Love him or hate him, he sure hits the nail on the head with this!

BILL GATES' SPEECH TO MT. WHITNEY HIGH SCHOOL in Visalia, California.

To anyone with kids of ANY age, here's some advice. Bill Gates recently gave a speech at a High School about 11 things they did not and will not learn in school. He talks about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of kids with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.

Rule 1: Life is not fair - - get used to it!

Rule 2: The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3: You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping -- they called it opportunity.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you are. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in
real life.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one. If you agree, pass it on.

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old
Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa,
And their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and
They were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family
We couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the
Euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would
Be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as
Though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's
Family surrounded him Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for
The last time, that I wondered i f he understood what was going on.

Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any
Difficulty or
confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's
Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are
Shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly,
Piped up, 'I know why.'

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next
Stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, 'People are born so that they can learn how to live a good
Life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?'
The Six-year-old continued, 'Well, dogs already know how to do that,
So they don't have to stay as long.'

So Remember:

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play
daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk

Be loyal.

Never pretend to be something you're not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle
Them gently.

Death ~ What a wonderful way to explain it.
A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, "Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side. "Very quietly, the doctor said, "I don't know."
"You don't know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the otherside?"
The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness. Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice my dog? He's never been in this room before. He didn't know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened, he sprang in without fear. I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one thing... I know my Master is there and that is enough."

One day, there was a blind man sitting on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet and a sign that read: "I am blind, please help."

A creative publicist was walking by and stopped to observe. He saw that the blind man had only a few coins in his hat. He dropped in more coins and, without asking for permission, took the sign and rewrote it.

He returned the sign to the blind man and left. That afternoon the publicist returned to the blind man and noticed that his hat was full of bills and coins.

The blind man recognized his footsteps and asked if it was he who had rewritten his sign and wanted to know what he had written on it.

The publicist responded: "Nothing that was not true. I just wrote the message a little differently." He smiled and went on his way.

The new sign read: "Today is Spring and I cannot see it."

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days. "Jack, did you hear me?" "Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over on 'his side of the fence,' as he put it," Mom told him. "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said. "He's the one who taught me carpentry," Jack said. "I wouldn't be in the business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important.... Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," he added.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture ... Jack stopped suddenly. "What's wrong, Jack?" his mom asked. "The box is gone," he said. "What box?" "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack answered.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read. Early the next day Jack retrieved the package.

The small package was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser," it read. Jack took the package out to his car and ripped it open. There inside was the gold box and an envelope.

Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside. "Upon my death, please forward this package and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the gold box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:
"Jack, thanks for our time! Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most ... was ... my time," Jack thought.

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.
"I need some time to spend with my son," Jack said. "Oh, by the way, Janet, ... thanks for your time!"

The older I get the more I realize how important the meaning of this story is!

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man.   College, girls,
career, and life itself got in the way.   In fact, Jack moved clear across
the country in pursuit of his dreams.   There, in the rush of his busy
life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to
spend with those important to him.   He was working on his future, and
nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night.   The
funeral is Wednesday."   Memories immediately flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.  "Jack, did you hear me?"    "Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you.   It's been so long since I thought of him.   I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were
doing.   He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over "his side of the
fence" as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.   "You know, Jack, after
your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's
influence in your life," she said.    "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said.   "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him.   He spent
a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be
there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word.   Jack caught the next flight to his
hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful.   He had no
children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.
The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to
see the old house next door one more time.   Standing in the doorway, Jack
paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a
leap through space and time.

The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories.  Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.   "What's
wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.  "The box is gone," he said.   "What box?" Mom asked.  "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk.   I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside.   All he'd ever tell me was “the thing I value most,” Jack said.   It was gone.   Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. 

He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.   "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep.   I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died.   Returning home from
work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox.   "Signature required on a package.   No one at home.   Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.   Early the next day Jack retrieved the package.   The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago.   The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read.   Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package.   There inside was the gold box and an envelope, Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett.
It's the thing I valued most in my life."   A small key was taped to the
letter.   His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully
unlocked the box.   There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.
Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched
the cover.   Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most...was...my time."    Jack held the watch for a few
minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next
two days.   "Why?"   Janet, his assistant asked.   "I need some time to spend with my son," he said.   "Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"
 

A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turn away because it "was too crowed."


"I can't go to Sunday School," she sobbed to the pastor as he walked by. Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed the reason and,taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Sunday school class. The child was so happy that they found room for her, that she went to bed that night thinking of the children who have no place to worship Jesus.

Some two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor tenement buildings and the parents called for the kindhearted pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final arrangements. As her poor little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump. Inside was found 57 cents and a note scribbled in childish handwriting which read, "This is to help build the little church bigger so more children can go to Sunday School. For two years she had saved for this offering of love.

When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly what he would do. Carrying this note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for the larger building.

A newspaper learned of the story and published it. It was read by a Realtor who offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so much, he offered it for 57 cents. Church members made large donations. Checks came from far and wide.

Within five years the little girl's gift had increased to $250,000.00--a huge sum for that time (near the turn of the century). Her unselfish love had paid large dividend.

When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist Church, with a seating capacity of 3,300 and Temple University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of Sunday Schoolers, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday school time.


In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russel H. Conwell, author of the book, "Acres of Diamonds" A true story, which goes to show WHAT GOD, CAN DO WITH 57 cents.

The pastor's church was called Almighty God Tabernacle.  On a Saturday night several weeks ago, this pastor was working late, and decided to call his wife before he left for home. It was about 10:00 PM, but his wife didn't answer the phone.

The pastor let it ring many times.  He thought it was odd that she didn't answer, but decided to wrap up a few things and try again in a few minutes.  When he tried again she answered right away.  He asked her why she hadn't answered before, and she said that it hadn't rung at their house.  They brushed it off as a fluke and went on their merry ways.

The following Monday, the pastor received a call at the church office, which was the phone that he'd used that Saturday night.  The man that he spoke with wanted to know why he'd called on Saturday night. The pastor couldn't figure out what the guy was talking about.   Then the guy said, "It rang and rang, but I didn't answer."  The pastor remembered the mishap and apologized for disturbing him, explaining that he'd intended to call his wife.

The man said, "That's OK.  Let me tell you my story.  You see, I was planning to commit suicide on Saturday night, but before I did, I prayed, 'God if you're there, and you don't want me to do this, give me a sign now.'  

"Slow Down Therapy"

Slow down; God is still in heaven. You are not responsible for
doing it all yourself, right now.

Remember a happy, peaceful time in your past. Rest there. Each
moment has richness that takes a lifetime to savor.

Set your own pace. When someone is pushing you, it's OK to tell
them they're pushing.

Take nothing for granted: watch water flow, the corn grow, the
leaves blow, your neighbor mow.

Taste your food. God gives it to delight as well as to nourish.

Notice the sun and the moon as they rise and set. They are
remarkable for their steady pattern of movement, not their speed.

Quit planning how you're going to use what you know, learn, or
possess. God's gifts just are; be grateful and their purpose
will be clear.

When you talk with someone, don't think about what you'll say
next. Thoughts will spring up naturally if you let them.

Talk and play with children. It will bring out the unhurried
little person inside you.

Create a place in your home...at your work...in your
heart...where you can go for quiet and recollection.
You deserve it.

Allow yourself time to be lazy and unproductive. Rest isn't
luxury; it's a necessity.

Listen to the wind blow. It carries a message of yesterday and
tomorrow-and now. NOW counts.

Rest on your laurels. They bring comfort whatever their size,
age, or condition.

Talk slower. Talk less. Don't talk. Communication isn't
measured by words.

Give yourself permission to be late sometimes. Life is for
living, not scheduling.

Listen to the song of a bird; the complete song. Music and
nature are gifts, but only if you are willing to receive them.

Take time just to think. Action is good and necessary, but it's
fruitful only if we muse, ponder, and mull.

Make time for play-the things you like to do. Whatever your age,
your inner child needs re-creation.

Watch and listen to the night sky. It speaks.

Listen to the words you speak, especially in prayer.

Learn to stand back and let others take their turn as
leaders. There will always be new opportunities for you to
step out in front again.

Divide big jobs into little jobs. If God took six days to create
the universe, can you hope to do any better?

When you find yourself rushing and anxious, stop. Ask yourself
"WHY?" you are rushing and anxious. The reasons may improve your
self-understanding.

Take time to read the Bible. Thoughtful reading is enriching
reading.

Direct your life with purposeful choices, not with speed
and efficiency. The best musician is one who plays with
expression and meaning, not the one who finishes first.

Take a day off alone; make a retreat. You can learn from monks
and hermits without becoming one.

Pet a furry friend. You will give and get the gift of now.

Work with your hands. It frees the mind.

Take time to wonder. Without wonder, life is merely existence.

Sit in the dark. It will teach you to see and hear, taste and
smell.

Once in a while, turn down the lights, the volume, the throttle,
the invitations. Less really can be more.

Let go. Nothing is usually the hardest thing to do - but often
it is the best.

Take a walk-but don't go anywhere. If you walk just to get
somewhere, you sacrifice the walking.

Count your friends. If you have one, you are lucky. If you have
more, you are blessed. Bless them in return.

Count your blessings - one at a time and slow

One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife

Entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia. Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get some shelter for the night.

"Could you possibly give us a room here?" The husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town. "All of our rooms are taken, "the clerk said. "but I can't send a nice couple like you out in the rain at one o'clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It's not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night."

When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. "Don't worry about me; I'll make out just fine," the clerk told them. So the couple agreed. As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, "You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I'll build one for you." The clerk looked at couple and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh.

As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are friendly and helpful isn't easy.

Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled the stormy night and enclosed was a round-trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.

The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky. "That, "said the older man, "is the hotel I have just built for you to manage."

"You must be joking," the young man said.

"I can assure you that I am not, "said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.

The old man's name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Boldt. This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world's most glamorous hotels.

Family

I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" was my reply.
He said, "Please excuse me, too;
I wasn't really watching for you."



We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said good-bye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.



Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.



He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake that night in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,



"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the children you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.



Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
You never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."



By this time, I was feeling very small,
And then my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.



"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."



I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay.
I love you anyway."



I said, "Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers,
especially the blue."

An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, were spending a day at the zoo. Soon they joined lots of other children who were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist.
"You've got so many freckles, there's no place to paint!" said a little girl who was standing in line in front of the grandson. Embarrassed, the grandson dropped his head.

His grandmother felt a surge of compassion for her grandson, and knelt down next to him. "I love your freckles," she said. "When I was a little girl I always wanted freckles." Tenderly she traced her finger across her grandson's cheek. "Freckles are beautiful!"

The grandson looked up, a ray of hope in his eyes. "Really?" he asked.

"Of course!" said the grandmother. "Why, just name me one thing that's prettier than freckles."

The grandson thought for a moment, peering intensely into his grandma's face. Softly he replied back, "Wrinkles."

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.

There will be no more Sunrises, No minutes, hours or days. All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance. It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear. So too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won't matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.

it won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant. Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? how will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought but what you built, not what you got but what you gave.

What will matter is not your Success but you significance.

What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage, or sacrifices that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.

What will matter is not your memories but the memories that live in those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident. It's not a matter of circumstance but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study.

The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice.
The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"After

service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message.

Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God...If you still speak to
people speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.
He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.
But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.
The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.

"Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street , he again felt the urge, "Turn Down that street."

This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street .

At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will".

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in semi commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.


Again, he sensed something, "Go and
give the milk to the people in the
house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.


"Lord, this is insane.Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.
Finally, he opened the door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."
He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away.The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he ust got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too

happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. "What is it?"
The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, "Here, I brought this to you." The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.

Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby.The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money.

We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk."

His wife in the kitchen yelled out,
"I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?"

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face

Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?
The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come. When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.

The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm to lift it higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm.

When the storms of life come upon us - and all of us will experience them - we can rise above them by setting our minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have to overcome us. We can allow God's power to lift us above them.

God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment in our lives. We can soar above the storm.

Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down, it is how we handle them.

Today is here. I will start with a smile, and resolve to be agreeable. I will not criticize. I refuse to waste my valuable time.

Today has one thing in which I know I am equal with others—Time. All of us draw the same salary in seconds, minutes, hours—24 Golden Hours each day.

Today I will not waste my time, because the minutes I wasted yesterday are as lost as a vanished thought.

Today I refuse to spend time worrying about what might happen. I am going to spend my time making things happen.

Today I am determined to study to improve myself, for tomorrow I may be wanted, and I must not be found lacking.

Today I am determined to do things I should do. I firmly resolve to stop doing the things I should not do.

Today I begin by doing and not wasting my time. In one week I will be miles beyond the person I am today.

Today I will not imagine what I would do if things were different. They are not different. I will make a success with what material I have.

Today I will stop saying, “If I had time,” for I never will “find time” for anything—if I want time I must take it.

Today I will act toward other people as though this might be my last day on earth. I will not wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow never comes.

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee..

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in fron t of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightl y. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—God, your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.

The sand i s everything else—the small stuff. “If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first—the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students r aised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation.
They talked about so many things and various subjects.
When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists."

"Why do you say that?" asked the customer.
"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist.
Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children?
If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving a God who would allow all of these things."

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument.
The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and un-kept.

The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."

"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber.

"I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"
"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did,there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside."

"Ah, but barbers DO exist! What happens is, people do not come to me."
"Exactly!"- affirmed the customer. "That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! What happens, is,
people don't go to Him and do not look for Him. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world."

There was a man who had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn not to judge things too

quickly. So he sent them each on a quest, in turn, to go and look at a pear tree that was

a great distance away.

The first son went in the winter, the second in the spring, the third in
summer, and the youngest son in the fall

When they had all gone and come back, he called them together to describe what they

had seen. The first son said that the tree was ugly, bent, and twisted.

The second son said no it was covered with green buds and full of promise.

The third son disagreed; he said it was laden with blossoms that smelled so sweet and

looked so beautiful, it was the most graceful thing he had ever seen.

The last son disagreed with all of them; he said it was ripe and drooping with fruit,

full of life and fulfillment.
The man then explained to his sons that they were all right, because they had each seen

but only one season in the tree's life.

He told them that you cannot judge a tree, or a person, by only one season, and that

the essence of who they are and the pleasure, joy, and love that come from that life

can only be measured at he end, when all the seasons are up.

If you give up when it's winter, you will miss the promise of your spring, the beauty

of your summer, fulfillment of your fall.

Moral:

Don't let the pain of one season destroy the joy of all the rest.
Don't judge life by one difficult season.
Persevere through the difficult patches and better times are sure to come some time

or later.

The Problem With Dandelions

 A man who took great pride in his lawn found himself with a large crop of dandelions. He tried every method he knew to get rid of them. Still they plagued him.

Finally he wrote to the Department of Agriculture. He listed all the things he had tried and ended his letter with the question "What shall I do now?"

In due course, a reply came - "We suggest you learn to love them."

This story is about a beautiful, expensively dressed lady who complained to her psychiatrist that she felt that her whole life was empty; it had no meaning.

So the counsellor called over the old lady who cleaned the office floors, and then said to the rich lady, "I'm going to ask Mary here to tell you how she found happiness. All I want you to do is listen."

So the old lady put down her broom and sat on a chair and told her story: "Well, my husband died of malaria and three months later my only son was killed by a car. I had nobody... I had nothing left. I could'nt sleep; I couldn't eat; I never smiled at anyone, I even thought of taking my own life. Then one evening a little kitten followed me home from work. Somehow I felt sorry for that kitten. It was cold outside, so I decided to let the kitten in. I got it some milk, and it licked the plate clean. Then it purred and rubbed against my leg, and for the first time in months, I smiled. Then I stopped to think; if helping a little kitten could make me smile, maybe doing something for people could make me happy. So the next day I baked some biscuits and took them to a neighbour who was sick in bed. Every day I tried to do something nice for someone. It made me so happy to see them happy. Today, I don't know of anybody who sleeps and eats better than I do. I've found happiness, by giving it to others."

When she heard that, the rich lady cried. She had everything that money could buy, but she had lost the things which money cannot buy.

The Butterfly
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 through the small opening of the cocoon are God's way of forcing fluid from 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.

Touching words from the mouth of babes. A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:



"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."

Rebecca- age 8


"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."

Billy - age 4


"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."

Karl - age 5


"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."

Chrissy - age 6


"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

Terri - age 4


"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."

Danny - age 7


"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"

Emily - age 8


"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."

Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)


"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"

Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)


"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

Noelle - age 7


"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."

Tommy - age 6


"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.

He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."

Cindy - age 8


"My mommy loves me more than anybody
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."

Clare - age 6


"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."

Elaine-age 5


"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."

Chris - age 7


"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."

Mary Ann - age 4


"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."

Lauren - age 4


"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)

Karen - age 7


"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."

Mark - age 6


"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."

Jessica - age 8


And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.

The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.

Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,

"Nothing, I just helped him cry"

Angels Explained by Children

I only know the names of two angels. Hark and Harold. -- Gregory, 5

Everybody's got it all wrong. Angels don't wear halos anymore. I forget why but scientists are working on it. -- Olive, 9

It's not easy to become an angel! First, you die. Then you go to
heaven, then there's still the flight training to go through. And then you got to agree to wear those angel clothes. -- Matthew, 9

Angels work for God and watch over kids when God has to go do something else. -- Mitchell, 7

My guardian angel helps me with math, but he's not much good for science. --Henry, 8

Angels don't eat, but they drink milk from Holy Cows. -- Jack, 6

Angels talk all the way while they're flying you up to heaven. The
main subject is where you went wrong before you got dead. -- Daniel, 9

When an angel gets mad, he takes a deep breath and counts to ten. And when he lets out his breath, somewhere there's a tornado -- Reagan, 10

Angels have a lot to do and they keep very busy. If you lose a tooth, an angel comes in through your window and leaves money under your pillow. Then
when it gets cold, angels go north for the winter. -- Sara, 6

Angels live in cloud houses made by God and his son, who's a very good carpenter. -- Jared , 8

All angels are girls because they gotta wear dresses and boys didn't
go for it. -- Antonio, 9

My angel is my grandma who died last year. She got a big head start on
helping me while she was still down here on earth. -- Katelynn, 9

Some of the angels are in charge of helping heal sick animals and
pets. And if they don't make the animals get better, they help the child get
over it. -- Vicki, 8

What I don't get about angels is why, when someone is in love, they
shoot arrows at them. --Tommy, 8

Angels help God sort out all the messages he gets every Sunday
morning. ---Phil, 9

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.

Charlie Brown was a B-17 Flying Fortress pilot with the 379th Bomber Group at
Kimbolton , England
. His B-17 was called 'Ye Old Pub' and was in a terrible state, having been hit
by flak and fighters. The compass was damaged and they were flying deeper over
enemy territory instead of heading home to Kimbolton.
After flying over an enemy airfield, a German pilot named Franz Steigler was
ordered to take off and shoot down the B-17. When he got near the B-17, he
could not believe his eyes. In his words, he 'had never seen a plane in such a
bad state'. The tail and rear section was severely damaged, and the tail gunner
wounded. The top gunner was all over the top of the fuselage. The nose was
smashed and there were holes everywhere .
Despite having ammunition, Franz flew to the side of the B-17 and looked at
Charlie Brown, the pilot. Brown was scared and struggling to control his
damaged and blood-stained plane.
Aware that they had no idea where they were going, Franz waved at Charlie to
turn 180 degrees. Franz escorted and guided the stricken plane to and slightly
over the North Sea towards England He then saluted Charlie Brown and turned
away, back to Europe.
When Franz landed he told the C/O that the plane had been shot down over the
sea, and never told the truth to anybody. Charlie Brown and the remains of his
crew told all at their briefing, but were ordered never to talk about it.
More than 40 years later, Charlie Brown wanted to find the Luftwaffe pilot who
saved the crew. After years of research, Franz was found. He had never talked
about the inci dent, not even at post-war reunions.
They met in th e USA
at a 379th. Bomber Group reunion, together with 25 people who are alive now -
all because Franz never fired his guns that day.

The Grocery List

Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store. She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries. She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food.

John Longhouse, the grocer, scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store.

Visualizing the family needs, she said: "Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can."

John told her he could not give her credit, as she did not have a charge account at his store.

Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family.

The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery list?"

Louise replied, "Yes sir"

"O.K." he said, "put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries."

Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.

The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down.

The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't believe it."

The customer smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more. The grocer stood there in utter disgust. Ê

Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement. It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer which said:

"Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands."

The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and stood in stunned silence. Louise thanked him and left the store. The customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said, "It was worth every penny of it."

It was some time later that the grocer discovered the scales were broken; therefore, only God knows how much a prayer weighs.
Have a blessed day!

Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: "How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?"

The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it."

Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?"

The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university."

Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good-bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair.

"Would you like a lock of his hair?" the nurse asked.

Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally. The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else. "I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom." She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could."

Sally walked out of Children's mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car. The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room. She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Laying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:

"Dear Mom, I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say I LOVE YOU. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know. Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good-bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him 'Where was He when I needed him?' "God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.

Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm, sure the food will be great.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that?

Signed with Love from: God, Jesus &Me.

Maybe God Wants



Maybe God wants us to meet a few

wrong people before meeting the

right one so that when we finally

meet the right person, we will know

how to be grateful for that gift.



When the door of happiness closes,

another opens, but often times we look

so long at the closed door that we don’t

see the one which has been opened for us.



The best kind of friend is the kind you can

sit on a porch swing with, never say a word,

and then walk away feeling like it was the best

conversation you’ve ever had.



It’s true that we don’t know what we’ve got

until we lose it, but it’s also true that we don’t

know what we’ve been missing until it arrives.



Don’t go for looks; they can deceive.

Don’t go for wealth; even that fades away.

Go for someone who makes you smile

Because it takes only a smile to make a dark

day seem bright.

Find the one that makes your heart smile.



May you have enough happiness to make you sweet,

enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow

to keep you human, enough hope to make you happy.



Always put yourself in others’ shoes.

If you feel that it hurts you,

it probably hurts the other person too.



The happiest of people don’t necessarily have

the best of everything;

they just make the most of everything that

comes along their way.



When you were born, you were crying and

everyone around you were smiling.

Live your life so that when you die,

you’re the one smiling and everyone around you is crying.

A Native American and his friend were in downtown New York City, walking near Times Square in Manhattan. It was during the noon lunch hour and the streets were filled with people. Cars were honking their horns, taxicabs were squealing around corners, sirens were wailing, and the sounds of the city were almost deafening. Suddenly, the Native American said, "I hear a cricket."

His friend said, "What? You must be crazy. You couldn't possibly hear a cricket in all of this noise!"

"No, I'm sure of it," the Native American said, "I heard a cricket."

"That's crazy," said the friend.

The Native American listened carefully for a moment, and then walked across the street to a big cement planter where some shrubs were growing. He looked into the bushes, beneath the branches, and sure enough, he located a small cricket. His friend was utterly amazed.

"That's incredible," said his friend. "You must have super-human ears!"

"No," said the Native American. "My ears are no different from yours. It all depends on what you're listening for."

"But that can't be!" said the friend. "I could never hear a cricket in this noise."

"Yes, it's true," came the reply. "It depends on what is really important to you. Here, let me show you."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and discreetly dropped them on the sidewalk. And then, with the noise of the crowded street still blaring in their ears, they noticed every head within twenty feet turn and look to see if the money that tinkled on the pavement was theirs.

"See what I mean?" asked the Native American. "It all depends on what's important to you."

I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease.
All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer.
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They'd laugh at me I'd fear.
No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die.
I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God held a book,
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
"Your name I cannot find,
I once was going to write it down...
But never found the time."

Friends answer your needs before their own.
You come to them with your hunger,
And they satisfy you with peace.
That's how friends are.

Friends let you speak your mind,
Without worrying what their thoughts will be.
Friends know when you are silent,
They need to listen your heart.

Friends share the joy and the pain.
They know about desire and rejection.
Friends allow you to be who you are,
Without expectations of who you should be.

Friends don't come with a purpose,
They don't come with a plan.
They come to enlighten your spirit,
They come to brighten your heart.

They come to give you a hand when needed
And expect nothing in return.
It is the little things that friends do.
Like fill your heart with pleasure, hope and joy.

AAHH... The Sweetness Of Friendsip
There can be no price placed on Friendship
It has once been told.
For Friendships are worth far more than gold.

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round? Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever follow a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading 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'd 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'd 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 is like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life is not a race do take it slower.
Hear the music before the song is over.

Tess was a precocious eight years old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor bills and their house. Only a very costly surgery could save her little brother, with nowhere to borrow the money from. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. Then, placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too intently talking to another man to be bothered by an eight year old at the moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffling noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked, annoyed. "I'm talking to my brother here, whom I haven't seen in ages," he said, without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ... and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. How much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. Sorry, but I can't help you." the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs a operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money." "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered. barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents -- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took her money in one hand, and, with the other, grasped her and said, "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."

Well, that well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a renowned neurosurgeon. The operation was completed without charge. It wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were joyously discussing the chain of events that led to this moment. "The surgery," her mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.

There's a story told about an elderly lady in Arkansas. The state voted to increase welfare payments to indigents. Hoping for a tear-jerker story, a television interviewer went into the back hills where many welfare recipients lived.

The old woman he chose to interview lived in a one-room shack: draughty in winter; stifling in summer. Her bed was a few rough planks nailed together, with a pine-needle mattress. A couple thin blankets, and a fireplace, did little to protect her from the cold.

Her furniture, a table and two chairs, were fashioned from the same rough wood as her bed. Some shelves held a few cans of food from the general store, a three mile walk down the road. Several jars of preserves and a few squash completed her larder.

She had no fridge or freezer. The fireplace provided heat for cooking. With no phone or television her only connection with the outside world was an old radio that pulled in two or three local stations on a good day.

The old woman had one convenience, running water. A crystal clear stream gurgled a short distance behind her home.

A small garden near her back door provided fresh vegetables during the summer, and some squash and turnips for the winter. A tidy flower garden brightened the front of her house.

The television crew arrived and set up their big expensive cameras. Their mobile station broadcast pictures of the woman and the place she called home.

Eventually the interviewer asked the old woman, "If the government gave you $200 more each month, what would you do with it?"

Without hesitation the woman replied, "I'd give it to the poor."

When our second child was born, Jim and I thought she was perfect, but the doctor pointed out that her feet were turned inward. "Left uncorrected, it would be a problem," he told us.

We vowed to do anything we could to help our baby. When only two weeks old, I brought her back to the doctor, just as he had directed, and the doctor put her tiny feet into casts, her precious baby toes just barely visible. Because she was growing, I had to take her back to the doctor every two weeks to have each foot recast.

Eventually the casting was finished and it was time for corrective shoes and bars. Jim and I watched with hope and concern as she struggled to walk. Those first, awkward steps made us so proud. By the time she entered preschool, her steps appeared quite normal. Encouraged by her progress, we looked for something else to help strengthen her lower body.

As it turned out, she loved the ice!

When she turned six, we enrolled her in skating lessons and soon she was gliding like a swan. We watched in wonderment as she skimmed the ice. She wasn't the fastest nor the most coordinated skater. She had to work hard at every new movement, but she loved the ice and her dedication paid off. At fifteen, she competed in both pairs-skating and the ladies' singles at the 1988 World Junior Championships in Australia, winning both events! At the senior World Championships in 1991, she won the ladies' singles. Then we found ourselves filled with love and admiration in France, at the 1992 Winter Olympics, as our daughter, Kristi Yamaguchi won the gold medal.

John 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, John 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 and asked him, "I don't get it!
You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?"
He replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, 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's not that easy," I protested.
"Yes, it is," he 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 affect your mood.
You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live your life."
I reflected on what he said. Soon hereafter, 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 he was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower.
After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, he was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.
I saw him 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 I 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," he 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.
He 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 faces 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 John.
"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."
He 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.

I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for everyone to hurry and stow their carry ons and grab a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a long and uneventful flight home. With the huge capacity and slow moving people taking their time to stuff luggage far too big for the overhead and never paying much attention to holding up the growing line behind them, I
simply shook my head knowing that this flight was not starting out very well and although I had a great bunch of meetings while conducting business on this trip, it was quickly becoming tarnished with these delays in my getting home to my
loved one whom I had not seen in several days.

The meetings although fruitful were long and I had not slept well, not to mention those blasted new dress shoes that rubbed a blister on my heel. I was pretty focused on "my" issues and just felt like standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to get their act together and focus on taking their seats. Knowing I couldn't say anything that would really help, I just thumbed thru the sky mall widget magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting rough when you resort to the over priced and mostly useless sky mall crap to break the monotony and inconvenience of the trouble "I" was going thru. With everyone finally on board and seated, we just sat there with the cabin door open and seemingly no one in any hurry to get us going even though we were well past our scheduled take off time. The paper work had not yet come in to the flight deck, the attendants just stood around talking. No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told myself. Don!
't they realize we have some place we are supposed to be? We should be treated with more importance, after all we are the customers, right?

Just then, the attendant came on the intercom to inform us all "that we were being delayed"...as she paused, the entire plane let out a collective groan. She resumed her announcement, 'we are holding the aircraft for some very special people who are on their way to the plane and that the delay should not be more than five more minutes. Their connecting flight had
traveled a long way and we would get underway just as soon as possible."

Now, I have had this happen to me before and more often than not, I had to catch the next flight or even go to another carrier to get to my destination. Still, I was grateful for the times when they waited for me, so I thought that I would go back to my sky mall pages and try to forget just how much "I" was being inconvenienced.

As the word came from a scrambling attendant down the connecting tunnel to the main cabin door I thought that maybe she had some information that would let us know why we had been sitting there for over 30 minutes!! Had someone finally given word that after waiting six times as long as we were first promised that "I" was finally going to be on my way home? Why the hoopla over these folks? Just get their butts in a seat and lets hit the gas, I thought to myself.

After a few minutes we were all "locked on" when the attendant came back on the speaker, semi expecting some celebrity or sport figure to be announced as the reason the aircraft was delayed so long. I thought who cares, let's go! She announced in a loud and excited voice that we were being joined by several United States Marines returning home from Iraq!!!!

Just as they walked onboard the entire plane erupted into applause. The Men were a bit taken by the surprise of the 340+ people cheering for them as they searched for their seats. It didn't stop, they were having their hands shook and touched by almost everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as they tried to push thru the aisles. Whistles, cheering, an occasional "oorrahh", one elderly woman kissed the hand of one of the Marines as he passed by her, and the applause didn't stop for a long time as they continued toward the back of the aircraft.

When we finally got air born I am sure I was not the only civilian checking his conscious as to the "delays" in me getting home from my "hard business meetings", finding my easy chair and remote, a cold beverage, and tending to my blister". In fact I felt pretty stupid as I am sure many did. After what these Men had done for all of us, and I had been complaining silently about "me" and "my issues"? It sure made me realize that as much as I told myself that I didn't take for granted some of the everyday freedoms I enjoy and the conveniences of the American way of life and that it sometimes seems like a personal attack on one of us when things don't go exactly right...I was doing exactly that.
I
was taking it for granted. I took it for granted when others who had really paid the price for my ability to moan and complain (even if it was just to myself)...let alone a few minutes delay to me so that those HEROES could go home to their loved ones. I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order and minutes before we landed I suggested to the attendant that she announced over the speaker a request for everyone to remain in their seats until our Hero's were allowed to gather their things and be first off the plane. The cheers and applause continued until the last Marine stepped off and we all rose to go about our too often taken for granted everyday freedoms.... I felt Proud of Them. I felt it an Honor and a privilege to be among the first to welcome them home and say Thank You for a job well done.

I vowed that I will never forget that flight nor the lesson learned. I have said it before but I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those VETERANS and ACTIVE SERVICEMEN AND WOMEN who may read this, and a prayer everyday for those who cannot because they are no longer with us. GOD BLESS AMERICA

To love and to lose is one of the biggest tragedies in life, yet one fails to see the blessing in the loss. We lose for many reasons - a death, a divorce, a broken friendship and the end of a relationship. In that moment, we feel our life has come to an end. How are we to go on? A piece of your soul is taken leaving an empty hole in your heart.
The question of "why me" repeats in your mind but as the beauty of time progresses, we see the answer. Loss makes us stronger and wiser. A loss helps us to appreciate even the smallest, insignificant things in life. Our hearts become softer and full of even more love than we had to begin with. A loss helps us to see that we can't do it alone, that we need faith and hope to get us through. We learn the mercy and grace of God.
When the grieving and the healing have taken their course, we are renewed, ready to begin a new chapter in our lives with a whole new outlook and attitude. Only then are we able to appreciate the lesson learned through that loss. One never forgets those we lost, but we do learn to let go.
We learn to keep living even though we don't want to. We learn to treasure each moment and each person. In turn, losses make our lives a lot richer.
To love and lose is a tragedy, but it's not the end of our lives. It's part of our journey!

I read recently the story of a 10-year-old boy who decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.

The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn't understand why, after three months of training, the master had taught him only one move.

"Sensei," the boy finally said, "Shouldn't I be learning more moves?"

"This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you'll ever need to know," the sensei replied. Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training.

Several months later, the sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals. This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the sensei intervened. "No," the sensei insisted, "Let him continue."

Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.

On the way home, the boy and the sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind: "Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?"

"You won for two reasons," the sensei answered. "First, you've almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm."

The boy's biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.

A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking.
He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right
off he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his
car, his hands, and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw
that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if
it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of
beauty.

Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot
of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer
sun's beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has
turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind
of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.

That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there,
gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber
to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the
road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of
standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that
can produce beautiful barn wood.

It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the
inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too... and
learn a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the
Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using
the hard wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy
seasons, to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing
else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want
life easy!

They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich
man's house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to
take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.

And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been
through here... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's
house.

GRANDMA'S HANDS

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.

When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear voice strong.

'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her.

'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked. 'I mean really looked at your hands?'

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

'They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life..

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.'

The Cab Ride

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One night I had a fare at 2:30am. When I arrived to collect, 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 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's 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, 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 I 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 rear-view 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 warehousethat 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 our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware ~ beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID OR WHAT YOU SAID BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

SCHOOL 1957 vs. 2007


 Scenario: Jack goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.
1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.
2007 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

Scenario: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.
1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.
2007 - Police called, SWAT team arrives, arrests Johnny and Mark. Charge them with assault, both expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario: Jeffrey won't be still in class, disrupts other students.
1957 - Jeffrey sent to office and given a good paddling by the Principal. Returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.
2007 - Jeffrey given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADD. School gets extra money from state because Jeffrey has a disability.

Scenario: Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.
2007 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy removed to foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist tells Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has affair with psychologist.

Scenario: Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.
1957 - Mark shares aspirin with Principal out on the smoking dock.
2007 - Police called, Mark expelled from school for drug violations. Car searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario: Pedro fails high school English.
1957 - Pedro goes to summer school, passes English, goes to college.
2007 - Pedro's cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against state school system and Pedro's English teacher. English banned from core curriculum. Pedro given diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle, blows up a red ant bed.
1957 - Ants die.
2007 - BATF, Homeland Security, FBI called. Johnny charged with domestic terrorism, FBI investigates parents, siblings removed from home, computers confiscated, Johnny's Dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario: Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.
1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.
2007 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.

Handwriting on the Wall


A weary mother returned from the store,
Lugging groceries through the kitchen door.
Awaiting her arrival was her 8 year old son,
Anxious to relate what his younger brother had done.

"While I was out playing and Dad was on a call,
T.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall!
It's on the new paper you just hung in the den.
I told him you'd be mad at having to do it again."

She let out a moan and furrowed her brow,
"Where is your little brother right now?"
She emptied her arms and with a purposeful stride,
She marched to his closet where he had gone to hide.

She called his full name as she entered his room.
He trembled with fear - he knew that meant doom!
For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved
About the expensive wallpaper and how she had saved.

Lamenting all the work it would take to repair,
She condemned his actions and total lack of care.
The more she scolded, the madder she got,
Then stomped from his room, totally distraught!

She headed for the den to confirm her fears.
When she saw the wall, her eyes flooded with tears.
The message she read pierced her soul with a dart.
It said, "I love Mommy," surrounded by a heart.

Well, the wallpaper remained, just as she found it,
With an empty picture frame hung to surround it.
A reminder to her, and indeed to all,

Take time to read the handwriting on the wall.

The San Francisco Chronicle ran a story on December 15, 2005 that is being circulated on the Internet about a female humpback whale who had become entangled in a spider web of crab traps and lines. She was weighted down by hundreds of pounds of traps that caused her to struggle to stay afloat. She had hundreds of yards of line (rope) wrapped around her body - her tail, her torso, and even a line tugging in her mouth. A fisherman spotted her just east of the Farralone Islands and radioed an environmental group for help. Within a few hours the rescue team arrived and determined that she was so bad off, the only way to save her was to dive in and untangle her - a very dangerous proposition; one slap of the tail could kill a few rescuers. They worked for hours with curved knives and eventually freed her. When she was free, the divers say she swam in what seemed like joyous circles. She then came back to each and every diver, one at a time, and nudged them, pushed them gently around - she thanked them...some say it was the most incredibly beautiful experience of their lives. They guy who cut the rope out of her mouth says her eye was following him the whole time, and he will never be the same.

Political Spin
Judy Wallman, a professional genealogical researcher, discovered that Hillary Clinton 's great-great uncle, Remus Rodham, was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Montana in 1889.

The only known photograph of Remus shows him standing on the gallows. On the back of the picture is this inscription: 'Remus Rodham; horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison 1885, escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged in 1889.'

Judy e-mailed Hillary Clinton for comments. Hillary's staff of professional image adjusters sent back the following biographical sketch: "Remus Rodham was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory . His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to service at a government facility, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889, Remus passed away during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform upon which he was standing collapsed.'

When I meditated on the word GUIDANCE, I kept seeing “dance” at the end of the word. I remember reading that doing God’s will is a lot like dancing. When two people try to lead, nothing feels right. The movement doesn’t flow with the music, and everything is quite uncomfortable and jerky. When one person realizes that, and lets the other lead, both bodies begin to flow with the music.

One gives gentle cues, perhaps with a nudge to the back or by
pressing lightly in one direction or another. It’s as if two become one body, moving beautifully. The dance takes surrender, willingness, and attentiveness from one person and gentle guidance and skill from the other.

My eyes drew back to the word GUIDANCE. When I saw “G,” I thought of God, followed by “u” and “i.” “God, “u”
and “i” dance.” God, you, and I dance. As I lowered my head, I became willing to trust that I would get guidance about my life.
Once again, I became willing to let God lead.

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."

1. I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.

2. No man or woman is worth your tears, & the one who is, won't make you cry.

3. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

4. A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand & touches your heart.

5. The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can' t have them.

6. Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.

7 . To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

8. Don't waste your time on someone, who isn't willing to waste their time on you.

9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.

10. Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.

11. There's always going to be people that hurt you so what you have to do is keep on trusting & just be more careful about who you trust next time around.

12. Make yourself a better person & know who you are before you try & know someone else & expect them to know you.

13. Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.

REMEMBER: WHATEVER HAPPENS, HAPPENS FOR A REASON

Love
I love you not because of who you are, but
because of who I am when I am with you.

No man or woman is worth your tears, and
the one who is, won't make you cry.

Just because someone doesn't love you the way
you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love
you with all they have.

A true friend is someone who reaches for your
hand and touches your heart.

The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right