Alicia von Stamwitz
The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractiveyoung 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 againsther leg. It had been a year since Susan, thirty-four, became blind. Due to amedical misdiagnosis she had been rendered sightness, 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 thisterrible twist of fate to become a powerless, help-less burden on everyonearound 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 orprayed, she knew the painful truth her sight was never going to return. A cloud of depression hung over Susan's once optimistic spirit. Justgetting 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 wasdetermined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she neededto become independent again. Mark's military background had trained him well to deal with sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the mostdifficult 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 thecity 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 soinsecure 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 tohimself. 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, militaryuniform 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 full of papers on the aisle floor. 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'tafraid 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 aroundMark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her bestfriend. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience,and 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 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, "Whydo you say that you envy me?" The driver responded, "It must feel so good to be taken care of andprotected like you are." Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, and again asked, "What do you mean?" The driver answered, "You know, every morning for the past week, a fine looking gentlemen 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 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.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Always and Always
By Bob Perks
His soft voice floated out the door and down the hallway. If it were possible you might see wings of angels attached to every note. He wasn't the finest singer in the world, but his words of love needed only his personal interpretation.
I had been visiting a friend at the hospital when I was introduced to this wonderful man. No, not in person. But I got to know who he was through his singing.
You see every evening right before they made the announcement that visiting hours were over, this wonderful gentleman would sing to his wife.
"I'll be loving you always. With a love that's true always," he sang with a slight warble in his voice.
"Every night that I've been here, I've heard him sing that song," my friend told me. "In fact, if you notice this wing of the hospital suddenly becomes quiet at the first sound of his voice. You know how noisy hospitals can be."
"What do you know about him?" I asked.
"Nothing much. There are rumors floating around that contradict each other--that he's wealthy, that he has nothing. I do know that he's up in years, around 80, they say," he told me.
"I'd love to meet him," I said.
"I don't think visitors are permitted in that room. When I get up and walk down the hall for my daily therapy, I walk over there on purpose. Looking in, I always see the curtain pulled around," he replied. "But I'll find out what I can for you. I know how you love stories like this."
I decided to return the next night just to hear him sing again. Well, I told my friend I was really there to see him. But he would understand anyway.
Once again like clockwork, just minutes before the announcement, the singing began. It was the oddest thing. You could sense that the old gentleman was about to sing because the place quieted down in anticipation.
"I'll be loving you always. With a love that's true always. When the things you plan need a helping hand, I will understand always, oh always..."
When he'd finished and the hustle and noise of the hospital picked up, I turned to my friend and said, "It's wonderful that he comes every day to sing to his wife."
"Bob, I thought I told you. He's not visiting there. He's a patient," my friend said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. His wife is visiting him. Maybe if I hurry I catch her when she leaves. I would really love to speak with her,"
"Bob, that would be impossible. I did a little research today. You'll love this one. He's all alone down there. He sings that song for his wife who is in a nursing home. Their children live out west somewhere. She can't come to visit him. She is in an acute-care section where she is monitored all the time. She can't even talk much, so the staff where she is arranges the phone call. They visit over the phone a few minutes each night and he always ends it the same way--singing to her," he said.
"How incredible!"
We said our goodbyes, and I hurried toward the old man's room. The announcement came ending visiting hours, and one by one people started exiting the rooms. This room was near the end of the hallway. Like a little kid not wanting to be caught, I tiptoed past the nurses' station and stood looking out the window as if I were waiting for someone.
I turned and started walking toward his room, and suddenly a nurse came out.
"I'm caught!" I thought to myself. But she never looked my way. I walked up to the door, and there he was, standing with the help of a walker and looking out the window. With his back to me, he didn't see me there. I was about to make a comment in hopes that I could meet this wonderful man, when he suddenly raised his hand as if waving to someone out the window.
"Sweet dreams, my love," he said. "Sleep well, my angel. It won't be long until we are finally together for eternity. Always and always."
I couldn't say a word. I turned and left.
My friend was released from the hospital so I have not had the opportunity or reason to return. But I know in my heart that the two lovers will be fine, no matter what happens.
Because they have a love that will last "not for just an hour, not for just a day, not for just a year, but always."
His soft voice floated out the door and down the hallway. If it were possible you might see wings of angels attached to every note. He wasn't the finest singer in the world, but his words of love needed only his personal interpretation.
I had been visiting a friend at the hospital when I was introduced to this wonderful man. No, not in person. But I got to know who he was through his singing.
You see every evening right before they made the announcement that visiting hours were over, this wonderful gentleman would sing to his wife.
"I'll be loving you always. With a love that's true always," he sang with a slight warble in his voice.
"Every night that I've been here, I've heard him sing that song," my friend told me. "In fact, if you notice this wing of the hospital suddenly becomes quiet at the first sound of his voice. You know how noisy hospitals can be."
"What do you know about him?" I asked.
"Nothing much. There are rumors floating around that contradict each other--that he's wealthy, that he has nothing. I do know that he's up in years, around 80, they say," he told me.
"I'd love to meet him," I said.
"I don't think visitors are permitted in that room. When I get up and walk down the hall for my daily therapy, I walk over there on purpose. Looking in, I always see the curtain pulled around," he replied. "But I'll find out what I can for you. I know how you love stories like this."
I decided to return the next night just to hear him sing again. Well, I told my friend I was really there to see him. But he would understand anyway.
Once again like clockwork, just minutes before the announcement, the singing began. It was the oddest thing. You could sense that the old gentleman was about to sing because the place quieted down in anticipation.
"I'll be loving you always. With a love that's true always. When the things you plan need a helping hand, I will understand always, oh always..."
When he'd finished and the hustle and noise of the hospital picked up, I turned to my friend and said, "It's wonderful that he comes every day to sing to his wife."
"Bob, I thought I told you. He's not visiting there. He's a patient," my friend said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. His wife is visiting him. Maybe if I hurry I catch her when she leaves. I would really love to speak with her,"
"Bob, that would be impossible. I did a little research today. You'll love this one. He's all alone down there. He sings that song for his wife who is in a nursing home. Their children live out west somewhere. She can't come to visit him. She is in an acute-care section where she is monitored all the time. She can't even talk much, so the staff where she is arranges the phone call. They visit over the phone a few minutes each night and he always ends it the same way--singing to her," he said.
"How incredible!"
We said our goodbyes, and I hurried toward the old man's room. The announcement came ending visiting hours, and one by one people started exiting the rooms. This room was near the end of the hallway. Like a little kid not wanting to be caught, I tiptoed past the nurses' station and stood looking out the window as if I were waiting for someone.
I turned and started walking toward his room, and suddenly a nurse came out.
"I'm caught!" I thought to myself. But she never looked my way. I walked up to the door, and there he was, standing with the help of a walker and looking out the window. With his back to me, he didn't see me there. I was about to make a comment in hopes that I could meet this wonderful man, when he suddenly raised his hand as if waving to someone out the window.
"Sweet dreams, my love," he said. "Sleep well, my angel. It won't be long until we are finally together for eternity. Always and always."
I couldn't say a word. I turned and left.
My friend was released from the hospital so I have not had the opportunity or reason to return. But I know in my heart that the two lovers will be fine, no matter what happens.
Because they have a love that will last "not for just an hour, not for just a day, not for just a year, but always."
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Bridge
There was once a bridge which spanned a large river. During most of the day the bridge sat with its length running up and down the river paralleled with the banks, allowing ships to pass thru freely on both sides of the bridge. But at certain times each day, a train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river, allowing a train to cross it.
A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed. One evening as the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance thru the dimming twilight and caught sight of the trainlights. He stepped to the control and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but, to his horror, he found the locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it, causing the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.
He left the bridge turned across the river, and hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch he could hold to operate the lock manually. He would have to hold the lever back firmly as the train crossed. He could hear the rumble of the train now, and he took hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. He kept applying the pressure to keep the mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control shack, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. "Daddy, where are you?" His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first impulse was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!" But the train was too close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time. The man almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to safety.
But he realized that he could not get back to the lever. Either the people on the train or his little son must die. He took a moment to make his decision. The train sped safely and swiftly on its way, and no one aboard was even aware of the tiny broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed.
They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how their son had brutally died.
Now if you comprehend the emotions which went this man's heart, you can begin to understand the feelings of our Father in Heaven when He sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us and eternal life. Can there be any wonder that He caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His Son died? How does He feel when we speed along thru life without giving a thought to what was done for us thru Jesus Christ?
A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed. One evening as the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance thru the dimming twilight and caught sight of the trainlights. He stepped to the control and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but, to his horror, he found the locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it, causing the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.
He left the bridge turned across the river, and hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch he could hold to operate the lock manually. He would have to hold the lever back firmly as the train crossed. He could hear the rumble of the train now, and he took hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. He kept applying the pressure to keep the mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control shack, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. "Daddy, where are you?" His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first impulse was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!" But the train was too close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time. The man almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to safety.
But he realized that he could not get back to the lever. Either the people on the train or his little son must die. He took a moment to make his decision. The train sped safely and swiftly on its way, and no one aboard was even aware of the tiny broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed.
They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how their son had brutally died.
Now if you comprehend the emotions which went this man's heart, you can begin to understand the feelings of our Father in Heaven when He sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us and eternal life. Can there be any wonder that He caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His Son died? How does He feel when we speed along thru life without giving a thought to what was done for us thru Jesus Christ?
Monday, March 5, 2007
He's My Dad
To Each Staff Member of this Facility:
As you pick up that chart today and scan that green Medicaid card, I hope you will remember what I am about to say.
I spent yesterday with you. I was there with my mother and father. We didn't know where we were supposed to go or what we were supposed to do, for we had never needed your services before. We have never before been labeled charity.
I watched yesterday as my dad became a diagnosis, a chart, a case number, a charity case labeled "no sponsor" because he had no health insurance.
I saw a weak man stand in line, waiting for five hours to be shuffled through a system of impatient office workers, a burned-out nursing staff and a budget-scarce facility, being robbed of any dignity and pride he may have had left. I was amazed at how impersonal your staff was, huffing and blowing when the patient did not present the correct form, speaking carelessly of other patients' cases in front of passersby, of lunch breaks that would be spent away from this "poor man's hell."
My dad is only a green card, a file number to clutter your desk on appointment day, a patient who will ask for directions twice after they've been mechanically given the first time. But, no, that's not really my dad. That's only what you see.
What you don't see is a cabinetmaker since the age of 14, a self-employed man who has a wonderful wife, four grown kids (who visit too much), and five grandchildren (with two more on the way) - all of whom think their "pop" is the greatest. This man is everything a daddy should be - strong and firm, yet tender, rough around the edges, a country boy, yet respected by prominent business owners.
He's my dad, the man who raised me through thick and thin, gave me away as a bride, held my children at their births, stuffed a $20 bill into my hand when times were tough and comforted me when I cried. Now we are told that before long cancer will take this man away from us.
You may say these are the words of a grieving daughter lashing out in helplessness at the prospect of losing a loved one. I would not disagree. Yet I would urge you not to discount what I say. Never lose sight of the people behind your charts. Each chart represents a person - with feelings, a history, a life - whom you have the power to touch for one day by your words and actions. Tomorrow it may be your loved one - your relative or neighbor - who turns into a case number, a green card, a name to be marked off with a yellow marker as done for the day.
I pray that you will reward the next person you greet at your station with a kind word or smile because that person is someone's dad, husband, wife, mother, son, or daughter - or simply because he or she is a human being, created and loved by God, just as you are.
As you pick up that chart today and scan that green Medicaid card, I hope you will remember what I am about to say.
I spent yesterday with you. I was there with my mother and father. We didn't know where we were supposed to go or what we were supposed to do, for we had never needed your services before. We have never before been labeled charity.
I watched yesterday as my dad became a diagnosis, a chart, a case number, a charity case labeled "no sponsor" because he had no health insurance.
I saw a weak man stand in line, waiting for five hours to be shuffled through a system of impatient office workers, a burned-out nursing staff and a budget-scarce facility, being robbed of any dignity and pride he may have had left. I was amazed at how impersonal your staff was, huffing and blowing when the patient did not present the correct form, speaking carelessly of other patients' cases in front of passersby, of lunch breaks that would be spent away from this "poor man's hell."
My dad is only a green card, a file number to clutter your desk on appointment day, a patient who will ask for directions twice after they've been mechanically given the first time. But, no, that's not really my dad. That's only what you see.
What you don't see is a cabinetmaker since the age of 14, a self-employed man who has a wonderful wife, four grown kids (who visit too much), and five grandchildren (with two more on the way) - all of whom think their "pop" is the greatest. This man is everything a daddy should be - strong and firm, yet tender, rough around the edges, a country boy, yet respected by prominent business owners.
He's my dad, the man who raised me through thick and thin, gave me away as a bride, held my children at their births, stuffed a $20 bill into my hand when times were tough and comforted me when I cried. Now we are told that before long cancer will take this man away from us.
You may say these are the words of a grieving daughter lashing out in helplessness at the prospect of losing a loved one. I would not disagree. Yet I would urge you not to discount what I say. Never lose sight of the people behind your charts. Each chart represents a person - with feelings, a history, a life - whom you have the power to touch for one day by your words and actions. Tomorrow it may be your loved one - your relative or neighbor - who turns into a case number, a green card, a name to be marked off with a yellow marker as done for the day.
I pray that you will reward the next person you greet at your station with a kind word or smile because that person is someone's dad, husband, wife, mother, son, or daughter - or simply because he or she is a human being, created and loved by God, just as you are.
The Army Son
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The Circus
by Dan Clark, 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by- two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants and other acts they would see that night. One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives.
The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armor." He was smiling and basking in pride, looking at her as if to reply, "You got that right."
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, "Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus."
The ticket lady quoted the price.
The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, the man's lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?"
The ticket lady again quoted the price.
The man didn't have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?
Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!) My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket."
The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied, "Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.
Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by- two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants and other acts they would see that night. One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives.
The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armor." He was smiling and basking in pride, looking at her as if to reply, "You got that right."
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, "Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus."
The ticket lady quoted the price.
The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, the man's lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?"
The ticket lady again quoted the price.
The man didn't have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?
Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!) My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket."
The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied, "Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Roses For Mum
by: C.W. McCall, Source Unknown
A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away. As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing. He asked her what was wrong and she replied, "I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother. But I only have seventy-five cents, and a rose costs two dollars."
The man smiled and said, "Come on in with me. I'll buy you a rose." He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother's flowers. As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home. She said, "Yes, please! You can take me to my mother."
She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.
The man returned to the flower shop, cancelled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother's house.
A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away. As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing. He asked her what was wrong and she replied, "I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother. But I only have seventy-five cents, and a rose costs two dollars."
The man smiled and said, "Come on in with me. I'll buy you a rose." He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother's flowers. As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home. She said, "Yes, please! You can take me to my mother."
She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.
The man returned to the flower shop, cancelled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother's house.
The Mountain
There were two warring tribes in the Andes, one that lived in the lowlands and the other high in the mountains. The mountain people invaded the lowlanders one day, and as part of their plundering of the people, they kidnapped a baby of one of the lowlander families and took the infant with them back up into the mountains.
The lowlanders didn't know how to climb the mountain. They didn't know any of the trails that the mountain people used, and they didn't know where to find the mountain people or how to track them in the steep terrain.
Even so, they sent out their best party of fighting men to climb the mountain and bring the baby home.
The men tried first one method of climbing and then another. They tried one trail and then another. After several days of effort, however, they had climbed only several hundred feet.
Feeling hopeless and helpless, the lowlander men decided that the cause was lost, and they prepared to return to their village below.
As they were packing their gear for the descent, they saw the baby's mother walking toward them. They realized that she was coming down the mountain that they hadn't figured out how to climb.
And then they saw that she had the baby strapped to her back. How could that be?
One man greeted her and said, "We couldn't climb this mountain. How did you do this when we, the strongest and most able men in the village, couldn't do it?"
She shrugged her shoulders and said, "It wasn't your baby."
The lowlanders didn't know how to climb the mountain. They didn't know any of the trails that the mountain people used, and they didn't know where to find the mountain people or how to track them in the steep terrain.
Even so, they sent out their best party of fighting men to climb the mountain and bring the baby home.
The men tried first one method of climbing and then another. They tried one trail and then another. After several days of effort, however, they had climbed only several hundred feet.
Feeling hopeless and helpless, the lowlander men decided that the cause was lost, and they prepared to return to their village below.
As they were packing their gear for the descent, they saw the baby's mother walking toward them. They realized that she was coming down the mountain that they hadn't figured out how to climb.
And then they saw that she had the baby strapped to her back. How could that be?
One man greeted her and said, "We couldn't climb this mountain. How did you do this when we, the strongest and most able men in the village, couldn't do it?"
She shrugged her shoulders and said, "It wasn't your baby."
The Limits Of Love
by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown
After the divorce, her teenage daughter became increasingly rebellious.
It culminated late one night when the police called to tell her that she had to come to the police station to pick up her daughter, who was arrested for drunk driving.
They didn't speak until the next afternoon.
Mom broke the tension by giving her daughter a small gift-wrapped box.
Her daughter nonchalantly opened it and found a small piece of a rock.
She rolled her eyes and said, "Cute Mom, what's this for?"
"Here's the card," Mom said.
Her daughter took the card out of the envelope and read it. Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.
She got up and gave her mom a big hug as the card fell to the floor.
On the card were these words:
"This rock is more than 200 million years old. That's how long it will take before I give up on you."
After the divorce, her teenage daughter became increasingly rebellious.
It culminated late one night when the police called to tell her that she had to come to the police station to pick up her daughter, who was arrested for drunk driving.
They didn't speak until the next afternoon.
Mom broke the tension by giving her daughter a small gift-wrapped box.
Her daughter nonchalantly opened it and found a small piece of a rock.
She rolled her eyes and said, "Cute Mom, what's this for?"
"Here's the card," Mom said.
Her daughter took the card out of the envelope and read it. Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.
She got up and gave her mom a big hug as the card fell to the floor.
On the card were these words:
"This rock is more than 200 million years old. That's how long it will take before I give up on you."
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
50 Romantic Things For Your Love
1. Watch the sunset together.
2. Whisper to each other.
3. Cook for each other.
4. Walk in the rain.
5. Hold hands.
6. Buy gifts for each other.
7. Roses.
8. Find out their favorite cologne/perfume and wear it every time you're together.
9. Go for a long walk down the beach at midnight.
10. Write poetry for each other.
11. Hugs are the universal medicine.
12. Say I love you, only when you mean it and make they know you mean it.
13. Give random gifts of flowers/candy/poetry etc.
14. Tell her that she's the only girl you ever want. Don't lie.
15. Spend every second possible together.
16. Look into each others eyes.
17. Very lightly push up her chin, look into her eyes, tell her you love her, and kiss her lightly.
18. When in public, only flirt w/ each other.
19. Put love notes in their pockets when they aren't looking.
20. Buy her a ring.
21. Sing to each other.
22. Always hold her around her hips/sides.
23. Take her to dinner and do the dinner for two deal.
24. Spaghetti (Ever see Lady and the Tramp?)2
5. Hold her hand, stare into her eyes, kiss her hand and then put it over your heart.
26. Dance together.
27. I love the way a girl looks right after shes fallen asleep with her head in my lap.
28. Do cute things like write I love you in a note so that they have to look in a mirror to read it.
29. Make excuses to call them every 5 minutes
30. Even if you are really busy doing something, go out of your way to call and say I love you.
31. Call from your vacation spot to tell them you were thinking about them.
32. Remember your dreams and tell her about them.
34. Tell each other your most sacred secrets/fears.
35. Be Prince Charming to her parents. (Brownie Points)
36. Brush her hair out of her face for her.
37. Hang out with his/her friends. (more brownie points)
38. Go to church/pray/worship together.
39. Take her to see a romantic movie and remember the parts she liked.
40. Learn from each other and don't make the same mistake twice.
41. Describe the joy you feel just to be with him/her.
42. Make sacrifices for each other.
43. Really love each other, or don't stay together.
44. Let there never be a second during any given day that you aren't thinking about them, and make sure they know it.
45. Love yourself before you love anyone else.
46. Learn to say sweet things in foreign languages.
47. Dedicate songs to them on the radio.
48. Fall asleep on the phone with each other.
49. Stand up for them when someone talks trash.
50. Never forget the kiss goodnight. And always remember to say, "Sweet dreams."
2. Whisper to each other.
3. Cook for each other.
4. Walk in the rain.
5. Hold hands.
6. Buy gifts for each other.
7. Roses.
8. Find out their favorite cologne/perfume and wear it every time you're together.
9. Go for a long walk down the beach at midnight.
10. Write poetry for each other.
11. Hugs are the universal medicine.
12. Say I love you, only when you mean it and make they know you mean it.
13. Give random gifts of flowers/candy/poetry etc.
14. Tell her that she's the only girl you ever want. Don't lie.
15. Spend every second possible together.
16. Look into each others eyes.
17. Very lightly push up her chin, look into her eyes, tell her you love her, and kiss her lightly.
18. When in public, only flirt w/ each other.
19. Put love notes in their pockets when they aren't looking.
20. Buy her a ring.
21. Sing to each other.
22. Always hold her around her hips/sides.
23. Take her to dinner and do the dinner for two deal.
24. Spaghetti (Ever see Lady and the Tramp?)2
5. Hold her hand, stare into her eyes, kiss her hand and then put it over your heart.
26. Dance together.
27. I love the way a girl looks right after shes fallen asleep with her head in my lap.
28. Do cute things like write I love you in a note so that they have to look in a mirror to read it.
29. Make excuses to call them every 5 minutes
30. Even if you are really busy doing something, go out of your way to call and say I love you.
31. Call from your vacation spot to tell them you were thinking about them.
32. Remember your dreams and tell her about them.
34. Tell each other your most sacred secrets/fears.
35. Be Prince Charming to her parents. (Brownie Points)
36. Brush her hair out of her face for her.
37. Hang out with his/her friends. (more brownie points)
38. Go to church/pray/worship together.
39. Take her to see a romantic movie and remember the parts she liked.
40. Learn from each other and don't make the same mistake twice.
41. Describe the joy you feel just to be with him/her.
42. Make sacrifices for each other.
43. Really love each other, or don't stay together.
44. Let there never be a second during any given day that you aren't thinking about them, and make sure they know it.
45. Love yourself before you love anyone else.
46. Learn to say sweet things in foreign languages.
47. Dedicate songs to them on the radio.
48. Fall asleep on the phone with each other.
49. Stand up for them when someone talks trash.
50. Never forget the kiss goodnight. And always remember to say, "Sweet dreams."
Monday, February 19, 2007
If You Love Her Enough
by: Bill Walls, Source Unknown
My friend John always has something to tell me. He knows so much that young men have to have older and more worldly wise men to tell them. For instance who to trust, how to care for others, and how to live life to the fullest.
Recently, John lost his wife Janet. For eight years she fought against cancer, but in the end her sickness had the last word.
One day John took out a folded piece of paper from his wallet. He had found it, so he told me, when he tidied up some drawers at home. It was a small love letter Janet had written. The note could look like a school girl's scrawls about her dream guy. All that was missing was a drawing of a heart with the names John and Janet written in it. But the small letter was written by a woman who had had seven children; a woman who fought for her life and who probably only had a few months left to live.
It was also a beautiful recipe for how to keep a marriage together.
Janet's description of her husband begins thus: "Loved me. Took care of me. Worried about me."
Even though John always had a ready answer, he never joked about cancer apparently. Sometimes he came home in the evening to find Janet in the middle of one of those depressions cancer patients so often get. In no time he got her into the car and drove her to her favourite restaurant.
He showed consideration for her, and she knew it. You cannot hide something for someone who knows better.
"Helped me when I was ill," the next line reads. Perhaps Janet wrote this while the cancer was in one of the horrible and wonderful lulls. Where everything is -- almost -- as it used to be, before the sickness broke out, and where it doesn't hurt to hope that everything is over, maybe forever.
"Forgave me a lot."
"Stood by my side."
And a piece of good advice for everyone who looks on giving constructive criticism as a kind of sacred duty: "Always praising."
"Made sure I had everything I needed," she goes on to write.
After that she has turned over the paper and added: "Warmth. Humour. Kindness. Thougtfulness." And then she writes about the husband she has lived with and loved the most of her life: "Always there for me when I needed you."
The last words she wrote sum up all the others. I can see her for me whe she adds thoughtfully: "Good friend."
I stand beside John now, and cannot even pretend to know how it feels to lose someone who is as close to me as Janet was to him. I need to hear what he has to say much more than he needs to talk.
"John," I ask. "How do you stick together with someone through 38 years -- not to mention the sickness? How do I know if I can bear to stand by my wife's side if she becomes sick one day?"
"You can," he says quietly. "If you love her enough, you can."
My friend John always has something to tell me. He knows so much that young men have to have older and more worldly wise men to tell them. For instance who to trust, how to care for others, and how to live life to the fullest.
Recently, John lost his wife Janet. For eight years she fought against cancer, but in the end her sickness had the last word.
One day John took out a folded piece of paper from his wallet. He had found it, so he told me, when he tidied up some drawers at home. It was a small love letter Janet had written. The note could look like a school girl's scrawls about her dream guy. All that was missing was a drawing of a heart with the names John and Janet written in it. But the small letter was written by a woman who had had seven children; a woman who fought for her life and who probably only had a few months left to live.
It was also a beautiful recipe for how to keep a marriage together.
Janet's description of her husband begins thus: "Loved me. Took care of me. Worried about me."
Even though John always had a ready answer, he never joked about cancer apparently. Sometimes he came home in the evening to find Janet in the middle of one of those depressions cancer patients so often get. In no time he got her into the car and drove her to her favourite restaurant.
He showed consideration for her, and she knew it. You cannot hide something for someone who knows better.
"Helped me when I was ill," the next line reads. Perhaps Janet wrote this while the cancer was in one of the horrible and wonderful lulls. Where everything is -- almost -- as it used to be, before the sickness broke out, and where it doesn't hurt to hope that everything is over, maybe forever.
"Forgave me a lot."
"Stood by my side."
And a piece of good advice for everyone who looks on giving constructive criticism as a kind of sacred duty: "Always praising."
"Made sure I had everything I needed," she goes on to write.
After that she has turned over the paper and added: "Warmth. Humour. Kindness. Thougtfulness." And then she writes about the husband she has lived with and loved the most of her life: "Always there for me when I needed you."
The last words she wrote sum up all the others. I can see her for me whe she adds thoughtfully: "Good friend."
I stand beside John now, and cannot even pretend to know how it feels to lose someone who is as close to me as Janet was to him. I need to hear what he has to say much more than he needs to talk.
"John," I ask. "How do you stick together with someone through 38 years -- not to mention the sickness? How do I know if I can bear to stand by my wife's side if she becomes sick one day?"
"You can," he says quietly. "If you love her enough, you can."
Scorpion
by: Bill Greer, Chicken Soup for the Veteran's Soul
There was this Hindu who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. He decided to save it by stretching out his finger, but the scorpion stung him. The man still tried to get the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him again.
A man nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that kept stinging him.
But the Hindu said: "It is the nature of the scorpion to sting. It is my nature to love. Why should I give up my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?"
Don't give up loving.
Don't give up your goodness.
Even if people around you sting.
There was this Hindu who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. He decided to save it by stretching out his finger, but the scorpion stung him. The man still tried to get the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him again.
A man nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that kept stinging him.
But the Hindu said: "It is the nature of the scorpion to sting. It is my nature to love. Why should I give up my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?"
Don't give up loving.
Don't give up your goodness.
Even if people around you sting.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
What He Would Have LIked The Most
When Lou Little was coaching football at Georgetown, he had a playerwho was definitely third rate but had so much spirit he was an inspiration to the team. He rarely saw action except in the last few minutes of a game that was already decided.
One day news came that the boy's father had died. The youngster cameto Little and said: "Coach, I want to ask something of you that means an awful lot to me. I want to start the game against Fordham. I think that's what my father would have liked most."
Little hesitated a moment, then said, "Okay son, you'll start, but you'll only be in a play or two. You aren't quite good enough and you know it."
The boy started the game and played so well Little never took him out.His play inspired the team to victory.
Back in the locker room Coach Little embraced the young man andsaid: "Son, you were terrific. You never played that way before...what got into you?"
The boy answered, "Remember how my father and I used to walk around arm-in-arm? There was something about him very few people knew. He was totally blind. This afternoon was the firsttime my father ever saw me play."
-- Bits & Pieces
One day news came that the boy's father had died. The youngster cameto Little and said: "Coach, I want to ask something of you that means an awful lot to me. I want to start the game against Fordham. I think that's what my father would have liked most."
Little hesitated a moment, then said, "Okay son, you'll start, but you'll only be in a play or two. You aren't quite good enough and you know it."
The boy started the game and played so well Little never took him out.His play inspired the team to victory.
Back in the locker room Coach Little embraced the young man andsaid: "Son, you were terrific. You never played that way before...what got into you?"
The boy answered, "Remember how my father and I used to walk around arm-in-arm? There was something about him very few people knew. He was totally blind. This afternoon was the firsttime my father ever saw me play."
-- Bits & Pieces
Courage
A true story of love and courage.
Walking down a path through some woods in Georgia in 1977,I saw a water puddle ahead on the path. I angled my directionto go around it on the part of the path that wasn't covered bywater and mud. As I reached the puddle, I was suddenly attacked!
Yet, I did nothing, for the attack was so unpredictable andfrom a source so totally unexpected. I was startled as well as unhurt,despite having been struck four or five times already. I backed upa foot and my attacker stopped attacking me. Instead of attackingmore, he hovered in the air on graceful butterfly wings in front of me.
Had I been hurt I wouldn't have found it amusing, but I was unhurt,it was funny, and I was laughing. After all, I was being attacked by abutterfly!
Having stopped laughing, I took a step forward. My attackerrushed me again. He rammed me in the chest with his head and body,striking me over and over again with all his might, still to no avail.For a second time, I retreated a step while my attacker relented in hisattack. Yet again, I tried moving forward. My attacker charged meagain. I was rammed in the chest over and over again. I wasn't surewhat to do, other than to retreat a third time. After all, it's justnot everyday that one is attacked by a butterfly. This time, though,I stepped back several paces to look the situation over. My attackermoved back as well to land on the ground. That's when I discoveredwhy my attacker was charging me only moments earlier.
He had a mate and she was dying. She was beside the puddlewhere he landed. Sitting close beside her, he opened and closed hiswings as if to fan her. I could only admire the love and courage ofthat butterfly in his concern for his mate. He had taken it uponhimself to attack me for his mate's sake, even though she was clearlydying and I was so large. He did so just to give her those extra fewprecious moments of life, should I have been careless enough to stepon her.
Now I knew why and what he was fighting for. There was reallyonly one option left for me. I carefully made my way around the puddleto the other side of the path, though it was only inches wide andextremely muddy. His courage in attacking something thousands oftimes larger and heavier than himself just for his mate's safetyjustified it. I couldn't do anything other than reward him bywalking on the more difficult side of the puddle. He had truly earnedthose moments to be with her, undisturbed. I left them in peace for thoselast few moments, cleaning the mud from my boots when I laterreached my car.
Since then, I've always tried to remember the courage of thatbutterfly whenever I see huge obstacles facing me. I use thatbutterfly's courage as an inspiration and to remind myself that goodthings are worth fighting for.
Walking down a path through some woods in Georgia in 1977,I saw a water puddle ahead on the path. I angled my directionto go around it on the part of the path that wasn't covered bywater and mud. As I reached the puddle, I was suddenly attacked!
Yet, I did nothing, for the attack was so unpredictable andfrom a source so totally unexpected. I was startled as well as unhurt,despite having been struck four or five times already. I backed upa foot and my attacker stopped attacking me. Instead of attackingmore, he hovered in the air on graceful butterfly wings in front of me.
Had I been hurt I wouldn't have found it amusing, but I was unhurt,it was funny, and I was laughing. After all, I was being attacked by abutterfly!
Having stopped laughing, I took a step forward. My attackerrushed me again. He rammed me in the chest with his head and body,striking me over and over again with all his might, still to no avail.For a second time, I retreated a step while my attacker relented in hisattack. Yet again, I tried moving forward. My attacker charged meagain. I was rammed in the chest over and over again. I wasn't surewhat to do, other than to retreat a third time. After all, it's justnot everyday that one is attacked by a butterfly. This time, though,I stepped back several paces to look the situation over. My attackermoved back as well to land on the ground. That's when I discoveredwhy my attacker was charging me only moments earlier.
He had a mate and she was dying. She was beside the puddlewhere he landed. Sitting close beside her, he opened and closed hiswings as if to fan her. I could only admire the love and courage ofthat butterfly in his concern for his mate. He had taken it uponhimself to attack me for his mate's sake, even though she was clearlydying and I was so large. He did so just to give her those extra fewprecious moments of life, should I have been careless enough to stepon her.
Now I knew why and what he was fighting for. There was reallyonly one option left for me. I carefully made my way around the puddleto the other side of the path, though it was only inches wide andextremely muddy. His courage in attacking something thousands oftimes larger and heavier than himself just for his mate's safetyjustified it. I couldn't do anything other than reward him bywalking on the more difficult side of the puddle. He had truly earnedthose moments to be with her, undisturbed. I left them in peace for thoselast few moments, cleaning the mud from my boots when I laterreached my car.
Since then, I've always tried to remember the courage of thatbutterfly whenever I see huge obstacles facing me. I use thatbutterfly's courage as an inspiration and to remind myself that goodthings are worth fighting for.
Now And Beyond
On the day after Jack Benny's death in December, 1974, a single long stemmed red rose was delivered to Mary Livingstone Benny, his wife of 48 years.
When the blossoms continued to arrive, day after day, Mary called the florist to find out who sent them.
"Quite a while before Jack passed away," the florist told her, "He stopped in to send a bouquet. As he was leaving, he suddenly turned back and said, "If anything should happen to me, I want you to send Mary a single rose every day."
There was complete silence on Mary's end of the line, then weeping, she said, "Goodbye." Subsequently, Mary learned that Jack had actually included a provision for the flowers in his will, one perfect red rose daily for the rest of her life.
When the blossoms continued to arrive, day after day, Mary called the florist to find out who sent them.
"Quite a while before Jack passed away," the florist told her, "He stopped in to send a bouquet. As he was leaving, he suddenly turned back and said, "If anything should happen to me, I want you to send Mary a single rose every day."
There was complete silence on Mary's end of the line, then weeping, she said, "Goodbye." Subsequently, Mary learned that Jack had actually included a provision for the flowers in his will, one perfect red rose daily for the rest of her life.
HERO
In the wake of Chicago's worst ever winter, when all of the rooftops were loaded, many overloaded with snow....
Robert McGrath saw his wife run out to the backyard garage to fetch some boxes.
Seconds later he heard the crash!
Looking out he saw the roof of the garage had caved in. McGrath did not stop for hat or coat... He ran from the house, grabbed a snowshovel, and called out for neighbors to help.
Yelling and digging, with sweat freezing on his face -- throwing snow and pulling away boards -- he heard her voice and then saw her hand. He kept digging, throwing and pulling....
And within minutes he had his wife in his arms and was sobbing,"Are you all right? Are you all right? I thought you were hurt.Oh baby, I love you so much!"
She was fine.
What Robert McGrath did NOT know was this:
Mrs. McGrath had gone into the garage through one door and out through another. She was safe in the house when she looked out and saw her husband digging and shouting orders and throwingplanks of wood, feverishly trying to rescue her. She could not let her gallant rescuer down.
So she put her coat on again and went outside and quietly entered thegarage through the back door -- and allowed her husband to be her hero.
-- Paul Harvey, For What It's Worth
Robert McGrath saw his wife run out to the backyard garage to fetch some boxes.
Seconds later he heard the crash!
Looking out he saw the roof of the garage had caved in. McGrath did not stop for hat or coat... He ran from the house, grabbed a snowshovel, and called out for neighbors to help.
Yelling and digging, with sweat freezing on his face -- throwing snow and pulling away boards -- he heard her voice and then saw her hand. He kept digging, throwing and pulling....
And within minutes he had his wife in his arms and was sobbing,"Are you all right? Are you all right? I thought you were hurt.Oh baby, I love you so much!"
She was fine.
What Robert McGrath did NOT know was this:
Mrs. McGrath had gone into the garage through one door and out through another. She was safe in the house when she looked out and saw her husband digging and shouting orders and throwingplanks of wood, feverishly trying to rescue her. She could not let her gallant rescuer down.
So she put her coat on again and went outside and quietly entered thegarage through the back door -- and allowed her husband to be her hero.
-- Paul Harvey, For What It's Worth
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Let's Walk Through The Rain
A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence.
It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart.
We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed
up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the
sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.
The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in "Mom, let's run through the rain," she said. "What?" Mom asked.
"Let 's run through the rain!" She repeated.
"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.
This young child waited about another minute and repeated: "Mom,let's run through the rain," "We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.
"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.
"This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and
not get wet?"
"Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his
cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!"
The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes.
Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now
some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore
what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life.
A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.
"Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If
GOD let's us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said.
Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as
they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags
over their heads just in case. They got soaked.
But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.
And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.
Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions,
they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories...
So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make
memories
everyday.
To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under
heaven.
A friend sent this to me to remind me of life. Hope you enjoy it.
I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.
It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart.
We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed
up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the
sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.
The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in "Mom, let's run through the rain," she said. "What?" Mom asked.
"Let 's run through the rain!" She repeated.
"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.
This young child waited about another minute and repeated: "Mom,let's run through the rain," "We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.
"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.
"This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and
not get wet?"
"Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his
cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!"
The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes.
Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now
some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore
what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life.
A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.
"Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If
GOD let's us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said.
Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as
they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags
over their heads just in case. They got soaked.
But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.
And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.
Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions,
they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories...
So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make
memories
everyday.
To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under
heaven.
A friend sent this to me to remind me of life. Hope you enjoy it.
I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.
My Daddy
Her hair was up in a ponytail,
Her favourite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.
But her Mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.
But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school,
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats.
One by one the teacher called,
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
For a man who wasn't there.
"Where's her daddy at?"
She heard a boy call out.
"She probably doesn't have one,"
Another student dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day."
The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.
"My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him,
I'm not standing here alone.
"Cause my daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart"
With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favourite dress.
And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.
And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.
"I love my daddy very much,
He's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.
You see he was a fireman
And died just this past year
When airplanes hit the towers
And taught Americans to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
It's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.
And to her mother's amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.
"I know you're with me Daddy,"
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining bright star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.
Her favourite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.
But her Mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.
But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school,
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats.
One by one the teacher called,
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
For a man who wasn't there.
"Where's her daddy at?"
She heard a boy call out.
"She probably doesn't have one,"
Another student dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day."
The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.
"My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him,
I'm not standing here alone.
"Cause my daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart"
With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favourite dress.
And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.
And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.
"I love my daddy very much,
He's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.
You see he was a fireman
And died just this past year
When airplanes hit the towers
And taught Americans to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
It's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.
And to her mother's amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.
"I know you're with me Daddy,"
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining bright star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.
5 Lessons
Five (5) lessons to make you think about the way we treat people.
1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.
During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I
was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read
the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several
times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know
her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class
ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our
quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet
many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care,
even if all you do is smile and say "hello."
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:30 p.m. , an older African American woman was standing
on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her
car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she
decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her,
generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s. The man took her to safety,
helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked
him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise,
a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was
attached.
It read:
"Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The
rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.
Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just
before he passed away... God bless you for helping me and unselfishly
serving others."
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy
entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass
of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked.
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled is hand out of his
pocket and studied the coins in it. "Well, how much is a plain dish of
ice cream?" he inquired. By now more people were waiting for a table and the
waitress was growing impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she brusquely
replied. The little boy again counted his coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream,
" he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked
away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When
the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There,
placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies.
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left
to leave her a tip.
4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid
himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of
the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked
around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but
none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon
approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the
stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally
succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he
noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained
many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the
person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned
what many of us never understand!
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.
5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving when it counts...
Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to
know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease.
Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her
5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had
developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor
explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he
would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and
saying, "Yes I'll do it if it will save her." As the transfusion progressed, he
lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color
returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He
looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start
to die right away".
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he
was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.
1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.
During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I
was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read
the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several
times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know
her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class
ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our
quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet
many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care,
even if all you do is smile and say "hello."
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:30 p.m. , an older African American woman was standing
on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her
car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she
decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her,
generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s. The man took her to safety,
helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked
him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise,
a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was
attached.
It read:
"Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The
rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.
Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just
before he passed away... God bless you for helping me and unselfishly
serving others."
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy
entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass
of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked.
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled is hand out of his
pocket and studied the coins in it. "Well, how much is a plain dish of
ice cream?" he inquired. By now more people were waiting for a table and the
waitress was growing impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she brusquely
replied. The little boy again counted his coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream,
" he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked
away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When
the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There,
placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies.
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left
to leave her a tip.
4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid
himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of
the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked
around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but
none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon
approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the
stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally
succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he
noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained
many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the
person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned
what many of us never understand!
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.
5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving when it counts...
Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to
know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease.
Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her
5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had
developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor
explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he
would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and
saying, "Yes I'll do it if it will save her." As the transfusion progressed, he
lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color
returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He
looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start
to die right away".
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he
was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.
The Christmas Shoes
I was not able to watch the movie, but the book made me cry. Definitely one of my most favorite stories of all time...
It was almost Christmas time,
there I stood in another line.
Tryin' to buy that last gift or two,
not really in the Christmas mood.
Standing right in front of me,
was a little boy waiting anxiously.
Pacing 'round like little boys do.
And in his hands he held a pair of shoes...
His clothes were worn and old,
he was dirty from head to toe.
And when it came his time to pay,
I couldn't believe what I heard him say.
Sir, I want to buy these shoes,
for my Mama, please...
It's Christmas Eve...
and these shoes are just her size...
Could you hurry, Sir,
Daddy says there's not much time...
You see she's been sick for quite a while...
And I know these shoes,
would make her smile.
And I want her to look beautiful,
if Mama meets Jesus tonight...
He counted pennies
for what seemed like years
Then the cashier said,
"Son, there's not enough here"
He searched his pockets frantically.
Then he turned and he looked at me...
He said Mama made Christmas good at our house.
Though most years she just did without.
Tell me Sir, what am I going to do,
Somehow I've got to buy her
these Christmas shoes.
So I laid the money down,
I just had to help him out...
I'll never forget the look on his face,
when he said...
Mama's gonna look so great...
Sir, I want to buy these shoes,
for my Mama, please...
It's Christmas Eve...
and these shoes are just her size.
Could you hurry, Sir,
Daddy says there's not much time...
You see she's been sick for quite a while.
And I know these shoes,
would make her smile.
And I want her to look beautiful,
if Mama meets Jesus tonight...
I knew I'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that little boy
To remind me just what Christmas is all about...
It was almost Christmas time,
there I stood in another line.
Tryin' to buy that last gift or two,
not really in the Christmas mood.
Standing right in front of me,
was a little boy waiting anxiously.
Pacing 'round like little boys do.
And in his hands he held a pair of shoes...
His clothes were worn and old,
he was dirty from head to toe.
And when it came his time to pay,
I couldn't believe what I heard him say.
Sir, I want to buy these shoes,
for my Mama, please...
It's Christmas Eve...
and these shoes are just her size...
Could you hurry, Sir,
Daddy says there's not much time...
You see she's been sick for quite a while...
And I know these shoes,
would make her smile.
And I want her to look beautiful,
if Mama meets Jesus tonight...
He counted pennies
for what seemed like years
Then the cashier said,
"Son, there's not enough here"
He searched his pockets frantically.
Then he turned and he looked at me...
He said Mama made Christmas good at our house.
Though most years she just did without.
Tell me Sir, what am I going to do,
Somehow I've got to buy her
these Christmas shoes.
So I laid the money down,
I just had to help him out...
I'll never forget the look on his face,
when he said...
Mama's gonna look so great...
Sir, I want to buy these shoes,
for my Mama, please...
It's Christmas Eve...
and these shoes are just her size.
Could you hurry, Sir,
Daddy says there's not much time...
You see she's been sick for quite a while.
And I know these shoes,
would make her smile.
And I want her to look beautiful,
if Mama meets Jesus tonight...
I knew I'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that little boy
To remind me just what Christmas is all about...
A Celebration of Life
“She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful and life was so short.” Thinkexist.com
This blog is in celebration of life, and all the emotions that it brings us. I am really emotional, because I really love life, and I want to feel everything it has to offer me. So, to those who also cry at movies, books & songs; to those who are passionate about the colors of life...; and to those who simply want to feel... this is for you.
"What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul. " Jewish Proverb
This blog is in celebration of life, and all the emotions that it brings us. I am really emotional, because I really love life, and I want to feel everything it has to offer me. So, to those who also cry at movies, books & songs; to those who are passionate about the colors of life...; and to those who simply want to feel... this is for you.
"What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul. " Jewish Proverb
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
