Meaning of Life

It must seem sometimes that I am always speaking about attitude, but honestly there are so many stories that exemplify the importance of having the right attitude as we go through life. We cannot emphasise this enough to our young people. Hopefully as they mature, they will realise the truth of what they have been encouraged to adopt as they go through life. As Mr. Davis says to students "Your skills may get you a job, but your attitude could lose you that job."

Below is a great story -

A MILLION DOLLAR LESSON by Peter Parker

A cab driver taught me a million dollar lesson in customer satisfaction and expectation.

Motivational speakers charge thousands of dollars to impart his kind of training to corporate executives and staff. It cost me a $12 taxi ride.

I had flown into Dallas for the sole purpose of calling on a client. Time was of the essence and my plan included a quick turnaround trip from and back to the airport. A spotless cab pulled up.

The driver rused to open the passenger door for me and made sure I was comfortably seated before he closed the door. As he got in the driver's seat, he mentioned that the neatly folded Wall Street Journal next to me was for my use. He then showed me several tapes and asked me what type of music I would enjoy.

Well! I looked around for a "Candid Camera!", Wouldn't you?

I could not believe the service I was receiving!

I took the opportunity to say, "Obviously you take great pride in your work. You must have a story to tell".

"You bet," he replied, "I used to be in Corporate America. But I got tired of thinking my best would never be good enough. I decided to find my niche in life where I could feel proud of being the best I could be.

I knew I would never be a rocket scientist, but I love driving cars, being of service and feeling like I have done a full day's work and done it well. I evaluate my personal assets and...wham! I became a cab driver.

One thing I know for sure, to be good in my business I could simply just meet the expectations of my passengers. But, to be GREAT in my business, I have to EXCEED the customer's expectations! I like both the sound and the return of being "great" better than just getting by on "average""

Did I tip him bit time? You bet!

Corporate America's loss is the travelling folk's friend.

LESSONS:

* Go an extra mile when providing any service to others.

* There is no good or bad job. You can make any job good.

* Good service always brings good return.

ENCOURAGE A POSITIVE ATTITUDE!

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us.

My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us.

My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly.

So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!'

This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.'

He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment.

As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally.

Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.

The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day.

Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets,

so ... Love the people who treat you right.

Pray for the ones who don't.

Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!

Have a blessed, garbage-free day!

Lesson In Life:

As parents, we want to protect our children from the difficulties of life, but we also know that it is important they learn to cope with difficulties because life is not always easy. It is imperative for us to teach them how to cope with difficult situations.

A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee... You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see." "Carrots, eggs and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hardboiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee.

The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that! Each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"

Think of this:

Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hard and unbending? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When the hour is the darkest and trials are at their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet,
enough trials to make you strong,
enough sorrow to keep you human and
enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.
Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

If you are a coffee drinker, or tea for that matter, you will always be reminded of this story.

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 that chill 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 tyre, 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 tyre.

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 cches 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.'

Today I share with you this story, and I'm asking you to pass it on.

Let this light shine.

Charles Plumb, a US Navy Academy graduate, was a jet fighter pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile.

Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent the next six years in a Communist prison.

He survived that ordeal and now lectures about lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when he and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Nam from the carrier, Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"

"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.

"Oh, I was the one who packed your parachute," the man replied.

Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man smiled and said, "Yep, I guess it worked!"

Plumb assured him, "It sure did work -- if your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about the man who has packed his parachute. Plumb kept wondering what the man might have looked like in a Navy uniform.

"I wondered how many times I might have passed him on the Kitty Hawk. I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said good morning, how are you or anything, because you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."

Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now Plumb asks his audiences, "Who's packing your chute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day.

Plumb also points out that we all need many kinds of parachutes. We need mental, emotional and spiritual parachutes as well.

While a prisoner of war, Plumb called on all of these supports before reaching safety. His experience reminds us all to prepare ourselves to weather whatever storms lie ahead -- and to recognize and appreciate all of those people who pack our parachutes everyday, for they are the ones who truly deserve the credit for our survival.

I stopped to watch my little girl busy playing in her room. In one hand was a plastic phone; in the other a toy broom. I listened as she was speaking to her make believe little friend And I'll never forget the words she said, even though it was pretend.

She said, "Suzie's in the corner cuz she's not been very good. She didn't listen to a word I said or do the things she should." In the corner I saw her baby doll all dressed in lace and pink. It was obvious she'd been put there to sit alone and think.

My daughter continued her "conversation," as I sat down on the floor. She said, "I'm all fed up, I just don't know what to do with her anymore? She whines whenever I have to work and wants to play games, too. She never lets me do the things that I just have to do?

She tries to help me with the dishes, but her arms just cannot reach... And she doesn't know how to fold towels. I don't have the time to teach. I have a lot of work to do and a big house to keep clean. I don't have the time to sit and play -- don't you know what I mean?"

And that day I thought a lot about making some changes in my life; as I listened to her innocent words that cut me like a knife. I hadn't been paying enough attention to what I hold most dear. I'd been caught up in responsibilities that increased throughout the year.

But now my attitude has changed, because, in my heart, I realize... I've seen the world in a different light through my little darling's eyes. So, let the cobwebs have the corners and the dust bunnies rule the floor, I'm not going to worry about keeping up with them anymore.

I'm going to fill the house with memories of a child and her mother... For we are granted only one childhood, and we will never get another.

There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.

It was only a grain,
but it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings
Although they're so plain.

Now, did he berate
the harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?

Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?

'No,' he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it.

Now the years have rolled around,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny stew.

And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.

Now the tale has a moral,
for isn't it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?

What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.

Be understanding to your enemies.
Be loyal to your friends.

Be strong enough to face the world each day.
Be weak enough to know you cannot do everything alone.

Be generous to those who need your help.
Be frugal with that you need yourself.

Be wise enough to know that you do not know everything.
Be foolish enough to believe in miracles.

Be willing to share your joys.
Be willing to share the sorrows of others.

Be a leader when you see a path others have missed.
Be a follower when you are shrouded by the mists of uncertainty.

Be first to congratulate an opponent who succeeds.
Be last to criticize a colleague who fails.

Be sure where your next step will fall, so that you will not tumble.
Be sure of your final destination, in case you are going the wrong way.

Be loving to those who love you.
Be loving to those who do not love you; they may change.

Above all, be yourself.

Lord, are you trying to tell me something?
For...

Failure does not mean I'm a failure;
It does mean I have not yet succeeded.

Failure does not mean I have accomplished nothing;
It does mean I have learned something.

Failure does not mean I have been a fool;
It does mean I had enough faith to experiment.

Failure does not mean I have disgraced;
It does mean I have dared to try.

Failure does not mean I don't have it;
It does mean I have something to do in a different way.

Failure does not mean I am inferior;
It does mean I am not perfect.

Failure does not mean I have wasted my life;
It does mean that I have an excuse to start over.

Failure does not mean that I should give up;
It does mean that I should try harder.

Failure does not mean that I will never make it;
It does mean that I need more practice.

Failure does not mean that you have abandoned me;
It does mean that you must have a better idea.

This is a story about four people: Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry with that, because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody have done.

A man spoke with the Lord about heaven and hell. The Lord said to the man, "Come, I will show you hell."

They entered a room where a group of people sat around a huge pot of stew. Everyone was famished, desperate and starving. Each held a spoon that reached the pot, but each spoon had a handle so much longer than their own arm that it could not be used to get the stew into their own mouths. The suffering was terrible.

"Come, now I will show you heaven," the Lord said after a while. They entered another room, identical to the first -- the pot of stew, the group of people, the same long-handled spoons. But there everyone was happy and well-nourished. "I don't understand," said the man. "Why are they happy here when they were miserable in the other room and everything was the same?"

The Lord smiled, "Ah, it is simple," he said. "Here they have learned to feed each other."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starting over means "Victories Won";

Starting over means "A Race well run";

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

Don't just sit there...

START OVER.

Horror gripped the heart of the World War I soldier as he saw his lifelong friend fall in battle. Caught in a trench with continuous gunfire whizzing over his head, the soldier asked his lieutenant if he might go out into the "No Man's Land" between the trenches to bring his fallen comrade back.

"You can go," said the Lieutenant, "but I don't think it will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead and you may throw your own life away." The Lieutenant's words didn't matter, and the soldier went anyway.

Miraculously he managed to reach his friend, hoist him onto his shoulder, and bring him back to their company's trench. As the two of them tumbled in together to the bottom of the trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, then looked kindly at his friend. "I told you it wouldn't be worth it," he said. "Your friend is dead, and you are mortally wounded."

"It was worth it, though, sir," the soldier said.

"How do you mean, 'worth it?' " responded the Lieutenant. "Your friend is dead!"

"Yes sir," the private answered. "But it was worth it because when I got to him, he was still alive, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him say, 'Jim, I knew you'd come.' "

May you find serenity and tranquility in a world
You may not always understand.

May the pain you have known and conflict you have experienced
Give you the strength to walk through life
Facing each new situation with courage and optimism.

Always know that there are those whose love and understanding
Will always be there, even when you feel most alone.

May you discover enough goodness in others
To believe in a world of peace.

May a kind word, a reassuring touch, a warm smile be yours
Every day of your life,
And may you give these gifts as well as receive them.

Remember the sunshine when the storm seems unending.

Teach love to those who know hate,
And let that love embrace you as you go into the world.

May the teaching of those you admire become part of you,
So that you may call upon them.
Remember, those whose lives you have touched
And who have touched yours are always a part of you,
Even if the encounters were less than you would have wished.
It is the content of the encounter that is more important than it's
form.

May you not become too concerned with material matters,
But instead place immeasurable value on the goodness in your heart.

Find time in each day to see the beauty and love in the world around
you.

Realize that each person has limitless abilities,
But each of us is different in our own way.
What you may feel you lack in one regard
May be more than compensated for in another.
What you feel you lack in the present
May become one of your strengths in the future.

May you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility.
Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.

May you find enough inner strength to determine your own worth by
yourself,
And not be dependent on another's judgment of your accomplishments.

May you always feel loved.

The words destiny or fate are often used to answer questions that have no logical explanation.
-------------------------------------------

Patricia has never been married but has been engaged twice. Now in her thirties, she is once again engaged to be married.

One Sunday morning Patricia and her parents, along with her fiancé Bob and his mother Sylvia, who was visiting from out of state, all had brunch together. When the subject of the wedding came up in conversation, Patricia told Sylvia that she and Bob were planning on moving into her parent's duplex right after the wedding, which was only a few months away. Bob asked his mother if she would like to go see their new place, since it was now vacant and in the process of being fixed up. She said yes.

After brunch was over, the two families got into one car and drove to the duplex. The duplex is located in a very old neighborhood which still remains a nice area to live in.

During the ride over there, Sylvia seemed very excited. Finally they reached their destination and parked the car right in front of the couple's unit. Sylvia was dead silent. Then, oddly, just as they were all about to get out of the car, for some reason she started crying.

"What's wrong?" Bob asked his mother. Everybody was concerned and nobody had any idea what the problem was.

"This is the strangest happening," Sylvia answered. She then turned toward her son and told him and everybody else the most incredible story:

"Not the unit that you and Patricia are moving into, but the one next door.... Your father and I used to live there. It was your first home Bob after I delivered you in the hospital."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A young man applied for a job as a farmhand. When the farmer asked for his qualifications, he said, "I can sleep when the wind blows."

This puzzled the farmer. But he liked the young man, and hired him.

A few days later, the farmer and his wife were awakened in the night by a violent storm. They quickly began to check things out to see if all was secure. They found that the shutters of the farmhouse had been securely fastened. A good supply of logs had been set next to the fireplace.

The young man slept soundly.

The farmer and his wife then inspected their property. They found that the farm tools had been placed in the storage shed, safe from the elements.

The tractor had been moved into the garage. The barn was properly locked. Even the animals were calm. All was well.

The farmer then understood the meaning of the young man's words, "I can sleep when the wind blows."

Because the farmhand did his work loyally and faithfully when the skies were clear, he was prepared for the storm when it broke. So when the wind blew, he was not afraid. He could sleep in peace.

It started last spring when my daughter signed on to the Internet.

She found it very interesting and kept asking me to try it. At age 50, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to learn what I would need to know. I kept declining.

Finally, after some encouragement and being reminded of how I had learned to use the computer, I conceded. I have to admit that it was very enjoyable and I found so many interesting things.

Then one day, I typed in the word "adoption" on a search engine. I couldn't believe all the stuff that came up. I became obsessed.

You see, I had a baby boy when I was a teen and I relinquished him to adoption, but I never stopped thinking about him and praying for his well-being. I had been waiting since 1985 for my birth son to contact me. He turned 18 that year, and I, along with many other birth moms, was told during the time of relinquishment that when he became 18 he would be able to obtain information on me that would allow him to make contact.

That was wrong, but I didn't find that out until last year. I thought that since my birth son had never contacted me, he was not interested in knowing who I was or in obtaining any identifying information. Most people, that have never been connected to anyone that has been adopted or relinquished a baby, have no idea what the majority of them deal with.

The birth mother always wondering if her child had a good life, if he/she is safe, and the dreaded thoughts of whether he/she is dead. The adoptee, wondering why, wondering who they look like, what nationality they are, and what their medical history is. We are all denied the right to know any of this because of state laws.

By February 1999 I had been searching the internet for 10 months, contacting the Court and Children and Youth Services and not receiving one shred of hope. I was told that I had no rights and there was nothing I could do.

I was ready to give up.

I prayed and told God that I knew it was out of my control and if it were His will He would make it happen. I would wait on Him.

The following week, with God guiding me to read a post written on the Internet by a birth mom angel, I was given one last thing to do before I quit.

The post didn't have much in it; just that she had a baby girl at St. Vincent's in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and a social worker from CSS had reunited her with her daughter. Something inside me told me to write to this woman and ask her about her reunion with her daughter and how it came about. She wrote and told me to call a number in Philadelphia and ask a social worker if they could help.

Six weeks later I met my son, Joseph, for the second time in 32 years.

I was the beneficiary of a miracle. I could write so much more about the details, but they are not of importance. What is important is the fact that we should never stop believing in miracles.

May you all be blessed with your own miracle, and if there is anyone out there that is thinking about a lost loved one, don't ever give up that faith, hope or love.

Once upon a time, there was an island where all feelings lived Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others including Love.

One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all repaired their boats and left. Love was the only one who stayed.

Love wanted to persevere until the last possible moment. When the island was almost sinking, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel.

"Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked for help, "Sadness, let me Go with you." "Oh...Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!" Happiness passed by Love too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her!

Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come Love, I will take you." It was an elder. Love felt so blessed and overjoyed that he even forgot to ask the elder her name. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way.

Love realizing how much he owed the elder asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who helped me?" "It was Time," Knowledge answered. "Time?" asked.

Love. "But why did Time help me?"

Knowledge smiled with deep Wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how great Love is."

I sat next to the bed of old man, a friend for over twenty years, and held his hand. Hal was dying. We both knew these next few days would be his last.

We spent time reminiscing about his long and fruitful career as a church pastor. We talked about old friends. We chatted about his family. And I listened as he offered sage wisdom and advice to a member of a "younger generation."

At a lull in the conversation, Hal seemed to carefully consider what he was about to say next. Then he squeezed my hand, gazed intently into my eyes and whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, "Nothing is more important than relationships."

I knew that this was somehow near the pinnacle of his life's learnings. As he considered all of his experiences -- personal, professional, spiritual and family, this one ultimate observation surfaced above the rest: "Nothing is more important than relationships."

"Don't get overly caught up in your career," he seemed to be saying to me. "Likewise, don't use people in order to achieve your goals, then throw them away. No project, no program, no task should be pursued at the expense of friends and family. Remember," I heard him saying, as clearly as if he were speaking the words, "that in the end, only your relationships will truly matter. Tend them well."

Writer Og Mandino puts it this way: "Beginning today," he said, "treat everyone you meet as if he or she were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness, and understanding you can muster, and do so with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again."

At the end of a long life, my friend Hal would have agreed.

There's nothing to fear --- you're as good as the best,
As strong as the mightiest, too.
You can win in every battle or test;
For there's no one just like you.
There's only one you in the world today;
So nobody else, you see,
Can do your work in as fine a way:
You're the only you there'll be !

So face the world, and all life is yours
To conquer and love and live:
And you'll find the happiness that endures
In just the measure you give;
There's nothing too good for you to possess,
Nor heights where you cannot go:
Your power is more than belief or guess ---
It is something you have to know.

There is nothing to fear --- you can and you will.
For you are the invincible you.
Set your foot on the highest hill ---
There's nothing you cannot do.

A parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer's well. The farmer heard the mule 'braying' - or - whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together and told them what had happened...and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery.

Initially, the old mule was hysterical! But as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back...a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back...HE SHOULD SHAKE IT OFF AND STEP UP! This he did, blow after blow.

"Shake it off and step up...shake it off and step up...shake it off and step up!" he repeated to encourage himself. No matter how painful the blows, or distressing the situation seemed the old mule fought "panic" and just kept right on SHAKING IT OFF AND STEPPING UP!

You're right! It wasn't long before the old mule, battered and exhausted, STEPPED TRIUMPHANTLY OVER THE WALL OF THAT WELL! What seemed like it would bury him, actually blessed him...all because of the manner in which he handled his adversity.

THAT'S LIFE! If we face our problems and respond to them positively, and refuse to give in to panic, bitterness, or self-pity...THE ADVERSITIES THAT COME ALONG TO BURY US USUALLY HAVE WITHIN THEM THE POTENTIAL TO BENEFIT AND BLESS US! Remember that FORGIVENESS--FAITH--PRAYER-- PRAISE and HOPE...all are excellent ways to "SHAKE IT OFF AND STEP UP" out of the wells in which we find ourselves!

The baby is teething-the children are fighting. 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 yourselves something to do...and don't slam the door!"...and they won't.

You'll straighten up their rooms neat and tidy...bumper stickers discarded...spreads tucked and smooth ... toys displayed on the shelves...hangars in the closet...animals caged, and you'll say outloud: "Now I want it to stay that way!" and it will...You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in it and you'll say, "Now there's a meal for a company." and you'll eat it alone.

You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around, no pantomimes, no demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?"...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, knotted shoestrings, or tight moots.

Imagine, a lipstick with a point, no babysitter for New Year's Eve, washing clothes only once a week, no P.T.A. meetings, carpools, blaring radios, Christmas presents out of toothpicks and paste. No more "Wet Oatmeal Kisses". No more toothfairy giggles in the dark, or knees to heal.

Only a voice crying..."Why don't you grow up?"... and the silence echoing ......."I did."

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. In a specific point of the journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one, who got slapped, was hurt, but without anything to say, he wrote in the sand: "TODAY, MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE".

They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who got slapped and hurt started drowning, and the other friend saved him. When he recovered from the fright, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE".

The friend who saved and slapped his best friend, asked him, "Why, after I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now you write on a stone?"

The other friend, smiling, replied: "When a friend hurts us, we should write it down in the sand, where the winds of forgiveness get in charge of erasing it away, and when something great happens, we should engrave it in the stone of the memory of the heart, where no wind can erase it"

Learn to write in the sand.

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. "Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

"Information"

"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me." I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just he day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called "Information Please" and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."

"Information," said the now familiar voice.

"How do you spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information, Please." Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information."

I hadn't planned this but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed. "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time."

"I wonder", she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered "Information."

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" She said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, she said. Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?"

"Yes."

"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.

Let me read it to you." The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully up the steps. She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, walked down the aisle and found the seat he'd told her was empty. Then she settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against her leg.

It had been a year since Susan, thirty-four, became blind. Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity. Once a fiercely independent woman, Susan now felt condemned by this terrible twist of fate to become a powerless, helpless burden on everyone around her. "How could this have happened to me?" she would plead, her heart knotted with anger.

But no matter how much she cried or ranted or prayed, she knew the painful truth her sight was never going to return. A cloud of depression hung over Susan's once optimistic spirit. Just getting through each day was an exercise in frustration and exhaustion. And all she had to cling to was her husband Mark.

Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan with all of his heart. When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again. Mark's military background had trained him well to deal with sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the most difficult battle he would ever face.

Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there? She used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city.

At first, this comforted Susan and fulfilled Mark's need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task. Soon, however, Mark realized that this arrangement wasn't working - it was hectic, and costly. Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again, he admitted to himself. But just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe. She was still so fragile, so angry. How would she react?

Just as Mark predicted, Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again. "I'm blind!" she responded bitterly. "How am I supposed to know where I'm going? I feel like you're abandoning me."

Mark's heart broke to hear these words, but he knew what had to be done. He promised Susan that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang of it. And that is exactly what happened.

For two solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from work each day. He taught her how to rely on her other senses, specifically her hearing, to determine where she was and how to adapt to her new environment. He helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, and save her a seat. He made her laugh, even on those not-so-good days when she would trip exiting the bus, or drop her briefcase.

Each morning they made the journey together, and Mark would take a cab back to his office. Although this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one, Mark knew it was only a matter of time before Susan would be able to ride the bus on her own. He believed in her, in the Susan he used to know before she'd lost her sight, who wasn't afraid of any challenge and who would never, ever quit.

Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her arms around Mark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend.

Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience, his love. She said good-bye, and for the first time, they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... Each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. She was doing it! She was going to work all by herself!

On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, the driver said, "Boy, I sure envy you." Susan wasn't sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. After all, who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to find the courage to live for the past year?

Curious, she asked the driver, "Why do you say that you envy me?" The driver responded, "It must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are." Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, and asked again, "What do you mean?"

The driver answered, "You know, every morning for the past week, a fine looking gentleman in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you until you enter your office building. Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady."

Tears of happiness poured down Susan's cheeks. For although she couldn't physically see him, she had always felt Mark's presence. She was lucky, so lucky, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn't need to see to believe - the gift of love that can bring light where there had been darkness.

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

3. Follow the three R's: - Respect for self - Respect for others and -Responsibility for all your actions.

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.

6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

7. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

8. Spend some time alone every day.

9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.

10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.

12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.

13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.

14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.

15. Be gentle with the earth.

16. Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.

17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

20. Find something positive in this message and to pass it on to all your friends!

Two men were traveling together, when a Bear suddenly met them on their path. One of them climbed up quickly into a tree and concealed himself in the branches. The other, seeing that he must be attacked, fell flat on the ground, and when the Bear came up and felt him with his snout, and smelt him all over, he held his breath, and feigned the appearance of death as much as he could.

The Bear soon left him, for it is said he will not touch a dead body. When he was quite gone, the other Traveler descended from the tree, and jocularly inquired of his friend what it was the Bear had whispered in his ear. "He gave me this advice," his companion replied. "Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the approach of danger."

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy.

The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then The labor pains come. Every five minutes ... every minute. But Complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital,Knoxville, Tennessee.

The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby - now they plan a funeral.

Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says. Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive. She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed. The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glaressteel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!" Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings:

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray --- "

Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady.

Keep on singing, Michael. "You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away---" The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.

Keep on singing, Michael. "The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her.

Keep on singing, Michael. Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't, take my sunshine away."

Funeral plans are scrapped. The next, day-the very next day-the little girl is well enough to go home!

Woman's Day magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love!

NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE.

A Muleteer set forth on a journey, driving before him an Ass and a Mule, both well laden. The Ass, as long as he traveled along the plain, carried his load with ease, but when he began to ascend the steep path of the mountain, felt his load to be more than he could bear. He entreated his companion to relieve him of a small portion, that he might carry home the rest; but the Mule paid no attention to the request. The Ass shortly afterwards fell down dead under his burden.

Not knowing what else to do in so wild a region, the Muleteer placed upon the Mule the load carried by the Ass in addition to his own, and at the top of all placed the hide of the Ass, after he had skinned him.

The Mule, groaning beneath his heavy burden, said to himself: "I am treated according to my deserts. If I had only been willing to assist the Ass a little in his need, I should not now be bearing, together with his burden, himself as well."

Two frogs fell into a deep cream bowl. One was an optimistic soul.
But the other took the gloomy view.
"We'll drown," he lamented without much ado,
and with a last despairing cry,
he flung up his legs and said "Goodbye."

Quote the other frog with a steadfast grin,
"I can't get out but I won't give in,
I'll just swim around till my strength is spent,
then I'll die the more content."
Bravely he swam to work his scheme,
and his struggles began to churn the cream.

The more he swam, his legs a flutter,
the more the cream turned into butter.
On top of the butter at last he stopped,
and out of the bowl he gaily hopped.

What is the moral? It's easily found...
If you can't hop out, keep swimming around!

The Creightons were very proud of their son, Frank. When he went to college, naturally they missed him; but he wrote and they looked forward to his letters and saw him on weekends. Then Frank was drafted into the army.

After he had been in the army about five months, he received his call to go to Vietnam. Of course, the parents' anxiety for his first letter was greater than ever before. And ever week they heard from him and were thankful for his well-being. Then one week went by without a letter ~ two weeks ~ and finally three. At the end of the third week a telegram came, saying, "We regret to inform you that you son has been missing for three weeks and is presumed to have been killed inaction while fighting for his country."

The parents were shocked and grieved. They tried to accept the situation and go on living, but it was tragically lonesome without Frank.

About three weeks later, however, the phone rang. When Mrs. Creighton answered it, a voice on the other end said, "Mother, it's Frank. they found me, and I'm going to be all right. I'm in the United States and I'm coming home soon."

Mrs. Creighton was overjoyed, with tears running down her cheeks she sobbed, "Oh, that's wonderful! That's just wonderful, Frank."

There was silence for a moment, and then Frank said, "Mother I want to ask you something that is important to me. While I've been here, I've met a lot of wonderful people and I've really become close friends with some. There is one fellow I would like to bring home with me to meet you and Dad. And I would like to know if it would be all right if he could stay and live with us, because he has no place to go."

His mother assured him it would be all right.

Then Frank said, "You see, he wasn't' as lucky as some; he was injured in battle. He was hit by a blast and his face is all disfigured. He lost his leg, and his right hand is missing. So you see, he feels uneasy about how others will accept him."

Frank's mother stopped to think a minute. She began to wonder how things would work out, and what people in town would think of someone like that. She said, "Sure Frank, you bring him home~ for a visit, that is. We would love to meet him and have him stay for a while; but about him staying with us permanently, well, we'll have to think about that." There was silence for a minute, and then Frank said, "Okay, Mother," and hung up.

A week went by without any word from Frank, and then a telegram arrived ~ "We regret to inform you that your son has taken his life. We would like you to come and identify the body."

Their wonderful son was gone. The horror stricken parents could only ask themselves, "Why had he done this?" When they walked into the room to identify the body of their son, they found a young man with a disfigured face, one leg missing, and his right hand gone.

There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and was given 3 months to live. As she began getting her things 'in order', she called her pastor and asked for him to come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she wanted read, and what dress she wanted to be buried in. She also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible in her left hand. Everything was in order and as the pastor was preparing to leave, the woman suddenly remembered one final request that was very important to her. "Please Pastor, just one more thing," she said excitedly. "Sure, what is it?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important to me," the woman continued ... "I want to be buried holding a fork in my right hand." The pastor gazed at the woman, at a loss for words.

"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. The pastor replied "Well to be quite honest, I am puzzled by the request".

The woman explained. "You see, Pastor, in all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I remember that when the dishes were being cleared after the main course, someone would inevitably lean over to me and say, 'Keep your fork' ... it was my favorite part of the meal because I knew that something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep dish apple pie. Something wonderful to end the meal!"

The pastor listened intently and a smile came upon his face. The woman continued, "So, I just want people to see me there with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder ... 'What's with the fork'... then I want you to tell them: "Keep your Fork ... the best is yet to come".

The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman good-bye. He knew that this would be one of the last times that he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of Heaven than he did.

She knew and trusted that the best was yet to come. At the funeral, every one that walked by the woman's casket saw her wearing a beautiful dress with her favorite Bible held in her left hand and a fork held in her right hand.

Over and over the pastor heard people ask the question, "Why is she holding a fork?" and his smile began to get larger and brighter each time. During his message, the pastor told the people about the conversation that he had with the woman shortly before she died. He explained the fork and what it symbolized to her. The Pastor told everyone how he could not stop thinking about the fork and how he hoped that they would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

So the next time you reach for your fork, let it remind you, oh so gently, that the best is yet to come ........

Brenda was a young woman who was invited to go rock climbing. Although she was scared to death, she went with her group to a tremendous granite cliff.

In spite of her fear, she put on the gear, took a hold on the rope, and started up the face of that rock. Well, she got to a ledge where she could take a breather. As she was hanging on there, the safety rope snapped against Brenda's eye and knocked out her contact lens. Well, here she is on a rock ledge, with hundreds of feet below her and hundreds of feet above her. Of course, she looked and looked and looked, hoping it had landed on the ledge, but it just wasn't there. Here she was, far from home, her sight now blurry. She was desperate and began to get upset, so she prayed to the Lord to help her to find it.

When she got to the top, a friend examined her eye and her clothing for the lens, but there was no contact lens to be found. She sat down, despondent, with the rest of the party, waiting for the rest of them to make it up the face of the cliff. She looked out across range after range of mountains, thinking of that Bible verse that says, "The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth." She thought, "Lord, You can see all these mountains. You know every stone and leaf, and You know exactly where my contact lens is. Please help me."

Finally, they walked down the trail to the bottom. At the bottom there was a new party of climbers just starting up the face of the cliff. One of them shouted out, "Hey, you guys! Anybody lost a contact lens?" Well, that would be startling enough, but you know why the climber saw it? An ant was moving slowly across the face of the rock, carrying it.

Brenda told me that her father is a cartoonist. When he told him the incredible story of the ant, the prayer, and the contact lens, he drew a picture of an ant lugging that contact lens with the words, "Lord, I don't know why You want me to carry this thing. I can't eat it, and it's awfully heavy. But if this is what You want me to do, I'll carry it for You."

I think it would probably do some of us good to occasionally say, "God, I don't know why you want me to carry this load. I can see no good in it and it's awfully heavy. But if you want me to carry it, I will." God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called.

When Christ was on earth, the dogwood grew
To a towering size with a lovely hue.
Its branches were strong and interwoven
And for Christ's cross its timbers were chosen.

Being distressed at the use of the wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:

"Not ever again shall the dogwood grow
To be large enough for a tree, and so
Slender and twisted it shall always be
With cross-shaped blossoms for all to see.

The petals shall have bloodstains marked brown
And in the blossom's center a thorny crown.
All who see it will think of me,
Nailed to a cross from a dogwood tree.
Protected and cherished this tree shall be
A reflection to all of my agony."

Customer Service (CS) Rep. : "Yes, Ma'am, how may I help you today?"

Customer: "Well, after much consideration, I've decided to install LOVE. Can you guide me through the process?"

CS Rep. : "Yes, I can help you. Are you ready to proceed?"

Customer: "Well, I'm not very technical, but I think I'm ready to install now. What do I do first?"

CS Rep. : "The first step is to open your HEART. Have you located your HEART ma'am?"

Customer: "Yes I have, but there are several other programs running right now. Is it okay to install while they are running?"

CS Rep. : "What programs are running ma'am?"

Customer: "Let's see, I have PAST-HURT.EXE, LOW ESTEEM.EXE, GRUDGE.EXE, and RESENTMENT.COM running right now."

CS Rep. : "No problem. LOVE will gradually erase PAST-HURT.EXE from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory, but it will no longer disrupt other programs. LOVE will eventually overwrite LOW-ESTEEM.EXE with a module of its own called HIGH-ESTEEM.EXE. However, you have to completely turn off GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM. Those programs prevent LOVE from being properly installed. Can you turn those off ma'am?"

Customer: "I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how?"

CS Rep. : "My pleasure. Go to your Start menu and invoke FORGIVENESS.EXE. Do this as many times as necessary until GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM have been completely erased."

Customer: "Okay, done. LOVE has started installing itself automatically. Is that normal?"

Cs Rep. : "Yes. You should receive a message that says it will reinstall for the life of your HEART. Do you see that message?"

Customer: "Yes I do. Is it completely installed?"

Cs Rep. : "Yes, but remember that you have only the base program. You need to begin connecting to other HEARTS in order to get the upgrades."

Customer: "Oops. I have an error message already. What should I do?"

Cs Rep. : "What does the message say?"

Customer: "It says "ERROR 412 - PROGRAM NOT RUN ON INTERNAL COMPONENTS. What does that mean?"

Cs Rep. : "Don't worry ma'am, that's a common problem. It means that the LOVE program is set up to run on external HEARTS but has not yet been run on your HEART. It is one of those complicated programming things, but in nontechnical terms it means you have to "LOVE" your own machine before it can "LOVE" others."

Customer: "So what should I do?"

Cs Rep. : "Can you pull down the directory called"SELFACCEPTANCE"?"

Customer: "Yes, I have it."

Cs Rep. : " Excellent. You're getting good at this."

Customer: "Thank you."

Cs Rep. : "You're welcome. Click on the following files and then copy them to the "MYHEART" directory: FORGIVE-SELF.DOC, REALIZE-WORTH.TXT, and ACKNOWLEDGE-LIMITATIONS.DOC. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching any faulty programming. Also, you need to delete VERBOSE-SELF-CRITIC.EXE from all directories, and then empty your recycle bin afterwards to make sure it is completely and permanently gone erased."

Customer: "Got it. Hey! My HEART is filling up with new files. SMILE.MPG is playing on my monitor right now and it shows that PEACE.EXE, and CONTENTMENT.COM are copying themselves all over my HEART. Is this normal?"

Cs Rep. : "Sometimes. For others it takes a while, but eventually everything gets downloaded at the proper time. So, LOVE is installed and running. You should be able to handle it from here. One more thing before I go."

Customer: "Yes?"

Cs Rep. : "LOVE is freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everybody you meet. They will share it with other people and then return some similarly sacred modules back to you."

Customer: "I will. Thanks for your help. By the way, what's your name?"

Cs Rep. : " You may call me the Divine Cardiologist, also known as The Great Physician, but most call me God. Many people feel all they need is an annual checkup to stay heart-healthy, but the Manufacturer suggests a schedule of daily maintenance for maximum efficiency. Put another way, keep in touch . . ."

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family.

He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.
The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end his career.

When the carpenter finished his work and the builder came to inspect the house, the contractor handed the front-door key to the carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you."

What a shock! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. Now he had to live in the home he had built none too well.

So it is with us. We build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with a shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now living in the house we have built. If we had realized that we would have done it differently.

Think of yourself as the carpenter. Think about your house. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build wisely. It is the only life you will ever build. Even if you live it for only one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with dignity. The plaque on the wall says, "Life is a do-it-yourself project." Your life tomorrow will be the result of your attitudes and the choices you make today.

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 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, so 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, And 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 and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one 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.

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry.

Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep.

But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night. I was responding to a call from a small brick four-plex in a quiet part of town.

I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened.

A small woman in her 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knick- knacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said, "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free
I'm following the path God laid for me
I took his hand when I heard Him call
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to work or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way.
I found that place at the close of the day.

If my parting has left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss.
Ah yes, these things I too, will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow.
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much.
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all to brief;
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me
God wanted me now, He set me free.

Special Note:
We have found that more than one person claims to be the author.
-- Shannon Lee Moseley
-- Linda Jo Jackson
-- Angel Magoo has been attached it. That "proof" came off of a memorial service bulletin for Sgt S W Moline USMC
-- "Kelly K" is attached to the poem.
-- It has even been titled "The Final Flight."
-- Besides the poem is used in countless memorials for hundreds or more people without any recognition to the author.
The author is very unclear. We are ready to recognize to true author of this poem, but at this time we believe it remains a mystery.
Of course we are not talking of the song written by Pete Townshend and performed by The Who on the album Tommy.
Or the song "I'm Free" sung by the Rolling Stones and written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

A man found a cocoon for a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared,
he sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to
force its body through the little hole.

Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had
gotten as far as it could and could go no farther. Then the man decided
to help the butterfly.

He took a pair of scissors and snipped the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily.

Something was strange. The butterfly had a swollen body and shriveled
wings. The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected at
any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the
body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened. In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life
crawling around with a swollen body and deformed wings. It was never
able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand, was that the
restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get
hrough the small opening of the cocoon are God's way of forcing fluid
rom the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready
for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life.

If God allowed us to go through all our life without any obstacles, that
would cripple us. We would not be as strong as what we could have been.

Not only that, we could never fly.

God looked around His garden
And He found an empty place.
He then looked down upon
This earth and saw your tired face.
He put His arms around you
And lifted you to rest.
God's garden must be beautiful,
He always takes the best.
He knew that you were in pain.
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
So He closed your weary eyelids
And whispered, "Peace Be Thine."
He then took you up to Heaven with
Hands gentle and so kind.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you did not go alone.
For part of us went with you
The day God called you Home.

A couple, who we shall call John and Mary, had a nice home and two lovely children, a boy and a girl. John had a good job and had just been asked to go on a business trip to another city and would be gone for several days. It was decided that Mary needed an outing and would go along too. They hired a reliable woman to care for the children and made the trip, returning home a little earlier than they had planned.

As they drove into their hometown feeling glad to be back, they noticed smoke, and they went off their usual route to see what it was. They found a home in flames. Mary said, "Oh well it isn't our fire, let's go home."

But John drove closer and exclaimed, "That home belongs to Fred Jones who works at the plant. He wouldn't be off work yet, maybe there is something we could do." "It has nothing to do with us." Protested Mary. "You have your good clothes on lets not get any closer."

But John drove up and stopped and they were both horror stricken to see the whole house in flames. A woman on the lawn was in hysterics screaming, "The children! Get the children!" John grabbed her by the shoulder saying, "Get a hold of yourself and tell us where the children are!" "In the basement," sobbed the woman, "down the hall and to the left."

In spite of Mary's protests John grabbed the water hose and soaked his clothes, put his wet handkerchief on his head and bolted for the basement which was full of smoke and scorching hot. He found the door and grabbed two children, holding one under each arm like the football player he was. As he left he could hear some more whimpering. He delivered the two badly frightened and nearly suffocated children into waiting arms and filled his lungs with fresh air and started back asking how many more children were down there. They told him two more and Mary grabbed his arm and screamed, "John! Don't go back! It's suicide! That house will cave in any second!"

But he shook her off and went back by feeling his way down the smoke filled hallway and into the room. It seemed an eternity before he found both children and started back. They were all three coughing and he stooped low to get what available air he could. As he stumbled up the endless steps the thought went through his mind that there was something strangely familiar about the little bodies clinging to him, and at last when they came out into the sunlight and fresh air, he found that he had just rescued his own children.

The baby-sitter had left them at this home while she did some shopping.

Whatever our hands touch -
We leave fingerprints!
On walls, on furniture
On doorknobs, dishes, books.
There's no escape.
As we touch we leave our identity.

Wherever I go today
Help me leave heartprints!
Heartprints of compassion
Of understanding and love.

Heartprints of kindness
And genuine concern.
May my heart touch a lonely neighbor
Or a runaway daughter
Or an anxious mother
Or perhaps an aged grandfather.

Send me out today
To leave heartprints.
And if someone should say,
'I felt your touch,'
May they also feel the love
That is deep inside my heart.

Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher. One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students."

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here." Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy. From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris' face burned red. She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically-all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here." A small girl in the first row waved her arm. "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out. The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that's new life, too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine." Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty. Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty." He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."

Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?" "Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the schoolyard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away.

Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket....... all of them empty.

Once there was an emperor in the Far East who was growing old and knew it was coming time to choose his successor. Instead of choosing one of his assistants or one of his own children, he decided to do something different.

He called all the young people in the kingdom together one day. He said, "It has come time for me to step down and to choose the next emperor. I have decided to choose one of you." The kids were shocked! But the emperor continued. "I am going to give each one of you a seed today. One seed. It is a very special seed. I want you to go home, plant the seed, water it and come back here one year from today with what you have grown from this one seed. I will then judge the plants that you bring to me, and the one I choose will be the next emperor of the kingdom!"

There was one boy named Ling who was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed. He went home and excitedly told his mother the whole story. She helped him get a pot and some planting soil, and he planted the seed and watered it carefully. Every day he would water it and watch to see if it had grown.

After about three weeks, some of the other youths began to talk about their seeds and the plants that were beginning to grow. Ling kept going home and checking his seed, but nothing ever grew. Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks went by. Still nothing.

By now others were talking about their plants but Ling didn't have a plant, and he felt like a failure. Six months went by, still nothing in Ling's pot. He just knew he had killed his seed. Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had nothing. Ling didn't say anything to his friends, however. He just kept waiting for his seed to grow.

A year finally went by and all the youths of the kingdom brought their plants to the emperor for inspection. Ling told his mother that he wasn't going to take an empty pot. But she encouraged him to go, and to take his pot, and to be honest about what happened. Ling felt sick to his stomach, but he knew his mother was right. He took his empty pot to the palace.

When Ling arrived, he was amazed at the variety of plants grown by all the other youths. They were beautiful, in all shapes and sizes. Ling put his empty pot on the floor and many of the other kinds laughed at him. A few felt sorry for him and just said, "Hey nice try."

When the emperor arrived, he surveyed the room and greeted the young people. Ling just tried to hide in the back. "My, what great plants, trees and flowers you have grown," said the emperor. "Today, one of you will be appointed the next emperor!"

All of a sudden, the emperor spotted Ling at the back of the room with his empty pot. He ordered his guards to bring him to the front. Ling was terrified. "The emperor knows I'm a failure! Maybe he will have me killed!"

When Ling got to the front, the Emperor asked his name. "My name is Ling," he replied. All the kids were laughing and making fun of him. The emperor asked everyone to quiet down. He looked at Ling, and then announced to the crowd, "Behold your new emperor! His name is Ling!" Ling couldn't believe it. Ling couldn't even grow his seed. How could he be the new emperor?

Then the emperor said, "One year ago today, I gave everyone here a seed. I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it, and bring it back to me today. But I gave you all boiled seeds which would not grow. All of you, except Ling, have brought me trees and plants and flowers. When you found that the seed would not grown, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you. Ling was the only one with the courage and honesty to bring me a pot with my seed in it. Therefore, he is the one who will be the new emperor!"

I'll hold my candle high, and then
Perhaps I'll see the hearts of men
Above the sordidness of life,
Beyond misunderstandings, strife.
Though many deeds that others do
Seem foolish, rash and sinful too,
Just who am I to criticize
What I perceive with my dull eyes?
I'll hold my candle high, and then
Perhaps I'll see the hearts of men.

EVERYBODY KNOWS ...

You can't be all things to all people.
You can't do all things at once.
You can't do all things equally well.
You can't do all things better than everyone else.
Your humanity is showing just like everyone else's.

SO ...

You have to find out who you are, and be that.
You have to decide what comes first, and do that.
You have to discover your strengths, and use them.
You have to learn not to compete with others,
Because no one else is in the contest of "being you."

THEN ...

You will have learned to accept your own uniqueness.
You will have learned to set priorities and make decisions.
You will have learned to live with your limitations.
You will have learned to give yourself the respect that is due,
And you'll be a most vital mortal.

DARE TO BELIEVE ...

That you are a wonderful, unique person.
That you are a once-in-all-history event.
That it's more than a right, it's your duty, to be who you are.
That life is not a problem to solve, but a gift to cherish.
And you'll be able to stay one up on what used to get you down.

An eight-year-old boy approached an old man in front of a wishing well, looked up into his eyes, and asked:
"I understand you're a very wise man. I'd like to know the secret of life."

The old man looked down at the youngster and replied:
"I've thought a lot in my lifetime, and the secret can be summed up in four words. The first is think. Think about the values you wish to live your life by. The second is believe. Believe in yourself based on the thinking you've done about the values you're going to live your life by. The third is dream. Dream about the things that can be, based on your belief in yourself and the values you're going to live by. The last is dare. Dare to make your dreams become reality, based on your belief in yourself and your values."

And with that, Walter E. Disney said to the little boy, "Think, Believe, Dream, and Dare."

Once upon a time it was announced that the devil was going out of business and would sell all his equipment to those who were willing to pay the price.

On the big day of the sale, all his tools were attractively displayed.

There were Envy, Jealousy, Hatred, Malice, Deceit, Sensuality, Pride, Idolatry, and other implements of evil display.

Each of the tools was Marked with its own price tag.

Over in the corner by itself was a harmless looking, wedge-shaped tool very much worn, but still it bore a higher price than any of the others.

Someone asked the devil what it was, and he answered, "That is Discouragement."

The next question came quickly, "And why is it priced so high even though it is plain to see that it is worn more than these others?"

Because replied the devil, "It is more useful to me than all these others.

I can pry open and get into a man's heart with that when I cannot get near him with any other too Once I get inside, I can use him in whatever way suits me best.

It is worn well because I use it on everybody I can, and few people even know it belongs to me."

This tool was priced so high that no one could buy it, and to this day it has never been sold.

It still belongs to the devil, and he still uses it on mankind.

The greatest pain in life is not to die, but to be ignored.

--- To lose the person you love so much to another who doesn't care at all.

--- To have someone you care so about so much throw a party... and not tell you about it.

--- When your favorite person on earth neglects to invite you to his graduation.

--- To have people think that you don't care.

The greatest pain in life, is not to die, but to be forgotten.

--- To be left in the dust after another's great achievement.

--- To never get a call from a friend, just saying "hi".

--- When you show someone your innermost thoughts and they laugh in your face.

--- For friends to always be too busy to console you when you need someone to lift your spirits.

--- When it seems like the only person who cares about you, is you.

--- Life is full of pain, but does it ever get better?

Will people ever care about each other, and make time for those who are in need?

Each of us has a part to play in this great show we call life.

Each of us has a duty to mankind to tell our friends we love them.

If you do not care about your friends you will not be punished.

You will simply be ignored...forgotten...as you have done to others.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man was Herbert J. Taylor who surveyed the way the company did it's business, which was the sale of aluminum pots and pans. The nature of the industry was fraught with unethical business practices. To bring the business out of bankruptcy Taylor knew that he had to change the way business was conducted. Ultimately he developed a very simple business philosophy that all employees were to follow in all of their business dealings with customers, suppliers and associates. The philosophy changed the business, turned the business around and ultimately brought it out of bankruptcy.

The business philosophy is a simple four step decision making tool. It didn't tell people what to do or how to think, but it did give them a tool to use in all of their business dealings. The tool is now well known to anyone that has ever associated themselves with Rotary International. It is simple The Four Way Test. The tip is to use this simple decision making tool in your life and see if it doesn't make a difference. As people, we must all stand by our personal honesty and integrity. This is a handy and simple test of what you say, do or think. Give it a try in your life.

The Four Way Test

1. Is it the TRUTH?
2. Is it FAIR to all concerned?
3. Will it build GOODWILL and better friendships?
4. Will it be BENEFICIAL to all concerned?

By the way, this tool made Herbert Taylor a multimillionaire in the 1930s. So it's also a very profitable way of doing business.

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole, which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your masters house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts." The pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the masters house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the Pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pots side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my masters table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We re all cracked pots. Don't be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.

If the sky above seems cloudy,
And you are left out in the rain,
If you are searching for a rainbow,
But the colors bring you pain,
If your world is not revolving,
And there is no end in sight,
If you are looking for the sunshine,
But all you see is night,
If all around are smiling,
But all you can do is frown,
If you are tired of all this living,
When life just brings you down,

Then look beyond your teardrops,
At the wonders of this land,
The beauty of a flower,
Like velvet in your hand.
Feel the air around you,
The smell of new mown hay,
Laughing children in the park,
The innocence there at play,

Imagine floating with a butterfly,
As she flutters between the trees,
Or the whispers of the ocean,
On warm hot summer's breeze,
Think of the taste of candy floss,
As it melts upon your tongue,
Or the melody of morning birds,
As they greet each day with song,
Remember words of beauty,
Told in your mother's embrace,
Feel the gentleness of her touch,
As she softly kissed your face,

Seek the good within you,
Cast the clouds from your sky,
Don't look toward the pavement,
But hold your head up high,
Think not what life owes you,
But of all you have to give,
Forget about tomorrow,
Then you can start to live.

So Bless this age your are living in,
With the gifts you can bestow,
Don't disregard the stream of life,
Go gently with the flow.

You spend years trying to get them off the ground.

You run with them until you are both breathless. They crash ... they hit the roof ... you patch, comfort and assure them that someday they will fly.

Finally, they are airborne.

They need more string, and you keep letting it out.

They tug, and with each twist of the twine, there is sadness that goes with joy.

The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you together and will soar as meant to soar ... free and alone.

Only then do you know that you have done your job.

Not too long ago I had "one of those days." I was feeling pressure from a writing deadline. I had company arriving in a couple days and the toilet was clogged.

I went to the bank, and the trainee teller processing my deposit had to start over three times. I swung by the supermarket to pick up a few things and the lines were serpentine. By the time I got home, I was frazzled and sweaty and in a hurry to get something on the table for dinner.

Deciding on Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup, I grabbed a can opener, cranked open the can, then remembered I had forgotten to buy milk at the store. Nix the soup idea. Setting the can aside, I went to plan B, which was leftover baked beans. I grabbed a Tupperware from the fridge, popped the seal, took a look and groaned. My husband isn't a picky eater, but even he won't eat baked beans that look like caterpillars. Really frustrated, now, I decided on a menu that promised to be as foolproof as it is nutrition-free: hot dogs and potato chips.

Retrieving a brand new bag of chips from the cupboard, I grabbed the cellophane and gave a hearty pull. The bag didn't open. I tried again. Nothing happened. I took a breath, doubled my muscle, and gave the bag a hearty wrestle. With a loud pop, the cellophane suddenly gave way, ripping wide from top to bottom. Chips flew sky high. I was left holding the bag, and it was empty. It was the final straw. I let out a blood curdling scream. "I can't take it anymore!!!"

My husband heard my unorthodox cry for help. Within minutes he was standing at the doorway to the kitchen, where he surveyed the damage: an opened can of soup, melting groceries, moldy baked beans, and one quivering wife standing ankle deep in potato chips. My husband did the most helpful thing he could think of at the moment. He took a flying leap, landing flat-footed in the pile of chips. And then he began to stomp and dance and twirl, grinding those chips into my linoleum in the process! I stared. I fumed. Pretty soon I was working to stifle a smile. Eventually I had to laugh.

And finally I decided to join him. I, too, took a leap onto the chips. And then I danced. Now I'll be the first to admit that my husband's response wasn't the one I was looking for. But the truth is, it was exactly what I needed. I didn't need a cleanup crew as much as I needed an attitude adjustment, and the laughter from that rather funky moment provided just that.

Now I have a question for you, and it's simply this: Has God ever stomped on your chips? I know that, in my life, there have been plenty of times when I've gotten myself into frustrating situations and I've cried out for help, all the while hoping God would show up with a celestial broom and clean up the mess I've made of things.

What often happens instead is that God dances on my chips, answering my prayer in a completely different manner than I had expected, but in the manner that is best for me after all. Sometimes I can see right away that God's response was the best one after all. Sometimes I have to wait weeks or months before I begin to understand how and why God answered a particular prayer the way He did. There are even some situations that, years later, I'm still trying to understand. I figure God will fill me in sooner or later, either this side of Heaven or beyond.

Do I trust Him? Even when he's answering my prayers in a way that is completely different from my expectations? Even when he's dancing and stomping instead of sweeping and mopping? Can I embrace what He's offering? Can I let His joy adjust my attitude? Am I going to stand on the sidelines and sulk, or am I willing to learn the steps of the dance He's dancing' with my needs in mind?

I'll be honest with you: Sometimes I sulk. Sometimes I dance. I'm working on doing more of the latter than the former. I guess the older I get the more I realize that He really does know what He's doing. He loves me and I can trust Him. Even when the chips are down.

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

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

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

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

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

Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, If I were any better, I would be twins!

He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?

Michael replied, Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Mike, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood.

Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.

Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.

Yeah, right, it isn't that easy, I protested. Yes, it is, Michael said. Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood.

The bottom line is: It's your choice how you live life.

I reflected on what Michael said. Soon thereafter, I left the tower industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.

I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied. If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars? I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place.

The first thing that went through my mind was the well being of my soon to be born daughter, Michael replied. Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live.

Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness I asked? Michael continued, ..the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the face of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man. I knew I needed to take action. What did you do I asked?

Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me, said Michael. She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes, I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, Gravity. Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'

Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died. He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He was pleased that he had finally arrived at heaven, and the man and his dog walked toward the gate. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting at a beautifully carved desk off to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, but is this heaven?"

"Yes, it is, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.

"I assume my friend can come in..." the man said, gesturing toward his dog.

But the reply was, "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going. After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate. There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it. As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree in a rickety old chair, reading a book. "Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there," the man said, pointing to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in and make yourself at home."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"He's welcome too, and there's a bowl by the pump," he said. They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a dipper hanging on it and a bowl next to it on the ground. The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself.

When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is heaven," was the answer.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "It certainly doesn't look like heaven, and there's another man down the road who said that place was heaven."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?"

"Yes, it was beautiful."

"Nope. That's hell."

"Doesn't it offend you for them to use the name of heaven like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out the people who are willing to leave their best friends behind."

Christianity is not a voice in the wilderness, but a life in the world.

It is not a idea in the air but feet on the ground, going Gods way.

It is not an exotic to be kept under glass, but a hardy plant to bear twelve months of fruits in all kinds of weather. Fidelity to duty its roots and branch.

Nothing we can say to the Lord, no calling Him by great or dear names, can take the place of the plain doing of His will.

We may cry about the duty of eating bread with Him in His kingdom, but it is wasted bread and rootless hope, unless we plant and plow in His kingdom here and now.

To remember Him at His table and to forget Him at ours, is to have invested in bad securities.

There is no substitute for plain, everyday goodness.

When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf,
And the world makes you King for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that guy has to say.
For it isn't your Father, or Mother, or Wife,
Who judgement upon you must pass.
The feller whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.
He's the feller to please, never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear up to the end,
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.
You may be like Jack Horner and "chisel" a plum,
And think you're a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.
You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
If you've cheated the guy in the glass

Special Note:
We formerly referred to this poem as "Man in the Glass". However, we now have additional information on who the author is and the correct title.
The correct title is "The Guy in the Glass" and was written by Peter "Dale" Wimbrow Sr., (1895-1954). The copyright information is in The American Magazine which was published in 1934.

We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then, we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?

Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred D Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - REAL LIFE. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then, life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way.

So, treasure every moment that you have. And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time with... and remember that time waits for no one. Stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until fall, until winter, until you are off welfare, until the first or fifteenth, until your song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up, until you die -- to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy. Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

Bare foot 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, but never did one person stop.

Just so happens, the next day I decided to go back to the park, curious if the little girl would still be there. Right in the very spot as she was yesterday, she sat perched on high, with the saddest look in her eyes. Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. As we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone. As I began walking towards her, I could see the back of the little girl's dress indicated a deformity. I figured that was the reason the people just passed by and made no effort to help. As I got closer, the little girl slightly lowered her eyes to avoid my intent stare. I could see the shape of her back more clearly. It 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 'til darkness fell and the park was completely empty. Everyone was gone and we at once were alone. I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me and with a sad face said, "Because I'm different." I immediately said, "that you are!" and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder, she said, "I know."

"Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent." She looked at me and smiled, slowly she stood to her feet, and said, "Really?"

"Yes, dear, you're like a little guardian angel sent to watch over all those people walking by."

She nodded her head "yes" and smiled, and with that she spread her wings and 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." Immediately I stood to my feet and said, "Wait, so why did no one stop to help an angel?" She looked at me and smiled, "You're the only one who could see me, and you believe it in your heart." And 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. Mine was ...

One of my fondest memories as a child is going by the river and sitting idly on the bank. There I would enjoy the peace and quiet, watch the water rush downstream, and listen to the chirps of birds and the rustling of leaves in the trees. I would also watch the bamboo trees bend under pressure from the wind and watch them return gracefully to their upright or original position after the wind had died down.

When I think about the bamboo tree's ability to bounce back or return to it's original position, the word resilience comes to mind. When used in reference to a person this word means the ability to readily recover from shock, depression or any other situation that stretches the limits of a person's emotions.

Have you ever felt like you are about to snap? Have you ever felt like you are at your breaking point? Thankfully, you have survived the experience to live to talk about it.

During the experience you probably felt a mix of emotions that threatened your health. You felt emotionally drained, mentally exhausted and you most likely endured unpleasant physical symptoms.

Life is a mixture of good times and bad times, happy moments and unhappy moments. The next time you are experiencing one of those bad times or unhappy moments that take you close to your breaking point, bend but don't break. Try your best not to let the situation get the best of you.

A measure of hope will take you through the unpleasant ordeal. With hope for a better tomorrow or a better situation, things may not be as bad as they seem to be. The unpleasant ordeal may be easier to deal with if the end result is worth having.

If the going gets tough and you are at your breaking point, show resilience. Like the bamboo tree, bend, but don't break!

The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.

While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching tips of the branches with both hands.

When opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again." "Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there ain't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

I have in my hands two boxes
Which God gave me to hold.
He said, "Put all your sorrows in the black,
And all your joys in the gold."

I heeded his words, and in the two boxes
Both my joys and sorrows I store.
But though the gold became heavier each day
The black was as light as before.

With curiosity, I opened the black.
I wanted to find out why.
And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole
Which my sorrows had fallen out by.

I showed the hole to God, and mused aloud,
"I wonder where my sorrows could be."
He smiled a gentle smile at me.
"My child, they're all here with me."

I asked, "God, why give me the boxes,"
"Why the gold, and the black with the hole?"
"My child, the gold is for you to count your blessings,
The black is for you to let go."

When the great library of Alexandria burned, the story goes, one book was saved. But it was not a valuable book; and so a poor man, who could read a little, bought it for a few coppers.

The book wasn't very interesting, but between its pages there was something very interesting indeed. It was a thin strip of vellum on which was written the secret of the "Touchstone"!

The touchstone was a small pebble that could turn any common metal into pure gold. The writing explained that it was lying among thousands and thousands of other pebbles that looked exactly like it. But the secret was this: The real stone would feel warm, while ordinary pebbles are cold.

So the man sold his few belongings, bought some simple supplies, camped on the seashore, and began testing pebbles.

He knew that if he picked up ordinary pebbles and threw them down again because they were cold, he might pick up the same pebble hundreds of times. So, when he felt one that was cold, he threw it into the sea. He spent a whole day doing this but none of them was the touchstone. Yet he went on and on this way. Pick up a pebble. Cold - throw it into the sea. Pick up another. Throw it into the sea.

The days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months. One day, however, about midafternoon, he picked up a pebble and it was warm. He threw it into the sea before he realized what he had done. He had formed such a strong habit of throwing each pebble into the sea that when the one he wanted came along, he still threw it away.

So it is with opportunity. Unless we are vigilant, it's easy to fail to recognize an opportunity when it is in hand and it's just as easy to throw it away.

The only survivor of a shipwreck washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.

Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements and to store his few possessions.

But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, with the smoke rolling up to the sky.

The worst had happened; everything was lost.

He was stung with grief and anger.

"God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.

Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him.

"How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers.

"We saw your smoke signal," they replied.

Never forget blessings do come in disguise!!

They carried P-38 can openers and heat tabs, watches and dog tags, insect repellent, gum, cigarettes, Zippo lighters, salt tablets, compress bandages, ponchos, Kool-Aid, two or three canteens of water, iodine tablets, sterno, LRRP- rations, and C-rations stuffed in socks.

They carried standard fatigues, jungle boots, bush hats, flak jackets and steel pots.

They carried the M-16 assault rifle.

They carried trip flares and Claymore mines, M-60 machine-guns, the M-70 grenade launcher, M-14's, CAR-15's, Stoners, Swedish K's, 66mmLaws, shotguns, .45 caliber pistols, silencers, the sound of bullets, rockets, and choppers, and sometimes the sound of silence.

They carried C-4plastic explosives, an assortment of hand grenades, PRC-25 radios, knives and machetes. Some carried napalm, CBU's and large bombs; some risked their lives to rescue others. Some escaped the fear, but dealt with the death and damage. Some made very hard decisions, and some just tried to survive.

They carried malaria, dysentery, ringworm's and leaches. They carried the land itself as it hardened on their boots. They carried stationery, pencils, and pictures of their loved ones - real and imagined. They carried love for people in the real world and love for one another. And sometimes they disguised that love:"Don't mean nothin'!" They carried memories for the most part, they carried themselves with poise and a kind of dignity.

Now and then, there were times when panic set in, and people squealed or wanted to, but couldn't; when they twitched and made moaning sounds and covered their heads and said "Dear God"and hugged the earth and fired their weapons blindly and cringed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and God and their parents, hoping not to die. They carried the traditions of the United States military, and memories and images of those who served before them.

They carried grief, terror, longing and their reputations. They carried the soldier's greatest fear: the embarrassment of dishonor. They crawled into tunnels, walked point, and advanced under fire, so as not to die of embarrassment. They were afraid of dying, but too afraid to show it. They carried the emotional baggage of men and women who might die at any moment. They carried the weight of the world.

THEY CARRIED EACH OTHER

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

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

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

Once a man had a dream in which his hands and feet and mouth and brain all began to rebel against his stomach.

"You good-for-nothing sluggard!" the hands said. "We work all day long, sawing and hammering and lifting and carrying. By evening we're covered with blisters and scratches, and our joints ache, and we're covered with dirt. And meanwhile you just sit there, hogging all the food."

"We agree!" cried the feet. "Think how sore we get, walking back and forth all day long. And you just stuff yourself full, you greedy pig, so that you're that much heavier to carry about."

"That's right!" whined the mouth. "Where do you think all that food you love comes form? I'm the one who has to chew it all up, and as soon as I'm finished you suck it all down for yourself. Do you call that fair?"

"And what about me?" called the brain. "Do you think it's easy being up here, having to think about where your next meal is going to come from? And yet I get nothing at all for my pains."

And one by one the parts of the body joined the complaint against the stomach, which didn't say anything at all.

"I have an idea," the brain finally announced. "Let's all rebel against the lazy belly, and stop working for it."

"Superb idea!" all the other members and organs agreed. "We'll teach you how important we are, you pig. Then maybe you'll do a little work of your own."

So they all stopped working. The hands refused to do lifting and carrying. The feet refused to walk. The mouth promised not to chew or swallow a single bite. And the brain swore it wouldn't come up with any more bright ideas. At first the stomach growled a bit, as it always did when it was hungry. But after a while it was quiet.

Then, to the dreaming man's surprise, he found he could not walk. He could not grasp anything in his hand. He could not even open his mouth. And he suddenly began to feel rather ill.

The dream seemed to go on for several days. As each day passed, the man felt worse and worse. "This rebellion had better not last much longer," he thought to himself, "or I'll starve."

Meanwhile, the hands and feet and mouth and brain just lay there, getting weaker and weaker. At first they roused themselves just enough to taunt the stomach every once in a while, but before long they didn't even have the energy for that.

Finally the man heart a faint voice coming from the direction of his feet.

"It could be that we were wrong," they were saying. "We suppose the stomach might have been working in his own way all along."

"I was just thinking the same thing," murmured the brain. "It's true that he's been getting all the food. But it seems he's been sending most of it right back to us."

"We might as well admit our error," the mouth said. "The stomach has just as much work to do as the hands and feet and brain and teeth."

"Then let's get back to work," they cried together. And at that the man woke up.

To his relief, he discovered his feet could walk again. His hands could grasp, his mouth could chew, and his brain could now think clearly. He began to feel much better.

"Well, there's a lesson for me," he thought as he filled his stomach at breakfast. "Either we all work together, or nothing works at all."

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."

Quit, Give up! You're beaten! They shout at me and plead.
There's just too much against you now, this time you can't succeed.

And as I start to hang my head in front of failure's face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

And hope fills my weakened will, as I recall that scene
For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.

A children's race -- young boys, young girls.
How I remember so well.

They all lined up so full of hope; each thought to win that race,
Or tie for first, or if not that, at least tie for second place.

And every parent watched from off the side, cheering for their daughters and their sons,
And every kid hoped to show their mom and dad, that they would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went, young hearts and hopes afire.
To win and be the hero was each and every kid's desire.

And one boy in particular whose dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought, my dad will be so proud.

But as they speeded down the field, across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.

And trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace,
Mid the laughter of the crowd he fell right upon his face.

So down he fell and with him hope, he couldn't win it now,
Embarrassed, sad, if he could only disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said, "Get up and win the race."

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit, that's all,
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself -- to catch up and to win, His mind went faster than his legs -- and he slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace,
"I'm hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn't try to race."

But in the laughing crowd, he searched and found his father's face,
That steady look which said again, "Get up and win the race."

So up he jumped to try again, ten yards behind the last.
"If I'm going to gain those yards," he thought, "I've got to move real fast."

Exerting everything he had, he regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
"There's no sense running any more. Three strikes, I'm out. Why should I even try?

The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away.
So far behind, so error prone, a loser all the way.

"I've lost, so what's the use?" he thought, "I'll live with my disgrace."
But then he thought about his dad whom soon he'd have to face.

Get up, an echo sounded, get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here, Get up and win the race.

With borrowed will, Get up, it said, You haven't lost at all.
For winning is no more than this: To rise each time you fall.

So up he rose to run once more, and with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been.
Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.

Three times he'd fallen, stumbling: Three time he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran his best to the end.

They cheered the winning runner as she crossed the line in first place.
Head high and proud, and happy, no falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster crossed the line in final place,
The crowd gave him the greatest cheer for just finishing the race.

And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud, You would have thought he'd won the race to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well."
"To me, you won," his father said, "You rose each time you fell."

And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy should help all of us in our race.

For all of life is like that race with ups and down and all,
And all you have to do to win, is rise each time you fall.

"Quit, give up, you're beaten," they will always shout in your face.
But another voice within you will say, "Get up and win the race."

I woke up early today, excited over all I get to do before the clock strikes midnight. My job is to choose what kind of day I am going to have.

Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankful that the grass is getting watered for free.

Today I can feel sad that I don't have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.

Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.

Today I can lament over all that my parents didn't give me when I was growing up or I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.

Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.

Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon a quest to discover new job relationships.

Today I can whine because I have to go to work or I can shout for joy because I have a job to go to!

Today I can complain because I have to go to school or eagerly open my mind and fill it with knowledge and adventure.

Today I can dejectedly murmur because I have housework to do or I can feel grateful for shelter for my mind, body and soul.

Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped, and here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping. What today will be like is up to me. And I shall decide what kind of day I shall have!"

How will you live THIS DAY?

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."

Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."

Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."

After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees.

When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.

At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.

When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down."

When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for.

The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end.

The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark.

The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.

Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.

Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.

Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.

The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined.

We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

New York City: It's a cold day in December. A little boy about 10-year-old was standing before a shoe store on Broadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?"

"I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boy's reply.

The lady took him by the hand and went into the store, and asked the clerk to get a half dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel.

By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she then purchased him a pair of shoes, and tying up the remaining pairs of socks, gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?"

As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand, and looking up in her face, with tears in his eyes, answered the question with these words: "Are you God's wife?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything?

It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window --- and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence-deathly silence.

The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take him away. No words, no fuss.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed...........

It faced a blank wall.

With all her big brothers and sisters off to school, our ranch became a lonely place for our three-year-old daughter, Becky. She longed for playmates. Cattle and horses were too big to cuddle and farm machinery dangerous for a child so small. We promised to buy her a puppy but in the meantime, "Pretend" puppies popped up nearly every day.

I had just finished washing the lunch dishes when the screen door slammed and Becky rushed in, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mama!" she cried. "Come see my new doggy!

"I gave him water two times already. He's so thirsty!" I sighed. Another of Becky's imaginary dogs.

"Please come, Mama." She tugged at my jeans, her brown eyes pleading, "He's crying -- and he can't walk!" "Can't walk?" Now that was a twist. All her previous make-believe dogs could do marvelous things. One balanced a ball on the end of its nose. Another dug a hole that went all the way through the earth and fell out on a star on the other side. Still another danced on a tightrope. Why suddenly a dog that couldn't walk?

"All right, honey," I said. By the time I tried to follow her, Becky had already disappeared into the mesquite.

"Where are you?" I called.

"Over here by the oak stump. Hurry, Mama!"

I parted the thorny branches and raised my hand against the glare of the Arizona sun. A numbing chill gripped me. There she was, sitting on her heels, toes dug firmly in the sand, and cradled in her lap was the unmistakable head of a wolf! Beyond its head rose massive black shoulders. The rest of the body lay completely hidden inside the hollow stump of a fallen oak.

"Becky," My mouth felt dry. "Don't move." I stepped closer. Pale-yellow eyes narrowed. Black lips tightened, exposing double sets of two-inch fangs. Suddenly the wolf trembled. Its teeth clacked, and a piteous whine rose from its throat. "It's all right, boy," Becky crooned. "Don't be afraid. That's my mama, and she loves you, too."

Then the unbelievable happened. As her tiny hands stroked the great shaggy head, I heard the gentle thump, thump, thumping of the wolf's tail from deep inside the stump. What was wrong with the animal? I wondered. Why couldn't he get up? I couldn't tell. Nor did I dare to step any closer. I glanced at the empty water bowl. My memory flashed back to the five skunks that last week had torn the burlap from a leaking pipe in a frenzied effort to reach water during the final agonies of rabies. Of course! Rabies! Warning signs had been posted all over the county, and hadn't Becky said, "He's so thirsty?" I had to get Becky away.

"Honey." My throat tightened. "Put his head down and come to Mama. We'll go find help." Reluctantly, Becky got up and kissed the wolf on the nose before she walked slowly into my outstretched arms. Sad yellow eyes followed her. Then the wolf's head sank to the ground. With Becky safe in my arms, I ran to the barns where Brian, one of our cowhands, was saddling up to check heifers in the North pasture. "Brian! Come quickly. Becky found a wolf in the oak stump near the wash! I think it has rabies!"

"I'll be there in a jiffy," he said as I hurried back to the house, eager to put Becky down for her nap. I didn't want her to see Brian come out of the bunkhouse. I knew he'd have a gun.

"But I want to give my doggy his water," she cried. I kissed her and gave her some stuffed animals to play with.

"Honey, let Mom and Brian take care of him for now," I said. Moments later, I reached the oak stump.

Brian stood looking down at the beast. "It's a Mexican lobo, all right." He said, " And a big one!" The wolf whined. Then we both caught the smell of gangrene. "Whew! It's not rabies," Brian said. "But he's sure hurt real bad. Don't you think it's best I put him out of his misery?"

The word "yes" was on my lips, when Becky emerged from the bushes. "Is Brian going to make him well, Mama?" She hauled the animal's head onto her lap once more, and buried her face in the coarse, dark fur. This time I wasn't the only one who heard the thumping of the lobo's tail.

That afternoon my husband, Bill, and our veterinarian came to see the wolf. Observing the trust the animal had in our child, Doc said to me, "Suppose you let Becky and me tend to this fella together." Minutes later, as child and vet reassured the stricken beast, the hypodermic found its mark. The yellow eyes closed. "He's asleep now," said the vet. "Give me a hand here, Bill." They hauled the massive body out of the stump. The animal must have been over five feet long and well over one-hundred pounds. The hip and leg had been mutilated by bullets. Doc did what he had to in order to clean the wound and then gave the patient a dose of penicillin. Next day he returned and inserted a metal rod to replace the missing bone.

"Well, it looks like you've got yourselves a Mexican lobo," Doc said. "He looks to be about three years old, and even as pups, they don't tame real easy. I'm amazed at the way this big fella took to your little gal. But often there's something that goes on between children and animals that we grownups don't understand."

Becky named the wolf Ralph and carried food and water to the stump every day.

Ralph's recovery was not easy. For three months he dragged his injured hindquarters by clawing the earth with his front paws. From the way he lowered his eyelids when we massaged the atrophied limbs, we knew he endured excruciating pain, but not once did he ever try to bite the hands of those who cared for him.

Four months to the day, Ralph finally stood unaided. His huge frame shook as long- unused muscles were activated. Bill and I patted and praised him. But it was Becky to whom he turned for a gentle word, a kiss or a smile. He responded to these gestures of love by swinging his busy tail like a pendulum. As his strength grew, Ralph followed Becky all over the ranch. Together they roamed the desert pastures, the golden-haired child often stooping low, sharing with the great lame wolf whispered secrets of nature's wonders. When evening came, he returned like a silent shadow to his hollow stump that had surely become his special place.

As time went on, although he lived primarily in the brush, the habits of this timid creature endeared him more and more to all of us. His reaction to people other than our family was yet another story. Strangers terrified him, yet his affection for and protectiveness of Becky brought him out of the desert and fields at the sight of every unknown pickup or car. Occasionally he'd approach, lips taut, exposing a nervous smile full of chattering teeth. More often he'd simply pace and finally skulk off to his tree stump, perhaps to worry alone.

Becky's first day of school was sad for Ralph. After the bus left, he refused to return to the yard. Instead, he lay by the side of the road and waited. When Becky returned, he limped and tottered in wild, joyous circles around her. This welcoming ritual persisted throughout her school years.

Although Ralph seemed happy on the ranch, he disappeared into the surrounding deserts and mountains for several weeks during the spring mating season, leaving us to worry about his safety. This was calving season, and fellow ranchers watched for coyotes, cougars, wild dogs and, of course, the lone wolf. But Ralph was lucky.

During Ralph's twelve years on our ranch, his habits remained unchanged. Always keeping his distance, he tolerated other pets and endured the activities of our busy family, but his love for Becky never wavered. Then the spring came when our neighbor told us he'd shot and killed a she-wolf and grazed her mate, who had been running with her. Sure enough, Ralph returned home with another bullet wound. Becky, nearly fifteen years old now, sat with Ralph's head resting on her lap. He, too, must have been about fifteen and was gray with age. As Bill removed the bullet, my memory raced back through the years. Once again I saw a chubby three-year-old girl stroking the head of a huge black wolf and heard a small voice murmuring, "It's all right, boy. Don't be afraid. That's my mama, and she loves you, too."

Although the wound wasn't serious, this time Ralph didn't get well. Precious pounds fell away. The once luxurious fur turned dull and dry, and his trips to the yard in search of Becky's companionship ceased. All day long he rested quietly. But when night fell, old and stiff as he was, he disappeared into the desert and surrounding hills. By dawn his food was gone. The morning came when we found him dead. The yellow eyes were closed. Stretched out in front of the oak stump, he appeared but a shadow of the proud beast he once had been. A lump in my throat choked me as I watched Becky stroke his shaggy neck, tears streaming down her face. "I'll miss him so," she cried.

Then as I covered him with a blanket, we were startled by a strange rustling sound from inside the stump. Becky looked inside. Two tiny yellow eyes peered back and puppy fangs glinted in the semidarkness. Ralph's pup! Had a dying instinct told him his motherless offspring would be safe here, as he had been, with those who loved him? Hot tears spilled on baby fur as Becky gathered the trembling bundle in her arms. "It's all right, little . . . Ralphie," she murmured. "Don't be afraid. That's my mom, and she loves you, too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beginning today I will no longer worry about yesterday.
It is in the past and the past will never change.
Only I can change by choosing to do so.

Beginning today I will no longer worry about tomorrow.
Tomorrow will always be there, waiting for me to make the most of it.
But I cannot make the most of tomorrow without first
making the most of today.

Beginning today I will look in the mirror and I will see a person worthy
of my respect and admiration.
This capable person looking back at me is someone I enjoy spending time
with and someone I would like to get to know better.

Beginning today I will cherish each moment of my life.
I value this gift bestowed upon me in this world and I will unselfishly
share this gift with others.
I will use this gift to enhance the lives of others.

Beginning today I will take a moment to step off the beaten path and to
revel in the mysteries I encounter.
I will face challenges with courage and determination.
I will overcome what barriers there may be which hinder my quest for
growth and self-improvement.

Beginning today I will take life one day at a time, one step at a time.
Discouragement will not be allowed to taint my positive self-image,
my desire to succeed or my capacity to love.

Beginning today I walk with renewed faith in human kindness.
Regardless of what has gone before, I believe there is hope
for a brighter and better future.

Beginning today I will open my mind and my heart.
I will welcome new experiences. I will meet new people.
I will not expect perfection from myself nor anyone else: perfection does not exist in an imperfect world.
But I will applaud the attempt to overcome human foibles.

Beginning today I am responsible for my own happiness and I will do
things that make me happy . . .
admire the beautiful wonders of nature, listen to my favorite music,
pet a kitten or a puppy, soak in a bubble bath . . .
pleasure can be found in the most simple of gestures.

Beginning today I will learn something new; I will try something
different; I will savor all the various flavors life has to offer.
I will change what I can and the rest I will let go.
I will strive to become the best me I can possibly be.

Beginning today. And every day.

Just a thought, but as I often think of you and realize how much God
loves you, sometimes I think we need to also love ourselves through His
eyes.

God Bless.

One day, a man went to visit a church. He arrived early, parked his car, and got out. Another car pulled up near him, and the driver told him, "I always park there. You took my place!"

The visitor went inside for Sunday School, found an empty seat, and sat down. A young lady from the church approached him and stated, "That's my seat! You took my place!"

The visitor was somewhat distressed by this rude welcome, but said nothing.

After Sunday School, the visitor went into the church sanctuary and sat down. Another member walked up to him and said, "That's where I always sit. You took my place!"

The visitor was even more troubled by this treatment, but still said nothing.

Later, as the congregation was praying for Christ to dwell among them, the visitor stood, and his appearance began to change.

Horrible scars became visible on his hands and on his sandaled feet.

Someone from the congregation noticed him and called out, "What happened to you?"

The visitor replied, "I took your place."

May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let His presence settle into our bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, and to bask in the sun. It is there for each and every one of you.

Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your love and tenderness sealed up, until your friends are dead.
Fill their lives with sweetness.

Speak approving, cheering words while their ears can hear them and while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier by them. The kind things you mean to say when they are gone, say them before they go.

The flowers you mean to send-use to brighten and sweeten their homes before they leave them.

If my friends have alabaster boxes lay away, full of fragrant perfumes of sympathy and affection I would rather they would bring them out in my weary and troubled hours and open them, that I may be refreshed and cheered when I need them.

Let us learn to anoint our friends beforehand. Post-mortem kindness does not cheer the burdened spirit.

Flowers cast no fragrance backward over the weary way.

Becky Ellis was a loving, beautiful little girl; a third grader. She also suffered of Cerebral Palsy, which is a disease that effects a person physically. Becky had three sisters; Sara 14, Melissa 18, who suffered from mental retardation, and Laura who was 19. They were a loving family who lived with Christ in their hearts.

In the winter of '97 around Christmas time, they had gone up to the mountain, where they had a cabin, and rode snowmobiles in the snow. Becky, along with another woman, unfortunately lost control of their snowmobile and crashed right into a tree killing little Becky almost instantly.

Many people loved Becky; she was a very friendly, a bright little girl, and was missed by many. However that's only the beginning of the story.

The family asked one of their close family friends to attend Becky's funeral, a pastor. The pastor and his wife had been trying to have a baby for quite some years, and it just never happened. Two days before the funeral, the pastor's wife discovered that she was pregnant. Not only had she finally become pregnant, but the baby was born later that year in October, on the same day of little Becky's birthday.

That just shows you two things,
The Lord does answer prayers,
And that when one door closes, another door opens.

While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground. "That's my son over there," she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.

"He's a fine looking boy," the man said. "That's my son on the swing in the blue sweater." Then, looking at his watch, he called to his son. "What do you say we go, Todd?"

Todd pleaded, "Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes." The man nodded and Todd continued to swing to his heart's content.

Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his son. "Time to go now?"

Again Todd pleaded, "Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes." The man smiled and said, "Okay."

"My, you certainly are a patient father," the woman responded.

The man smiled and then said, "My older son Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I'd give anything for just five more minutes with him. I've vowed not to make the same mistake with Todd.

"He thinks he has five more minutes to swing. The truth is . . .
I get five more minutes to watch him play."

God won't ask what kind of car you drove.
He will ask how many people you took to church who didn't have a car.

God won't ask the square footage of your home.
He will ask how many people you helped who didn't have a home.

God won't ask how many fancy clothes you had in your closet.
He will ask how many of those clothes you gave away to Salvation Army.

God won't ask what social class you were in.
He will ask what kind of "class" you displayed.

God won't ask how many material possessions you had.
He will ask whether those material possessions dictated your life.

God won't ask what your highest salary was.
He will ask if you trampled over any people to obtain that salary.

God won't ask how much overtime you worked.
He will ask did you work overtime for your family.

God won't ask how many promotions you received.
He will ask what you did to promote others.

God won't ask what your job title was.
He will ask did you perform your job to the best of your ability.

God won't ask how many promotions you took to chase the dollar bill.
He will ask how many promotions you refused to advance your family's quality of life.

God won't ask how many times you didn't run around around on your spouse.
He will ask how many times you did.

God won't ask how many degrees you have.
He will ask how many people you thanked for getting those degrees.

God won't ask what your parents did to help you.
He will ask what you did to help your parents.

God won't ask what you did to help yourself.
He will ask what you did to help others.

God won't ask how many friends you had.
He will ask how many people you were a friend to.

God won't ask what you did to protect your rights.
He will ask what you did to protect the rights of others.

God won't ask what neighborhood you lived in.
He will ask what other neighborhoods you visited.

God won't ask how many times you told the truth.
He will ask how many times you told a lie.

God won't ask about the color of your skin.
He will ask about the color of your heart.

God won't ask how many times your deeds matched your words.
He will ask how many times they didn't.

God won't ask what neighborhood you lived in.
He will ask what other neighborhoods you visited.

God ordinarily will not show you His will in order for you to consider it.
He will show you His will when He knows you are willing to do it.

An Angel wrote:

Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.

To handle yourself, use your head;
To handle others, use your heart.

Anger is only one letter short of danger.

If someone betrays you once, it's his fault;
if he betrays you twice, it's your fault.

Great minds discuss ideas;
Average minds discuss events;
Small minds discuss people.

God gives every bird it's food, but He does not throw it into it's nest.

He who loses money, loses much;
He who loses a friend, loses more;
He who loses faith, loses all.

Beautiful young people are acts of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.

Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself.

The tongue weighs practically nothing, but so few people can hold it.

To realize the value of one year: Ask a student who has failed a final exam.

To realize the value of one month: Ask a mother who has given birth to a premature baby.

To realize the value of one week: Ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize the value of one hour: Ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.

To realize the value of one minute: Ask the person who has missed the train, bus or plane.

To realize the value of one second: Ask a person who has survived an accident.

To realize the value of one millisecond: Ask the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics.

Time waits for no one.

Treasure every moment you have. You will treasure it even more when you can share it with someone special.

It was a rainy night in New Orleans
At a bus station in the town,
I watched a young girl weeping
As her baggage was taken down.

It seems she'd lost her ticket
Changing buses in the night.
She begged them not to leave her there
With no sign of help in sight.

The bus driver had a face of stone
And his heart was surely the same.
"Losing your ticket's like losing cash money" he said,
And left her in the rain.

Then an old Indian man stood up
And blocked the driver's way
And would not let him pass before
He said what he had to say.
"How can you leave that girl out there?
Have you no God to fear?
You know she had a ticket.
You can't just leave her here.

You can't put her out in a city
Where she doesn't have a friend.
You will meet your schedule,
But she might meet her end."

The driver showed no sign
That he'd heard or even cared
About the young girl's problem
Or how her travels fared.

So the old gentleman said,
"For her fare I'll pay.
I'll give her a little money
To help her on her way."

He went and bought the ticket
And helped her to her place
And helped her put her baggage
In the overhead luggage space.

"How can I repay," she said,
"the kindness you've shown tonight?
We're strangers who won't meet again
A mere ' 'thank you ' doesn't seem right."

He said, "What goes around comes around.
This I've learned with time -
What you give, you always get back;
What you sow, you reap in kind.

Always be helpful to others
And give what you can spare;
For by being kind to strangers,
We help angels unaware."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

There are two days in every week about which we should not worry. Two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.

One of these days is yesterday, with its mistakes and cares, its faults and blunders, its aches and pains. Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control. All the money in the world cannot bring back yesterday. We cannot undo a single act we performed. We cannot erase a single word we said. Yesterday is gone!!

The other day we should not worry about is tomorrow, with its possible adversities, its burdens, its large promise and poor performance. Tomorrow is beyond our immediate control. Tomorrow's sun will rise, whether in splendor or behind a mask of clouds. But it will rise. Until it does we have no stake in tomorrow, for it is yet unborn.

This leaves only one day: today.

Any man can fight the battles of just one day. It is when you and I add the burdens of two awful eternities - yesterday and tomorrow, that we break down.

It is not necessarily the experience of today that disturbs one's peace of mind. It is often time the bitterness for something which happened yesterday and the dread of what tomorrow may bring. Let us therefore live one day at a time.

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

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

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

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

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,
or listened to rain slapping the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight,
or gazed at the sun fading into the night?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last.

Do you run through each day on the fly,
When you ask "How are you?", do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last.

Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow,
and in your haste not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die,
'cause you never had time to call and say "hi"?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere,
you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
it's like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life is not a race, so take it slower,
hear the music before the song is over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See what, Honey?" she asked.

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

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

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

"What about the driver?"

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

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

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

Today is the tomorrow I worried about yesterday
And today was such a lovely day,
that I wondered why I worried about today yesterday
So today I am not going to worry about tomorrow
There may not be a tomorrow anyway
So today I am going to live as if there is no tomorrow
And I am going to forget about yesterday.

Today is the tomorrow I planned for yesterday
And nearly all my plans for today did not plan out the way I thought they would yesterday
So today I am forgetting about tomorrow and I will plan for today
But not too strenuously
Today I will stop to smell a rose
I will tell a loved one how much I love her
I will stop planning for tomorrow and plan to make today the best day of my life.

Today is the tomorrow I was afraid of yesterday
And today was nothing to be afraid of
So today I will banish fear of the unknown
I will embrace the unknown as a learning experience full of exciting opportunities
Today, unlike yesterday I will not fear tomorrow.

Today is the tomorrow I dreamed about yesterday
And some of the dreams I dreamt about yesterday came true today
So today I am going to continue dreaming about tomorrow
And perhaps more of the dreams I dream today will come true tomorrow.

Today is the tomorrow I set goals for yesterday
And I reached some of those goals today
So today I am going to set slightly higher goals for today and tomorrow
And if tomorrow turns out to be like today
I will certainly reach all of my goals one day!

When young F. W. Woolworth was a store clerk, he tried to convince his boss to have a ten-cent sale to reduce inventory.

The boss agreed, and the idea was a resounding success. This inspired Woolworth to open his own store and price items at a nickel and a dime. He needed capital for such a venture, so he asked his boss to supply the capital for part interest in the store.

His boss turned him down flat. "The idea is too risky," he told Woolworth. "There are not enough items to sell for five and ten cents." Woolworth went ahead without his boss's backing, and he not only was successful in his first store, but eventually he owned a chain of F. W. Woolworth stores across the nation. Later, his former boss was heard to remark, "As far as I can figure out, every word I used to turn Woolworth down cost me about a million dollars."

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."

The American then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"

The Mexican said, "With this I have more than enough to support my family's needs."

The American then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you will run your ever- expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"

To which the American replied, "15 to 20 years."

"But what then?" asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said that's the best part. "When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."

"Millions?...Then what?"

The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

Years ago in Scotland, the Clark family had a dream. Clark and his wife worked and saved, making plans for their nine children and themselves to travel to the United States. It had taken years, but they had finally saved enough money and had gotten passports and reservations for the whole family on a new liner to the United States.

The entire family was filled with anticipation and excitement about their new life. However, seven days before their departure, a dog bit the youngest son. The doctor sewed up the boy but hung a yellow sheet on the Clarks' front door. Because of the possibility of rabies, they were being quarantined for fourteen days.

The family's dreams were dashed. They would not be able to make the trip to America as they had planned. The father, filled with disappointment and anger, stomped to the dock to watch the ship leave - without the Clark family. The father shed tears of disappointment and cursed both his son and God for their misfortune.

Five days later, the tragic news spread throughout Scotland - the mighty Titanic had sunk. The unsinkable ship had sunk, taking hundreds of lives with it. The Clark family was to have been on that ship, but because a dog had bitten the son, they were left behind in Scotland.

When Mr. Clark heard the news, he hugged his son and thanked him for saving the family. He thanked God for saving their lives and turning what he had felt was a tragedy into a blessing.

Although we may not always understand, all things happen for a reason.

Cherish things while you still have them,
before they're gone,
and you realize how precious they really are.

Life can only be understood backwards,
but it must be lived forwards.

Everything in life is temporary.
So if things are going good,
enjoy it because it won't last forever.
And if things are going bad,
don't worry because it won't last forever either.

Destiny is not a matter of chance,
it is a matter of choice;
it is not a thing to be waited for,
it is a thing to be achieved.

A journey of a thousand miles
begins with a single step.

Never cross a bridge
without knowing how to swim the tides.

If you could not add years to your life
Add life to your years.

About ten years ago when I was an undergraduate in college, I was working as an intern at my University's Museum of Natural History. One day while working at the cash register in the gift shop, I saw an elderly couple come in with a little girl in a wheelchair.

As I looked closer at this girl, I saw that she was kind of perched on her chair. I then realized she had no arms or legs, just a head, neck and torso. She was wearing a little white dress with red polka dots.

As the couple wheeled her up to me I was looking down at the register. I turned my head toward the girl and gave her a wink. As I took the money from her grandparents, I looked back at the girl, who was giving me the cutest, largest smile I have ever seen. All of a sudden her handicap was gone and all I saw was this beautiful girl, whose smile just melted me and almost instantly gave me a completely new sense of what life is all about. She took me from a poor, unhappy college student and brought me into her world; a world of smiles, love and warmth.

That was ten years ago. I'm a successful business person now and whenever I get down and think about the troubles of the world, I think about that little girl and the remarkable lesson about life that she taught me.

Why Mothers Cry ...

"Why are you crying?" he asked his mom.

"Because I'm a mother," she told him.

"I don't understand," he said.

His mom just hugged him and said, "You never will!"

Later the little boy asked his father why Mother seemed to cry for no reason.

"All mothers cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why mothers cry. So he finally put in a call to God and when God got on the phone the man said, "God, why do mothers cry so easily."

God said, "You see son, when I made mothers they had to be special. I made their shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort. I gave them an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times come from their children.

"I gave them a hardiness that allows them to keep going when everyone else gives up, and to take care of their families through sickness and fatigue without complaining.

"I gave them the sensitivity to love their children under all circumstances, even when their child has hurt them very badly. This same sensitivity helps them to make a child's boo-boo feel better and helps them share a teenager's anxieties and fears.

"I gave them a tear to shed. It's theirs exclusively to use whenever it's needed. It's their only weakness.

It's a tear for mankind."