They’d just finished lunch at a café in Orange County—Chuck Rees, his wife, Laurie, and her mother, Ann Marie Effert. Then Rees, 51, spotted smoke rising from a hill a few blocks away. “Let’s get up there!” he cried.
Keeping the dark plumes in sight, the trio drove through winding, unfamiliar streets and eventually came upon a white two-story house with black smoke billowing from the back.
Rees pulled his car alongside a couple standing on the curb in front of the house. “Anybody in there?” he asked them.
“I knocked, but nobody answered,” the man said. “We’ve called 911.”
Rees threw his car into park. “Chuck, don’t,” Laurie said, although she knew he wouldn’t listen. He’d once dropped the receiver of a pay phone in the middle of a conversation with her to chase a purse snatcher.
He pointed to the flames coursing up the back of the house. The woman looked at him, frightened.
“Laurie, I’ve got to,” he said, and jumped out of the car.
Rees ran up the driveway along the right side of the house, hoping to find the source of the fire and put it out with a garden hose. A locked gate blocked his way into the backyard. He considered climbing over it, but a large Labrador retriever mix appeared on the other side and bared its teeth at him. That means somebody lives here, Rees thought.
He sprinted to the front door and tried the handle; it was locked. He pounded on the door; no one answered. Then he moved along the left side of the house, past what looked like a small addition. He grabbed onto a chain-link fence and pulled it back far enough for him to squeeze through. When he scaled a six-foot-high cinder blockwall just inside the fence, another large Lab mix stood waiting for him; this one was wagging its tail.
As he scanned the back of the house for a hose, Rees noticed a small steel door in the addition. He banged on it with his fist. “Is anybody in there?” he shouted. “Your house is on fire!” No one answered. He banged on the door again.
Soon he heard a woman’s faint voice from the other side of the door. “Hello?” she said.
Read more AT THIS LINK.
Showing posts with label Inspirational. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inspirational. Show all posts
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Sunday, August 26, 2012
He Never Drove A Car
Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.
He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.
"In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."
At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: "Oh, bull----!" she said. "He hit a horse."
"Well," my father said, "there was that, too."
So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.
My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.
My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.
But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one." It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.
But, sure enough , my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.
It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.
Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.
So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.
For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.
Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.
(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)
He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.
If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."
After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."
If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"
"I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.
"No left turns," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.
As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."
"What?" I said again.
"No left turns," he said. "Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights."
"You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support "No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works." But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."
I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.
"Loses count?" I asked.
"Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again."
I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.
"No," he said " If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week."
My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.
She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.
They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)
He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.
One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.
A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer."
"You're probably right," I said.
"Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.
"Because you're 102 years old," I said.
"Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.
That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.
He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:
"I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet"
An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
"I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."
A short time later, he died.
I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.
I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life, Or because he quit taking left turns. "
Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about those who don't. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it."
Written By Michael Gartner, president of NBC News
He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.
"In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."
At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: "Oh, bull----!" she said. "He hit a horse."
"Well," my father said, "there was that, too."
So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.
My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.
My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.
But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one." It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.
But, sure enough , my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.
It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.
Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.
So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.
For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.
Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.
(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)
He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.
If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."
After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."
If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"
"I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.
"No left turns," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.
As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."
"What?" I said again.
"No left turns," he said. "Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights."
"You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support "No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works." But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."
I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.
"Loses count?" I asked.
"Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again."
I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.
"No," he said " If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week."
My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.
She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.
They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)
He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.
One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.
A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer."
"You're probably right," I said.
"Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.
"Because you're 102 years old," I said.
"Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.
That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.
He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:
"I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet"
An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
"I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."
A short time later, he died.
I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.
I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life, Or because he quit taking left turns. "
Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about those who don't. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it."
Written By Michael Gartner, president of NBC News
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The Actress and the Actor
.
My husband, Richard, never really talked a lot about his time in Viet Nam other than he had been shot by a sniper. However, he had a rather grainy, 8" x 10" black and white photo he had taken at a USO show of Ann-Margret with Bob Hope that was one of his treasures.
A few years ago Ann-Margret was doing a book signing at a local bookstore. Richard wanted to see if he could get her to sign the treasured photo so he arrived at the bookstore as soon as he could for the 7:30 pm signing.
When I got there after work, the line went all the way around the bookstore, circled the parking lot and disappeared behind a parking garage. Before her appearance, bookstore employees announced that she would sign only her book and no memorabilia would be permitted.
Richard was disappointed but wanted to show her the photo and let her know how much those shows meant to lonely GI's so far from home. Ann-Margret came out looking as beautiful as ever.
He presented the book for her signature and then took out the photo. When he did, there were many shouts from the employees that she would not sign it. Richard said,
"I understand. I just wanted her to see it." She took one look at the photo, tears welled up in her eyes and she said,
"This is one of my gentlemen from Viet Nam and I most certainly will sign his photo. I know what these men did for their country and I always have time for 'my gentlemen.'"
With that, she pulled Richard across the table and planted a big kiss on him. She then made quite a to-do about the bravery of the young men she met over the years, how much she admired them, and how much she appreciated them.
There weren't too many dry eyes among those close enough to hear. She then posed for pictures and acted as if he were the only one there.
Later at dinner, Richard was very quiet. When I asked if he'd like to talk about it, my big strong husband broke down in tears.
"That's the first time anyone ever thanked me for my time in the Army," he said.
That night was a turning point for him. He walked a little straighter and, for the first time in years, was proud to have been a Vet. I'll never forget Ann-Margret for her graciousness and how much that small act of kindness meant to my husband.
I now make it a point to say "Thank you" to every person I come across who served in our Armed Forces. Freedom does not come cheap and I am grateful for all those who have served their country.
~ Author Unknown ~
Editor's Note: Ann-Margret Olsson was born in 1941 and was part of Bob Hope's troupe in the 1960's in Viet Nam. According to Bruce Thompson, the webmaster of Ann-Margret.com which is her official website, this story is indeed true. http://www.snopes.com/military/margret.htm
My husband, Richard, never really talked a lot about his time in Viet Nam other than he had been shot by a sniper. However, he had a rather grainy, 8" x 10" black and white photo he had taken at a USO show of Ann-Margret with Bob Hope that was one of his treasures.
A few years ago Ann-Margret was doing a book signing at a local bookstore. Richard wanted to see if he could get her to sign the treasured photo so he arrived at the bookstore as soon as he could for the 7:30 pm signing.
When I got there after work, the line went all the way around the bookstore, circled the parking lot and disappeared behind a parking garage. Before her appearance, bookstore employees announced that she would sign only her book and no memorabilia would be permitted.
Richard was disappointed but wanted to show her the photo and let her know how much those shows meant to lonely GI's so far from home. Ann-Margret came out looking as beautiful as ever.
He presented the book for her signature and then took out the photo. When he did, there were many shouts from the employees that she would not sign it. Richard said,
"I understand. I just wanted her to see it." She took one look at the photo, tears welled up in her eyes and she said,
"This is one of my gentlemen from Viet Nam and I most certainly will sign his photo. I know what these men did for their country and I always have time for 'my gentlemen.'"
With that, she pulled Richard across the table and planted a big kiss on him. She then made quite a to-do about the bravery of the young men she met over the years, how much she admired them, and how much she appreciated them.
There weren't too many dry eyes among those close enough to hear. She then posed for pictures and acted as if he were the only one there.
Later at dinner, Richard was very quiet. When I asked if he'd like to talk about it, my big strong husband broke down in tears.
"That's the first time anyone ever thanked me for my time in the Army," he said.
That night was a turning point for him. He walked a little straighter and, for the first time in years, was proud to have been a Vet. I'll never forget Ann-Margret for her graciousness and how much that small act of kindness meant to my husband.
I now make it a point to say "Thank you" to every person I come across who served in our Armed Forces. Freedom does not come cheap and I am grateful for all those who have served their country.
~ Author Unknown ~
Editor's Note: Ann-Margret Olsson was born in 1941 and was part of Bob Hope's troupe in the 1960's in Viet Nam. According to Bruce Thompson, the webmaster of Ann-Margret.com which is her official website, this story is indeed true. http://www.snopes.com/military/margret.htm
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Rich At Last
.
Bernie was my father's idea of a rich man. When I was a kid in Minnesota, watermelon was a delicacy. Bernie, was a prosperous fruit-and-vegetable wholesaler, and one of my father's good friends. Every summer, when the first watermelons rolled in, Bernie would call. Dad and I would go to his warehouse and take up our positions.
We'd sit on the edge of the dock, feet dangling, and lean over, minimizing the volume of juice we were about to spill on ourselves. Bernie would take his machete, crack our first watermelon, hand us both a big piece and sit down next to us. We'd bury our faces in watermelon. We'd eat only the heart: the reddest, juiciest, firmest, most seed-free, most perfect part, and throw away the rest.
Bernie was rich. I always thought it was because he was such a successful businessman. Years later, I realized that what my father admired about Bernie's wealth was less its substance than its application. Bernie knew how to stop working, get together with friends and "eat only the heart of the watermelon."
After becoming a very successful businessman, what I learned from Bernie from my exposure to him as a young boy is that "being rich is a state of mind" and also includes making time often for those things in life that are the very sweetest to you. Some of us, no matter how much money we have, will never be free enough to "eat only the heart of the watermelon." Others are rich without ever being more than a paycheck ahead.
For many years, I forgot that lesson I'd learned as a kid on the loading dock. I was too busy making money and adding accomplishments to my resume.
Well, I've re-learned it.
Now I make sure I "eat the heart of the watermelon" often, in fact every day. I do those things that are sweetest for me, I do them first, and I do them often. Frequently, for me, some of these things are taking the time to enjoy the accomplishments of others and to take pleasure in the day. And I remember that it's ok to throw the rest away.
Finally, I am "rich.”
~ The Author is Harvey Mackay who is Chairman and CEO of Mackay Envelope Corporation, an $85 million company he founded at age 26. He is the author of the New York Times #1 bestsellers "Swim With The Sharks Without Being Eaten Alive" and "Beware the Naked Man Who Offers You His Shirt.” He is also a nationally syndicated columnist, popular business speaker, and a director of Robert Redford's Sundance Institute ~
Bernie was my father's idea of a rich man. When I was a kid in Minnesota, watermelon was a delicacy. Bernie, was a prosperous fruit-and-vegetable wholesaler, and one of my father's good friends. Every summer, when the first watermelons rolled in, Bernie would call. Dad and I would go to his warehouse and take up our positions.
We'd sit on the edge of the dock, feet dangling, and lean over, minimizing the volume of juice we were about to spill on ourselves. Bernie would take his machete, crack our first watermelon, hand us both a big piece and sit down next to us. We'd bury our faces in watermelon. We'd eat only the heart: the reddest, juiciest, firmest, most seed-free, most perfect part, and throw away the rest.
Bernie was rich. I always thought it was because he was such a successful businessman. Years later, I realized that what my father admired about Bernie's wealth was less its substance than its application. Bernie knew how to stop working, get together with friends and "eat only the heart of the watermelon."
After becoming a very successful businessman, what I learned from Bernie from my exposure to him as a young boy is that "being rich is a state of mind" and also includes making time often for those things in life that are the very sweetest to you. Some of us, no matter how much money we have, will never be free enough to "eat only the heart of the watermelon." Others are rich without ever being more than a paycheck ahead.
For many years, I forgot that lesson I'd learned as a kid on the loading dock. I was too busy making money and adding accomplishments to my resume.
Well, I've re-learned it.
Now I make sure I "eat the heart of the watermelon" often, in fact every day. I do those things that are sweetest for me, I do them first, and I do them often. Frequently, for me, some of these things are taking the time to enjoy the accomplishments of others and to take pleasure in the day. And I remember that it's ok to throw the rest away.
Finally, I am "rich.”
~ The Author is Harvey Mackay who is Chairman and CEO of Mackay Envelope Corporation, an $85 million company he founded at age 26. He is the author of the New York Times #1 bestsellers "Swim With The Sharks Without Being Eaten Alive" and "Beware the Naked Man Who Offers You His Shirt.” He is also a nationally syndicated columnist, popular business speaker, and a director of Robert Redford's Sundance Institute ~
Monday, July 16, 2012
An Unending Circle
One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.
Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe; he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was those chills which only fear can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.”
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.
As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid.
Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.
He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, “And think of me.”
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.
A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.
After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.
There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: “You don’t owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.”
Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard….
She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.”
There is an old saying “What goes around comes around.”
-Author Unknown-
Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe; he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was those chills which only fear can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.”
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.
As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid.
Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.
He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, “And think of me.”
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.
A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.
After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.
There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: “You don’t owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.”
Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard….
She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.”
There is an old saying “What goes around comes around.”
-Author Unknown-
Monday, July 2, 2012
In her Mother's Dress
"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.
"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.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
No Regrets
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for just one more.
If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time, I could spare an extra minute or two to stop and say "I love you,"
Instead of assuming you would know I do.
If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day,
Well, I'm sure you'll have so many more, I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight,
And we always get a second chance to make everything right.
There will always be another day to say our "I love you's,"
And certainly there's another chance to say our "Anything I can do's?"
But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget,
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike,
Today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.
So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss,
Too busy to grant someone what turned out to be their last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today, whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear.
Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "Thank you" or "It's okay".
And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today.
-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, June 6, 2012
I Bless You, My Son
A long time ago there was a young boy who lived with his father in a small cottage.
Almost every evening he would hear his father say the same thing:
"Poor me. I will die a sad old man because you are a fool and will never amount
to anything."
But the boy was not a fool, in fact, he showed a lot of wisdom for his age, and
he had a generous heart. One day, after helping a widow stack wood, he was about
to go home when she stopped him and placing her hand on his head spoke these words:
"You are a reflection of the face of God. The world is brighter for the joy you
have given me this day. I bless you my child."
The boy stepped back, amazed: "What was that?"
"Why, it was a blessing my child! Haven't you ever received a blessing before?"
Back at home he asked his father: "Papa? Why do you curse me? Why do you not bless
me?"
"What a ridiculous question. It is against my nature to bless. Poor me. I will die
a sad old man because you are a fool and will never amount to anything."
"Oh" said the boy, and he felt sorry for his father. That night he decided that
no matter how uncomfortable it felt, he would become the kind of person who blessed
others. And so he did.
The boy grew to be a man, left the forest and built a home for himself and had a
family of his own. He was still haunted by the curses of his father, but he had
decided to bless.
Almost every evening, he would call one of his children to himself, lay his hand
upon their head and speak these words:
"You are a reflection of the face of God. The world is brighter for the joy you
give me this day. I bless you my child."
One evening there was a knock on the front door and as he had raised his children
to do, they welcomed in a blind beggar, and gave him some food to eat. The young
man walked in and immediately recognized it was his own father, but he didn't reveal
his own identity.
He listened to the old man speak. And the old man talked about how he had lost his
eyesight, and how he'd been forced to beg in a world where life was hard. Just then
his son spoke up:
"Grandfather! You're welcome to stay here with us!"
"But I have no money to pay you." said the old man.
"Oh, we don't need any money; all we ask is that as long as you stay with us, you
speak only blessings. - What's the matter?"
"It...it's against my nature to bless!"
"Grandfather, I can tell by your hands that you have worked your whole life. So,
begging must be against your nature as well, but see, it has brought you here to
us!"
The old man couldn't argue this point, so he agreed to stay, but it was weeks before
he spoke a word - it was so against his nature to bless. When he finally did, you
could hardly hear him:
"What's that Grandfather?"
"I said, bless you for taking an old man in from the cold. I wish my son had turned
out like you, but he was a fool and..."
"Ah! Grandfather, only blessings!"
"Well, I wish my son had turned out like you! Bless you!"
This wasn't bad for a first blessing! And a week later he spoke another one and
it was a little smoother. Then he began to bless every day -- many times in a day.
You could say that blessing became... second nature to him.
The more he blessed, the more he smiled. The more he smiled the more his heart softened.
And the more his heart softened, the more joy he began to experience; a different
kind of joy than he had known before.
They lived happily for years until one winter the old man fell ill and was near
death. As his breathing grew labored, his son sat on the bedside and asked:
"Grandfather, is there anything I can get for you?"
"No one can bring me what I most need at this hour."
"Please Grandfather, anything! What would you like?"
"I should like to see my own son once more to give him my blessing. As he was growing,
I gave only curses. I told him it was against my nature to bless. And, as you can
see, I have learned to bless too late..." Then his son leaned closer and whispered:
"Papa! Papa it's me, your own son... I am here! It is not too late! God has seen
fit to bring us together these last years. It's not too late! I'm here... I'm here!"
And they embraced. A moment later the old man straightened up, stretched out a trembling
hand, laid it upon his son's head, and spoke these words:
"You are a reflection of the face of God. Though I cannot see you with my eyes,
I see you with my heart and the mercy you have shown me these past years is like
a brilliant light, dispelling all shadow as I pass from time into eternity. I will
die a happy old man, because I have learned to bless and so...my son... I... bless
you."
With these words, his hand fell back down to his chest and he died with this beautiful
smile on his face.
Just then the wind became very strong outside and he got up to close the shutter,
but then he heard an ancient voice:
"Eternity shines brighter for the joy you bring me this day. I bless you my child."
Then the wind died down and everything became peaceful in the countryside and in
the heart of the young man.
~ Author Unknown ~
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Flying With Chickens
Once, long ago, an Indian warrior found an eagle's egg on a mountaintop, and he put it in the nest of a barnyard hen. When the time came, the chicks hatched, and so did the little eagle, who had been kept warm in the same brood.
The tiny eagle grew along with the hatchlings. After some time it learned to cluck and cackle like chickens, to scratch the ground, to look for worms. And he would thrash his wings and fly a few feet into the air onto the lower branches of the bushes, just like all the other chickens.
Years passed and the eagle grew very old. One day he saw a magnificent bird above him in the cloudless sky. Up there in the bright blue, this bird glided with graceful majesty among the wind currents, with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings.
The old eagle was awestruck. It turned to the nearest chicken and asked, "Who's that?"
The chicken looked up and answered, "Oh, that's the golden eagle, the king of the birds. He belongs to the sky. We belong to the earth... we're chickens."
So, the eagle lived and died a chicken, for that's what he thought he was.
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
-- Mahatma Gandhi
Written by Anthony De Mello, SJ
The tiny eagle grew along with the hatchlings. After some time it learned to cluck and cackle like chickens, to scratch the ground, to look for worms. And he would thrash his wings and fly a few feet into the air onto the lower branches of the bushes, just like all the other chickens.
Years passed and the eagle grew very old. One day he saw a magnificent bird above him in the cloudless sky. Up there in the bright blue, this bird glided with graceful majesty among the wind currents, with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings.
The old eagle was awestruck. It turned to the nearest chicken and asked, "Who's that?"
The chicken looked up and answered, "Oh, that's the golden eagle, the king of the birds. He belongs to the sky. We belong to the earth... we're chickens."
So, the eagle lived and died a chicken, for that's what he thought he was.
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
-- Mahatma Gandhi
Written by Anthony De Mello, SJ
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Value and Invest In Yourself
If you are into financial investment, you’re probably very familiar with Mr. Warren Buffet (1951–present). He is the most successful investor in the world. His investment strategies are legendary and many people seek to learn after him.
Even more respectable, he pledged to give away 99% of his wealth (more than $30 billions at the time of the pledge in 2006) to non-profit foundations, mostly to Bill Gate’s Foundation.
Mr. Buffet often travels to universities to give speeches to educate and motivate students. Here is one of his speeches to teach us the value of our body, to invest in ourselves, in education for a great future.
Imagine that a Genie offers you any car in the world. The catch is that it is the only car you will ever own. What would you do?
You would read the manual ten times, change the oil twice as often as required, and you would take fastidious care so that that car remained the car of your dreams forever.
Think about what this tells you about your body.
You get only one mind and one body–the same ones you will have at 20, 40, 60, etc.
Take care of them and maximize their potential. It will be too late to take care of your body and mind (and car) later on. You can maintain them, but it is hard or impossible to undo big mistakes or negligence later on. You do not want to end up with a wreck on your hands.
Your main asset in life is yourself.
Treat yourself as a valuable asset. I often explain to students that I would be willing to pay today for a percentage of the future earnings of good students.
If you value yourself, and invest in yourself, you will be worth a great deal through out your lifetime, both to yourself and to your community.
Author: Warren Buffet
Even more respectable, he pledged to give away 99% of his wealth (more than $30 billions at the time of the pledge in 2006) to non-profit foundations, mostly to Bill Gate’s Foundation.
Mr. Buffet often travels to universities to give speeches to educate and motivate students. Here is one of his speeches to teach us the value of our body, to invest in ourselves, in education for a great future.
Imagine that a Genie offers you any car in the world. The catch is that it is the only car you will ever own. What would you do?
You would read the manual ten times, change the oil twice as often as required, and you would take fastidious care so that that car remained the car of your dreams forever.
Think about what this tells you about your body.
You get only one mind and one body–the same ones you will have at 20, 40, 60, etc.
Take care of them and maximize their potential. It will be too late to take care of your body and mind (and car) later on. You can maintain them, but it is hard or impossible to undo big mistakes or negligence later on. You do not want to end up with a wreck on your hands.
Your main asset in life is yourself.
Treat yourself as a valuable asset. I often explain to students that I would be willing to pay today for a percentage of the future earnings of good students.
If you value yourself, and invest in yourself, you will be worth a great deal through out your lifetime, both to yourself and to your community.
Author: Warren Buffet
Saturday, May 19, 2012
No Ears
“Can I see my baby?” the happy new mother asked.
When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.
Time proved that the baby’s hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.
When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother’s arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy: “A boy, a big boy… called me a freak.”
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. “But you might mingle with other young people,” his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy’s father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? “I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured,” the doctor decided.
Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by.
Then, “You are going to the hospital, Son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it’s a secret,” said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service.
“But I must know!” He urged his father, “Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him.”
“I do not believe you could,” said the father, “but the agreement was that you are not to know … not yet.”
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come … one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother’s casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother — had no outer ears.
“Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut,” he whispered gently, “and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?”
Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.
-Author Unknown-
When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.
Time proved that the baby’s hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.
When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother’s arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy: “A boy, a big boy… called me a freak.”
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. “But you might mingle with other young people,” his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy’s father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? “I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured,” the doctor decided.
Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by.
Then, “You are going to the hospital, Son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it’s a secret,” said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service.
“But I must know!” He urged his father, “Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him.”
“I do not believe you could,” said the father, “but the agreement was that you are not to know … not yet.”
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come … one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother’s casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother — had no outer ears.
“Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut,” he whispered gently, “and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?”
Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.
-Author Unknown-
Friday, May 11, 2012
Eighteen Ways to Inspire Others
Live by choice, not by chance. Make changes, not excuses. Be motivated, not manipulated. Work to excel, not compete. Listen to your own inner voice, not the jumbled opinions of everyone else.
This is the way to inspire people! This is how you can grow into the best version of YOU!
Here are a few more ideas to get you started with inspiring everyone around you:
Be authentic and true to yourself. – In this crazy world that’s trying to make you like everyone else, find the courage to keep being your awesome self. Embrace that individual inside you that has ideas, strengths and beauty like no one else. Be the person you know yourself to be – the best version of you – on your terms. Above all, be true to YOU, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it. No it won’t always be easy; because when it comes to living as a compassionate, non-judgmental human being, the only challenge greater than learning to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, is learning to walk a lifetime, comfortably in your own.
Stick with what you love. – Take part in something you believe in. This could be anything. Some people take an active role in their local city council, some find refuge in religious faith, some join social clubs supporting causes they believe in, and others find passion in their work. In each case the psychological outcome is the same. They engage themselves in something they strongly believe in. This engagement brings happiness and meaning into their lives. It’s hard not to be inspired by someone who’s passionate about what they’re doing.
PLEASE CLICK HERE TO READ THE REST OF THIS ENTRY.
This is the way to inspire people! This is how you can grow into the best version of YOU!
Here are a few more ideas to get you started with inspiring everyone around you:
Be authentic and true to yourself. – In this crazy world that’s trying to make you like everyone else, find the courage to keep being your awesome self. Embrace that individual inside you that has ideas, strengths and beauty like no one else. Be the person you know yourself to be – the best version of you – on your terms. Above all, be true to YOU, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it. No it won’t always be easy; because when it comes to living as a compassionate, non-judgmental human being, the only challenge greater than learning to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, is learning to walk a lifetime, comfortably in your own.
Stick with what you love. – Take part in something you believe in. This could be anything. Some people take an active role in their local city council, some find refuge in religious faith, some join social clubs supporting causes they believe in, and others find passion in their work. In each case the psychological outcome is the same. They engage themselves in something they strongly believe in. This engagement brings happiness and meaning into their lives. It’s hard not to be inspired by someone who’s passionate about what they’re doing.
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Monday, April 16, 2012
Laugh or Cry?
The Texas teacher was helping one of her kindergarten students put on his rain boots. He had asked her for help and she could see why. Even with her pulling and him pushing, the little boots still didn't want to go on.
Finally, when the second boot was on, she had worked up a sweat. She almost cried when the little boy said,
"Teacher, they're on the wrong feet."
She looked and sure enough, they were. It wasn't any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on, this time on the right feet. He then announced,
"These aren't my boots."
She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and say, "Why didn't you say so?" like she wanted to. And, once again she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off his little feet. No sooner did they got the boots off and he said,
"They're my brother's boots. My Mom made me wear 'em."
Now she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. But, she mustered up the grace and courage she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again. Helping him into his coat, she asked,
"Now, where are your mittens?" and he said,
"I stuffed 'em in the toes of my boots."
~ Author Unknown ~
Finally, when the second boot was on, she had worked up a sweat. She almost cried when the little boy said,
"Teacher, they're on the wrong feet."
She looked and sure enough, they were. It wasn't any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on, this time on the right feet. He then announced,
"These aren't my boots."
She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and say, "Why didn't you say so?" like she wanted to. And, once again she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off his little feet. No sooner did they got the boots off and he said,
"They're my brother's boots. My Mom made me wear 'em."
Now she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. But, she mustered up the grace and courage she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again. Helping him into his coat, she asked,
"Now, where are your mittens?" and he said,
"I stuffed 'em in the toes of my boots."
~ Author Unknown ~
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
The Girl in the Pink Dress
There was this little girl sitting by herself in the park. Everyone
passed by her and never stopped to see why she looked so sad. Dressed in
a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the
people go by. She never tried to speak. She never said a word. Many
people passed by her, but no one would stop.
The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the
little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very
spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her
eyes.
Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as
we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young
children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the
little girl's dress was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the
reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her.
As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my
intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back
more clearly. She was grotesquely shaped in a humped-over form.
I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat
down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello." The little girl
acted shocked, and stammered a "hi," after a long stare into my eyes. I
smiled and she shyly smiled back.
We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked
the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad
face said, "Because I'm different." I immediately said, "That you are!"
and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know."
"Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent."
She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said,
"Really?"
"Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all those
people walking by." She nodded her head yes, and smiled. With that she
opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then
she said "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I
was speechless -- sure I was seeing things.
She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job
here is done."
I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"
She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You are the only one that could see
me," and then she was gone. And with that, my life was changed
dramatically. So, when you think you're all you have, remember, your
angel is always watching over you.
-Author Unknown-
passed by her and never stopped to see why she looked so sad. Dressed in
a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the
people go by. She never tried to speak. She never said a word. Many
people passed by her, but no one would stop.
The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the
little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very
spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her
eyes.
Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as
we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young
children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the
little girl's dress was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the
reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her.
As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my
intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back
more clearly. She was grotesquely shaped in a humped-over form.
I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat
down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello." The little girl
acted shocked, and stammered a "hi," after a long stare into my eyes. I
smiled and she shyly smiled back.
We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked
the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad
face said, "Because I'm different." I immediately said, "That you are!"
and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know."
"Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent."
She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said,
"Really?"
"Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all those
people walking by." She nodded her head yes, and smiled. With that she
opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then
she said "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I
was speechless -- sure I was seeing things.
She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job
here is done."
I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"
She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You are the only one that could see
me," and then she was gone. And with that, my life was changed
dramatically. So, when you think you're all you have, remember, your
angel is always watching over you.
-Author Unknown-
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
A Fateful Meeting
A little boy wanted to meet God.
He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a six-pack of root beer and he started his journey.
When he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman.
She was sitting in the park just staring at some pigeons.
The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase.
He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie .
She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him. Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered her a root beer. Again, she smiled at him. The boy was delighted!
They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they never said a word. As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave,
but before he had gone more than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman, and gave her a hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.
When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time later,
his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you look so happy ?"
He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"
Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home.
Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face and asked, "Mother, what did you do today that made you so happy ?" She replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with God ."
However, before her son responded, she added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected." Too often we underestimate the power of a touch,! ! a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. Remember,
we don't know what God will look like. People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Embrace all equally!
-Author Unknown-
He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a six-pack of root beer and he started his journey.
When he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman.
She was sitting in the park just staring at some pigeons.
The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase.
He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie .
She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him. Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered her a root beer. Again, she smiled at him. The boy was delighted!
They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they never said a word. As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave,
but before he had gone more than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman, and gave her a hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.
When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time later,
his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you look so happy ?"
He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"
Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home.
Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face and asked, "Mother, what did you do today that made you so happy ?" She replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with God ."
However, before her son responded, she added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected." Too often we underestimate the power of a touch,! ! a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. Remember,
we don't know what God will look like. People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Embrace all equally!
-Author Unknown-
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Knowledge - Great and Small
Great knowledge is broad and encompassing
Small knowledge is detailed and meticulous
Great talk is powerful and forceful
Small talk is endless and argumentative
In their sleeping hours their spirits are restless
In their waking hours their bodies are agitated
When they deal with others they get entangled
The entire day they plot and scheme
Some speak deliberately
Some set traps with words
Some are secretive
Small fears make them apprehensive
Great fears make them panic
When they speak, their words are like arrows shot out
Seeking others' weak spots to cause damage
When they keep quiet, it is as if they have sworn an oath
Looking for opportunities to achieve victory
When they fail, it is like Autumn or Winter
We can say that they decline day after day
When they are trapped in this situation
They cannot return to their true nature
When they are obstructed as if bound
We can say that they wither and shrivel
The heart that is nearing death
Cannot regain life and vitality
Joy, anger, sadness, happiness
Worry, regret, change, horror
Impetuous, undisciplined, unruly, pretentious
Like sound coming out of holes,
Or fungus growing out of humidity
Day and night they clash before us
Yet they do not know the root cause
Enough! Enough!
Once they understand this,
Will they then comprehend the principle of life?
Without it, I cannot exist
Without me, there is no one to appreciate it
Therefore I am close to it
But I do not know what governs it
There must be a supreme ruler
But I cannot discern any trace of it
I can believe it exists from its actions
But I cannot see its shape
It has existence, but no physical form
--- Chuang Tzu ---
Small knowledge is detailed and meticulous
Great talk is powerful and forceful
Small talk is endless and argumentative
In their sleeping hours their spirits are restless
In their waking hours their bodies are agitated
When they deal with others they get entangled
The entire day they plot and scheme
Some speak deliberately
Some set traps with words
Some are secretive
Small fears make them apprehensive
Great fears make them panic
When they speak, their words are like arrows shot out
Seeking others' weak spots to cause damage
When they keep quiet, it is as if they have sworn an oath
Looking for opportunities to achieve victory
When they fail, it is like Autumn or Winter
We can say that they decline day after day
When they are trapped in this situation
They cannot return to their true nature
When they are obstructed as if bound
We can say that they wither and shrivel
The heart that is nearing death
Cannot regain life and vitality
Joy, anger, sadness, happiness
Worry, regret, change, horror
Impetuous, undisciplined, unruly, pretentious
Like sound coming out of holes,
Or fungus growing out of humidity
Day and night they clash before us
Yet they do not know the root cause
Enough! Enough!
Once they understand this,
Will they then comprehend the principle of life?
Without it, I cannot exist
Without me, there is no one to appreciate it
Therefore I am close to it
But I do not know what governs it
There must be a supreme ruler
But I cannot discern any trace of it
I can believe it exists from its actions
But I cannot see its shape
It has existence, but no physical form
--- Chuang Tzu ---
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Story of Pam
More than 24 years ago, Pam and her husband Bob were serving as missionaries to the Philippines and praying for a fifth child.
Pam contracted amoebic dysentery and went into a coma. She was treated with strong antibiotics before they discovered that she was pregnant. Doctors urged her to abort the baby for her own safety and told her that the medicines had caused irreversible damage to her baby.
She refused with her hope that her son would be born without the devastating disabilities the physicians predicted.
While pregnant, Pam nearly lost their baby four times but refused to consider abortion. She recalled making a pledge to God with her husband: If you will give us a son, we'll name him Timothy and we'll make him a preacher.
Pam ultimately spent the last two months of her pregnancy in bed and eventually gave birth to a healthy baby boy August 14, 1987. Pam's youngest son is indeed a preacher. He preaches in prisons, makes hospital visits, and serves with his father's ministry in the Philippines . He also plays football.
Pam's son is Tim Tebow.
In 2007 the University of Florida 's star quarterback became the first sophomore in history to win college football's highest award, the Heisman Trophy. His current role as quarterback of the Denver Broncos has provided an incredible platform for his witness.
Tim's notoriety and the family's inspiring story have given Pam numerous opportunities to speak on behalf of women's centers across the country. Pam Tebow believes that every little baby you save matters. I pray her tribe will increase!
~ Author Unknown ~
Pam contracted amoebic dysentery and went into a coma. She was treated with strong antibiotics before they discovered that she was pregnant. Doctors urged her to abort the baby for her own safety and told her that the medicines had caused irreversible damage to her baby.
She refused with her hope that her son would be born without the devastating disabilities the physicians predicted.
While pregnant, Pam nearly lost their baby four times but refused to consider abortion. She recalled making a pledge to God with her husband: If you will give us a son, we'll name him Timothy and we'll make him a preacher.
Pam ultimately spent the last two months of her pregnancy in bed and eventually gave birth to a healthy baby boy August 14, 1987. Pam's youngest son is indeed a preacher. He preaches in prisons, makes hospital visits, and serves with his father's ministry in the Philippines . He also plays football.
Pam's son is Tim Tebow.
In 2007 the University of Florida 's star quarterback became the first sophomore in history to win college football's highest award, the Heisman Trophy. His current role as quarterback of the Denver Broncos has provided an incredible platform for his witness.
Tim's notoriety and the family's inspiring story have given Pam numerous opportunities to speak on behalf of women's centers across the country. Pam Tebow believes that every little baby you save matters. I pray her tribe will increase!
~ Author Unknown ~
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Monkey Business
Once upon a time in a village, a man appeared and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for Rs10.
The villagers seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest and started catching them.
The man bought thousands at Rs.10 and as supply started to diminish, the villagers stopped their effort. He further announced that he would now buyat Rs.20. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again.
Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to their farms. The offer rate increased to Rs.25 and the supply of monkeys became so little that it was an effort to even see a monkey, let alone catch it!
The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at Rs50! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy onbehalf of him.
In the absence of the man, the assistant told thevillagers. Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected. I will sell them to you at Rs35 and when the man returns from the city, you can sell it tohim for Rs.50."
The villagers squeezed up with all their savings and bought all the monkeys.
Then they never saw the man nor his assistant, only monkeys everywhere!! !
Welcome to the "Stock" Market!!!!!
The villagers seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest and started catching them.
The man bought thousands at Rs.10 and as supply started to diminish, the villagers stopped their effort. He further announced that he would now buyat Rs.20. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again.
Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to their farms. The offer rate increased to Rs.25 and the supply of monkeys became so little that it was an effort to even see a monkey, let alone catch it!
The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at Rs50! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy onbehalf of him.
In the absence of the man, the assistant told thevillagers. Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected. I will sell them to you at Rs35 and when the man returns from the city, you can sell it tohim for Rs.50."
The villagers squeezed up with all their savings and bought all the monkeys.
Then they never saw the man nor his assistant, only monkeys everywhere!! !
Welcome to the "Stock" Market!!!!!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Ripples
A man was sitting by a lake. He was throwing small pebbles into it from time to time. A young boy happened to cross by. He was intrigued to see that after every few minutes or so, the man would toss a pebble into the lake.
The boy went up to the man and said, "Good pastime, this stone throwing, he?" "Hmmm," said the man. He seemed to be deep in thought and obviously did not wish to be disturbed.
Sometime later, the man said softly, "Look at the water, it is absolutely still."
The boy said, "Yeah, it is."
The man tossed a pebble into the water and continued, "Only till I toss a pebble into it now do you see the ripples?"
"Yeah," said the boy, "they spread further and further."
"And soon, the water is still again," offered the man.
The boy said, "Sure, it becomes quiet, after a while."
The man continued, "What if we want to stop the ripples? The root cause of the ripples is the stone. Let's take the stone out. Go ahead and look for it." The boy put his hand into the water and tried to take the stone out.
But he only succeeded in making more ripples. He was able to take the stone out, but the number of ripples that were made in the process were a lot more than before.
The wise man said, "It is not possible to stop the movement of the water once a pebble has been thrown into it. But if we can stop ourselves from throwing the pebble in the first place, the ripples can be avoided altogether! So too, it is with our minds. If a thought enters into it, it creates ripples. The only way to save the mind from getting disturbed is to block and ban the entry of every superfluous thought that could be a potential cause for disturbance. If a disturbance has entered into the mind, it will take its own time to die down. Too many conflicting thoughts just cause more and more disturbances. Once the disturbance has been caused it takes time to ebb out. Even trying to forcibly remove the thought may further increase the turmoil in the mind. Time surely is a great healer, but prevention is always better than cure."
Before you allow a thought or a piece of information to enter your mind, put it through the triple filter test of authenticity, goodness and value.
-Author Unknown-
The boy went up to the man and said, "Good pastime, this stone throwing, he?" "Hmmm," said the man. He seemed to be deep in thought and obviously did not wish to be disturbed.
Sometime later, the man said softly, "Look at the water, it is absolutely still."
The boy said, "Yeah, it is."
The man tossed a pebble into the water and continued, "Only till I toss a pebble into it now do you see the ripples?"
"Yeah," said the boy, "they spread further and further."
"And soon, the water is still again," offered the man.
The boy said, "Sure, it becomes quiet, after a while."
The man continued, "What if we want to stop the ripples? The root cause of the ripples is the stone. Let's take the stone out. Go ahead and look for it." The boy put his hand into the water and tried to take the stone out.
But he only succeeded in making more ripples. He was able to take the stone out, but the number of ripples that were made in the process were a lot more than before.
The wise man said, "It is not possible to stop the movement of the water once a pebble has been thrown into it. But if we can stop ourselves from throwing the pebble in the first place, the ripples can be avoided altogether! So too, it is with our minds. If a thought enters into it, it creates ripples. The only way to save the mind from getting disturbed is to block and ban the entry of every superfluous thought that could be a potential cause for disturbance. If a disturbance has entered into the mind, it will take its own time to die down. Too many conflicting thoughts just cause more and more disturbances. Once the disturbance has been caused it takes time to ebb out. Even trying to forcibly remove the thought may further increase the turmoil in the mind. Time surely is a great healer, but prevention is always better than cure."
Before you allow a thought or a piece of information to enter your mind, put it through the triple filter test of authenticity, goodness and value.
-Author Unknown-
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