Excerpt from Heart of a Teacher

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, he had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving. "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much in nineth grade as he had in third. One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand.

So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend." That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone! I didn't know others liked me so much." No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip, the weather, my experiences in general. There was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is." Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, "Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me." The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. I keep it in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists." That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, tell the people you love and care for that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

Take a moment today to show gratitude to the teachers who have made a difference in your life. 

- By Paula Fox

The Mousetrap

A little mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package. "What food might this contain?" the mouse wondered. He was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, "Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The pig sympathized, but said, "I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured you are in my prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow and said, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!" The cow said, "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap alone. That very night a sound was heard throughout the house — like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey.

The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught. The snake lunged and bit the farmer's wife on her foot.

The farmer rushed her to the hospital, and she returned home with a fever. Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient.

But his dear wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock. To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.

The farmer's wife did not get well; she died. So many people came for her funeral that the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for them to eat.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall and sighed with great sadness...

Moral :

So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and you think it doesn't concern you, remember that when one of us is threatened, we are ALL at risk ... we are all involved in this journey called life. We must keep an eye out for other folks and make an extra effort to encourage one another.

Small Change Can Make A Big Change

I was in the line at Dunkin Donuts.  The couple in front of me had ordered their food and stepped to the side. I proceeded to order mine. Quick and simple. Then I noticed a young man. I could tell was not having the best of luck and it showed on his face.

He walked in carrying his belongings in a torn plastic bag. The couple ahead of me turned, looked, then turned away. The lady grabbed her purse tighter and her husband quickly stood in front of her.

I moved over so he could order. He looked at the board, checked his pockets and didn't seem to have enough for anything. So, he turned around and walked out.

I picked up my coffee and followed him out. He had gone maybe five paces when I shouted, "Hey! Do you want a donut?"

A little embarrassed, he said, "I dont have any money." I told him to come on back in. As we approached the

counter the couple who were still inside looked shocked and confused. We approached the cashier and I said, "What kind do you want?" He whispered, "Jelly."

I said, "Go ahead. Tell her what you want."

"Jelly donut please," he said.

The cashier looked at me and said, "Is that it?"

 I looked at him. "Do you want anything else?"

"Can I have a coffee?" he asked me. I said, "Yes. Tell her."

He did. The total came to $2.30, which is small change compared to what the typical person spends in a day.

But to him it made a great difference.

I walked out and the couple were outside talking. The lady whispered to me, "I am glad you did that - before 

he tried to rob the place for a donut."

I stopped, looked at her, and said, "Are you a Christian?" She said, "Of course!" I said, "Are you sure? Because aren't Christians supposed to love their brothers and sisters, and help them when they need it, and not judge?"

She didnt have a response.

Being able to help the young man truly made my day. And I hope that perhaps it helped change the attitudes of the people watching, which would be a good thing too.

--by Nesquick

Motivational Story - Deposit a Lot of Happiness in the Bank Account of Memories

The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, Moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary.

After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. "I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room .... just wait."

"That doesn't have anything to do with it," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged, it's how I arrange my Mind. I already decided to love it. It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I'll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I've stored away, just for this time in my life."

She went on to explain, "Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw from what you've put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories Thank you for your part in filling my Memory bank. I am still depositing."

Must Read Quick 5 Minute Management Course

Lesson 1

A priest offered a Nun a lift...
She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg. The priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg..... The nun said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'

The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again. The nun once again said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'

The priest apologized 'Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.'

Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way. On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It said, 'Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.'

Moral of the story:
If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.


Lesson 2

A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes out. The Genie says, 'I'll give each of you just one wish.'

'Me first! Me first!' says the admin clerk.. 'I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world..' Poof! She's gone.

'Me next! Me next!' says the sales rep. 'I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas,and the love of my life.' Poof! He's gone.

'OK, you're up,' the Genie says to the manager. The manager says, 'I want those two back in the office after lunch.'

Moral of the story:
Always let your boss have the first say.


Lesson 3

An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing.
A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, 'Can I also sit like you and do nothing?'
The eagle answered: 'Sure, why not.'So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested.
All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.

Moral of the story:
To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.


Lesson 4

A turkey was chatting with a bull. 'I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree' sighed the turkey, 'but I haven't got the energy.'

'Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull. It's full of nutrients.'

The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.

He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.

Moral of the story:
Bull Shit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there...



Lesson 5

A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him.

As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was.
The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. ..

Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.

Moral of the story:
(1) Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
(2) Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
(3) And when you're in deep shit, it's best to keep your mouth shut!

THUS ENDS THE 5-MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE.

Every Failure Is A Small Step Towards Success - Must Read Abraham Lincoln's Inspirational Story

In the world everyone is meeting failure. Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again. But this time we can begin with more knowledgeable and intelligent.

Never allow your failures let you down. Always try to extract one thing that you have learned from each of your failures. By this your negative thinking are often broken at the time of failure. Here is an inspirational life captured from amazing man.

>>At the age of 22, he has failed in his business.

>>At the age of 23, he ran for legislature election and last.

>>At the age of 24, he failed to another business.

>>At the age of 25, he elected to legislature.

>>At the age of 26, he has lost his girlfriend.

>>At the age of 27, he had suffered from nervous breakdown.

>>At the age of 29, he was defeated for speaker of the house.

>>At the age of 31, he was defeated for elector.

>>At the age of 34, he defeated for US Congress.

>>At the age of 37, he was elected to US Congress.

>>At the age of 39, he was defeated for US Congress.

>>At the age of 46, he was defeated for US Senate.

>>At the age of 47, he was defeated for US Vice President.

>>At the age of 49, he was defeated for US Senate.

>>At the age of 51, finally, he was elected as president for United States of America.

And he is none other than ABRAHAM LINCOLN

A Very Inpiring Story : The King And The Bees - James Baldwin

One day King Solomon was sitting on his throne, and his great men were standing around him.

Suddenly the door was thrown open and the Queen of Sheba came in.

"O King," she said, "in my own country, far, far away, I have heard much about your power and glory, but much more about your wisdom. Men have told me that there is no riddle so cunning that you can not solve it. Is this true?"

"It is as you say, O Queen," answered Solomon.

"Well, I have here a puzzle which I think will test your wisdom. Shall I show it to you?"

"Most certainly, O Queen."

Then she held up in each hand a beautiful wreath of flowers. The wreaths were so nearly alike that none of those who were with the king could point out any difference.

"One of these wreaths." said the queen, "is made of flowers plucked from your garden. The other is made of artificial flowers, shaped and colored by a skillful artist. Now, tell me, O King, which is the true,
and which is the false?"

The king, for once, was puzzled. He stroked his chin. He looked at the wreaths from every side. He frowned. He bit his lips.

"Which is the true?" the queen again asked.

Still the king did not answer.

"I have heard that you are the wisest man in the world," she said, "and surely this simple thing ought not to puzzle you."

The king moved uneasily on his golden throne. His officers and great men shook their heads. Some would have smiled, if they had dared.

"Look at the flowers carefully," said the queen, "and let us have your answer."

Then the king remembered something. He remembered that close by his window there was a climbing vine filled with beautiful sweet flowers.
He remembered that he had seen many bees flying among these flowers and gathering honey from them.

So he said, "Open the window!"

It was opened. The queen was standing quite near to it with the two wreaths still in her hands. All eyes were turned to see why the king had said, "Open the window."

The next moment two bees flew eagerly in. Then came another and another. All flew to the flowers in the queen's right hand. Not one of the bees so much as looked at those in her left hand.

"O Queen of Sheba, the bees have given you my answer," then said Solomon.

And the queen said, "You are wise, King Solomon. You gather knowledge from the little things which common men pass by unnoticed."

King Solomon lived three thousand years ago. He built a great temple in Jerusalem, and was famous for his wisdom.

The 3 Critical Mistakes Most People Make

If you’re finding that you’re not currently living the type of life you’d really like, I’d encourage you to have a look at how you might be responsible for your situation.

There are three critical things that you can change immediately that will have a dramatic impact on your quality of life. And, if I’m to be completely honest, the vast majority of people I’ve met in my life are guilty of committing at least one these errors… yours truly included in that count.

So what are the three critical factors?

1. The first is BLAMING others for your situation:

“The government is responsible for the terrible economic conditions right now – it’s no wonder I can’t afford to buy a home!”

“My boss won’t give me the respect - or the promotion! - that I deserve.”

“That was so-and-so’s responsibility, and now I have to clean up their mess.”

Blah, blah, blah.

The more you blame other people, the more power you give away. How can YOU make your life better, if everyone else is to blame? The first step is to take 100% responsibility for your life. You are in control. You - and only you - have put yourself in the situation you currently find yourself in. Without a doubt, some of you are reading this and thinking, “Well it’s true! So-and-so did put me in this, or that situation. Who is this Paul Keetch anyway?

Well, go on and keep thinking that way then. But I guarantee this: if you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ll keep getting the results you’ve always gotten.

2. The second critical mistake is JUSTIFYING your actions or attitudes:
When you justify you’re saying to yourself (along with anyone else silly enough to listen) that you are vindicated, that responsibility lies elsewhere. When you absolve yourself of responsibility for your situation, you are telling the Universe, “Someone else is in control here. I don’t have the power to control my life, and I don’t want it.”

Instead of justifying, try taking a good, hard look at the situation you’re absolving yourself from. Ask yourself, “How did I in some way participate in creating this situation?” Look for opportunities to learn from the past and you will be better equipped to deal with similar situations in the future.

3. The third and final critical error is COMPLAINING - and this is by far the most potent and damaging to your ability to live a happy and successful life:

When you complain, what are you focusing on? Of course, the answer is that you’re focusing on the negative aspect of whatever the situation is. Have you ever heard the idea that what you focus on expands? If you believe, like I do, that this is true, then when you focus on the negative, you’ll end up expanding the negative - the very thing you’re trying to avoid! Even the word avoid is hurtful to your ability to be happy. Instead of trying to avoid pain, try focusing on trying to find or enhance pleasure and the positive side of life.

So what’s the solution?

Try and go 24 hours - just one day - without blaming others, justifying your situation or actions, or complaining (about yourself or someone else) and see how you do. My guess is that you’ll find yourself making one of these critical mistakes - what I call happy killers - within the first hour.

That’s okay. Just start over. Every time you find yourself complaining, blaming or justifying just stop, be grateful that you’ve noticed this harmful behaviour, send out a cancel notice to the Universe, then reset the timer and start over again.

Do this, I guarantee that you’ll find yourself well on your way to living a more fruitful, productive and, most importantly, happy life.

- Paul Keetch

Inspiring story - Commitment

I will never forget what my old headmaster told taught me. Normally when you are only 15 years of age you do not remember most of the things that are preached by your teachers. But, this particular story is one such lesson that I will never forget. Every time I drift off course, I get reminded of this story.

It was a normal Monday morning at an assembly, and he was addressing the students on important things in life and about committing ourselves to what is important to us. This is how the story went:

An old man lived in a certain part of London, and he would wake up every morning and go to the subway. He would get the train right to Central London, and then sit at the street corner and beg. He would do this every single day of his life. He sat at the same street corner and begged for almost 20 years.

His house was filthy, and a stench came out of the house and it smelled horribly. The neighbors could not stand the smell anymore, so they summoned the police officers to clear the place. The officers knocked down the door and cleaned the house. There were small bags of money all over the house that he had collected over the years.

The police counted the money, and they soon realized that the old man was a millionaire. They waited outside his house in anticipation to share the good news with him. When he arrived home that evening, he was met by one the officers who told him that there was no need for him to beg any more as he was a rich man now, a millionaire.

He said nothing at all; he went into his house and locked the door. The next morning he woke up as usual, went to the subway, got into the train, and sat at the street corner and continued to beg.

Obviously, this old man had no great plans, dreams or anything significant for his life. We learn nothing from this story other than staying focused on the things we enjoy doing, commitment.

We should remain true to our course; which may mean committing yourselves to things that people around you would normally disapprove. Let nothing distract us from being happy, let nothing else determine our fate, but ourselves.

What makes us happy is what matters in the end,
not what we acquire.

- Author Unknown

Heart Warming Story For The Soul!!

One day a woman was walking down the street when she spied a beggar sitting in the corner. The man was elderly, unshaven, and ragged. As he sat there, pedestrians walked by him giving him dirty looks. They clearly wanted nothing to do with him because of who he was -- a dirty, homeless man. But when she saw him, the woman was moved to compassion.

It was very cold that day and the man had his tattered coat -- more like an old suit coat rather than a warm coat -- wrapped around him. She stopped and looked down. "Sir?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before. "Leave me alone," he growled.

To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling -- her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"No," he answered sarcastically. "I've just come from dining with the president. Now go away."

The woman's smile became even broader. Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm. "What are you doing, lady?" the man asked angrily.

"I said to leave me alone."

Just then a policeman came up. "Is there any problem, ma'am?" he asked.

"No problem here, officer," the woman answered. "I'm just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?"

The officer scratched his head. "That's old Jack. He's been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?"

"See that cafeteria over there?" she asked. "I'm going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile."

"Are you crazy, lady?" the homeless man resisted. "I don't want to go in there!" Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up. "Let me go, officer. I didn't do anything."

"This is a good deal for you, Jack," the officer answered. "Don't blow it."

Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner.

It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived. The manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by the table. "What's going on here, officer?" he asked. "What is all this. Is this man in trouble?"

"This lady brought this man in here to be fed," the policeman answered.

"Not in here!" the manager replied angrily. "Having a person like that here is bad for business."

Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. "See, lady. I told you so. Now if you'll let me go. I didn't want to come here in the first place."

The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled. "Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?"

"Of course I am," the manager answered impatiently. "They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms."

"And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?"

"What business is that of yours?"

"I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company."

"Oh."

The woman smiled again. "I thought that might make a difference." She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a giggle. "Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?"


"No thanks, ma'am," the officer replied. "I'm on duty."

"Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?"

"Yes, ma'am. That would be very nice."

The cafeteria manager turned on his heel. "I'll get your coffee for you right away, officer."

The officer watched him walk away. "You certainly put him in his place," he said.

"That was not my intent. Believe it or not, I have a reason for all this."

She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest. She stared at him intently. "Jack, do you remember me?"

Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes "I think so -- I mean you do look familiar."

"I'm a little older perhaps," she said. "Maybe I've even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry."

"Ma'am?" the officer said questioningly. He couldn't believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry.

"I was just out of college," the woman began. "I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn't find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment. I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving. I saw this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat."

Jack lit up with a smile. "Now I remember," he said. "I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy."

"I know," the woman continued. "Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble. Then, when I looked over, I saw you put the price of my food in the cash register. I knew then that everything would be all right."
"So you started your own business?" Old Jack said.

"I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered." She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. "When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons. He's the personnel director of my company. I'll go talk to him now and I'm
certain he'll find something for you to do around the office." She smiled. "I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet. And if you ever need anything, my door is always opened to you."

There were tears in the old man's eyes. "How can I ever thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me," the woman answered. "To God goes the glory. Thank him. He led me to you."

Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways. "Thank you for all your help, officer," she said.

"On the contrary, Ms. Eddy," he answered. "Thank you. I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget. And... And thank you for the coffee."

She frowned. "I forgot to ask you whether you used cream or sugar. That's black."

The officer looked at the steaming cup of coffee in his hand. "Yes, I do take cream and sugar -- perhaps more sugar than is good for me." He patted his ample stomach.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I don't need it now," he replied smiling. "I've got the feeling that this coffee you bought me is going to taste as sweet as sugar."

If you have missed knowing me, you have missed nothing.

If you have missed some of my emails, you have missed a laugh.

But, if you have missed knowing GOD, you have missed everything in the world.

God is love.

- Author Unknown

A Lesson in Dignity

Everyday as I drove through town, I saw a one-legged man going through ash cans for cigerette butts and trash cans outside of fast food restaurants looking for food. It was only a month before Christmas, starting to get cold (I lived in a town that was over 6,000 ft. altitude) and I could not quit thinking about him. It was a year where we didn't have enough money to really have much in the way of presents but I figured what was too little for us would be a lot for someone who had nothing.

So I bought a brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, pack of cigerettes, cans of tuna, just little things that didn't cost much and then I added a blanket and sweatshirts. I made a box up like a present and went in search of this man. I saw him hobble away from the dumpster next to McDonalds. I pulled over, grabbed the box and went up to him. I said, "I would like to give you a Christmas present, there are some food items in here and some things you might be able to use."

He sidestepped around me and said, "No thank you, I just had lunch. I don't need anything." Then he hobbled on down the sidewalk, leaving me standing there in tears. I took the box down to a little shop that gave things out to the poor and homeless and told them what had happened and asked that they give the box to someone who could use it. The person there said not to be upset and let my feelings be hurt as I was still crying. I told her I was not crying for me but for him because what I had done was take away his dignity by treating him like a person in need. I was so ashamed. What a great lesson for me to learn, though.

A few years later I was able to volunteer for a day in St. Anthony's Dining Room in San Francisco where 1,500 to 2,000 homeless are fed everyday. These folks give up their sleeping spot, carry everything they own and stand in line for up to 6 hours to receive the only food they will get to sustain themselves for a 24 hour period. We took one tray of food at a time, and treated them as if they were in a restaurant ordering a meal they were paying for. And when we took our break, we would sit down with one of them and talk and share our food with someone if we had too much.

Since that time, I have had the opportunity, rephrase that, the blessing of being able to sit down and visit with people who at the time just happen to be displaced. I have heard that statistically, the majority of us could not make it if we had to go two months without an income and homelessness were to happen to us. Speaking for me, yes, that would be true and my immediate reaction would be like the first gentleman I mentioned. I might have nothing else but I would want to maintain my dignity as long as possible.

Tough insight, but accepting help is sometimes harder than giving it. But I have also learned a very good lesson about that as well. Someone said to me at one time, "Please let me help you, don't take away MY blessing." And in that statement lies the whole truth of Paying It Forward. I have to accept so I can pass it on!

Have a wonderful giving and accepting day.

- by Jaydeebug

Inspiring Story - The Apple Tree

A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it every day. He loved the tree top, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow...He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time went by.......

The little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree everyday. One day the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. "Come play with me," the asked the boy. I am no longer a kid, I don't ' play around trees anymore." The boy replied, "I want toys. I need money to buy them." "Sorry, but I don't have money.....but you can pick my apples and sell them. Then you will have money." The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples.

The tree was sad.. One day the boy returned and the tree was so excited. "Come and play with me" the tree said. I don't have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me? "Sorry but I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house." So the boy cut all the branches off the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then.

The tree was lonely and sad. One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was so lighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said. "I am so sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat? " "Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a very long long time.

Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. "Sorry, my boy, but I don't have anything for you anymore. No more apples for yo u...." the tree said". "I don't have teeth to bite" the boy replied. "No more trunk for you to climb on" I am too old for that now" the boy said. "I really can't give you anything.....the only thing left is my dying roots" the tree said with tears. "I don't need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years." The boy replied "Good! Old Tree Roots is the best place to lean and rest on." "Come, come sit down with me and rest " The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears......

This is a story for everyone. The tree is our parents. When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad...When we grew up, we left them...only come to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they can to make you happy. You may think the boy is cruel to the tree but that is how all of us are treating our parents.

- Unknown

Motivational Story

It was a sports stadium.

Eight Children were standing on the track to participate in the running event.

* Ready! * Steady! * Bang !!!

With the sound of Toy pistol , all eight girls started running.

Hardly have they covered ten to fifteen steps, one of the smaller girls slipped and fell down, due to bruises and pain she started crying.

When other seven girls heard this sound , stopped running, stood for a while and turned back , they all ran back to the place where the girl fell down.

One among them bent, picked and kissed the girl gently and enquired ' Now pain must have reduced' .

All seven girls lifted the fallen girl , pacified her, two of them held the girl firmly and they all seven joined hands together and walked together and reached the winning post.

Officials were shocked . Clapping of thousands of spectators filled the stadium.

Many eyes were filled with tears and perhaps it had reached the GOD even! YES.

This happened in Hyderabad [INDIA], recently!

The sport was conducted by National Institute of Mental Health .

All these special girls had come to participate in this event and they are spastic children .

Yes, they were mentally retarded Challenged. What did they teach this world?

Teamwork? Humanity? Equality among all??

Successful people help others who are slow in learning so that they are not felt far behind..

- Author Unknown

Crosswalk

As I slowly pulled myself into work this morning, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion; with full speed stress headed my way. Anticipating the "mind over matter" feeling I needed, my eyes not wanting to open my "inbox" to start the day, I remembered the crosswalk.

I was on my way to work a couple weeks ago, frustrated at how late traffic was making me, annoyed at my bad hair day. It was already scorching hot, humid and NO wind. I just wanted to stay in bed and sleep. While being frustrated and annoyed and just plain angry at the day, I was held at a stop light for what seemed like forever.

I glanced over to my left and saw a woman probably in her mid twenties, waiting for the crosswalk sign to allow her to cross. She was dressed in bright colors, gorgeous shoes, with a purse at her side and a glowing smile! Along with these striking things, she also had her dog along for the stroll.

A joyful golden retriever, hopping along on the leash, excited for the day and to be outside with his owner. He just couldn't sit still with how much energy he had. So the woman petted him with her hand, and was talking to him with so much expression, and love - they were so happy! It made me smile underneath my gloomy bad mood.

One detail not mentioned; the woman dressed in bright colors, gorgeous shoes, purse and a glowing smile, with her pal at her side was handicap, in an electric wheel chair, which she could only operate with her right hand. As the crosswalk sign changed, and she pushed the black knob forward to operate her wheelchair across the street, her dog followed happily beside her as the leash was tied to the arm of her chair.

A tear filled my eye, and I smiled! Someone else's situation can kick your mind into gear and remind us what to be thankful for! I have no doubt this woman and her dog were put there for a reason, so I would wake up, and enjoy my day no matter what my hair looked like, no matter what traffic I was stuck in, and no matter what my day had in store for me!

I greatly appreciate this woman and her golden retriever, for teaching me a wonderful lesson! Pay attention to the smallest moments, they will teach the most!

- By Amy Sandlin

Inspiring Story - Voice in the Night

When I was nineteen years old, my friend Hanneke Boogaard was studying to become a nurse at Beatrix Hospital in The Netherlands. There, nursing students work during their study, the same as regular personnel. During her work on the night shift, Hanneke was strangely drawn to one patient in particular, a forty-year-old woman in a coma. Because Mrs. Groensma never had visitors, Hanneke remained at her bedside longer than the others. At first she tried not to admit it, since for her all patients should mean the same. But this woman fascinated her.

When Hanneke heard the patient had no living relatives, she spent even more time with her. She’d learned that people in comas could sometimes hear when they were spoken to. This woman had no one to do that for her, so Hanneke talked softly to her every night. Since she didn’t know her, she didn’t know what to talk about, so she told Mrs. Groensma all about herself. She explained how her parents had died in a car crash when she was young. For hours she shared her many memories of them. That’s all she had to cling to now. How she wished she had a specific personal item to remember them by - - the golden four-leaf-clover locket her mother always wore. It was lost during the accident and never found, even though relatives searched the crash site and nearby ditch. Night after night, she talked and talked and grew more and more attached to Mrs. Groensma.

She would likely never come out of the coma, and she had no one in the world to care for her. Therefore, the time came for her to be transferred to a nursing home where she would eventually die. When Hanneke objected, she was heavily reprimanded for losing touch with her professional attitude and forbidden to contact the patient in the nursing home. Hanneke saw the logic of her supervisors but could not help thinking about Mrs. Groensma often.
Time went by, and Hanneke became a nurse and found a job in the Beatrix Hospital. One day at work, she was instructing a patient when a lady who was questioning another nurse turned and deliberately walked towards her. It was Mrs. Groensma! They found an empty room where they could speak privately, and Mrs. Groensma explained what she was doing there.

She recalled having been in a dark and lonely place, all alone, until the voice of what she thought must have been an angel started speaking, drawing her attention. Later when that voice stopped talking to her, she longed for the sound so much that she started struggling to get to the place where the voice had come from. She came out of the coma and took a long time to recover. Meanwhile she had questioned the nursing home staff. They eventually told her they had instructions to keep away a certain nurse who had made the mistake of getting too attached to her.

As soon as Mrs. Groensma was able, she came to the hospital to find that nurse. When she heard Hanneke talk to the patient, she recognized the voice that had spoken to her during her coma.

Mrs. Groensma took Hanneke’s hand. “I have something I want to give you to thank you. I found it fifteen years ago in a ditch and originally wanted to put pictures of my late husband and me in it and give it to my daughter. When she died, I was all alone and wanted to throw it away, but I never got around to it. I now want you to have it.”

Mrs. Groensma handed Hanneke a small box. Inside, sparkling in the sunlight, lay a golden four-leaf-clover locket. With a pounding heart, Hanneke opened it to see her parents’ photos.

Hanneke now wears the locket day and night and visits Mrs. Groensma whenever she wants.

And they talk and talk and grow more and more attached.

- From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Woman to Woman
Carin Klabbers

A True Hero

The life of a major league baseball player involves more than playing baseball. Especially for those that are popular.

Jim Abbott was one of the most popular players from the moment he first donned a major-league uniform for the California Angels in 1989. Abbott, just twenty-one at the time, was one of the rare few who skips the minor leagues completely and begins his professional career in the big leagues.

But that’s not what made Abbott so special to so many.

Abbott was born without a right hand. In fact, Abbott’s right arm extended from his shoulder to just past the elbow joint.

Abbott, though, didn’t make the big leagues because people felt sorry for him. Abbott could pitch.

The Angels took a chance on him by drafting him out of the University of Michigan and he proved in spring training that year that he was ready for the big leagues.

Using a skill he developed as a kid, Abbott could pitch with his left hand, then quickly transfer a right-hander’s glove from the stub of his right arm onto his left hand, in case he had to field the ball.

If a ball was hit back to him, Abbott would catch it, stick the glove under his right armpit, then pull the ball out with his left hand so he could throw it again. And he did all of this in a second or two.

Abbott became a media magnet. Wherever he went, reporters wanted to hear his story. Abbott was overwhelmed, but never lost his pleasant disposition.

Abbott had a smile for everyone, writers and fans alike.

Many times the media relations department of a major-league team gets requests for fans to meet their favorite baseball players. Abbott was no different.

What was different about one particular fan was what made him similar to Abbott.

The Angels had set up a meeting between Abbott and a young boy from the Midwest. The boy, about nine or ten years old, had lost an arm in a farming accident.

Before one game during a long and arduous baseball season, the boy was brought onto the field to meet Abbott. The boy was obviously nervous, his body language telling the story. Head down, shoulders slumped forward, he had no idea what he was in for.

Abbott and the boy met on the field during batting practice before a game. But they weren’t getting much privacy. The media are allowed to remain on the field up to forty-five minutes before game time, and there were plenty of curious onlookers.

So Abbott had an idea. He took the boy down the left- field line and away from anyone who wanted to get close. The two stood in the outfield, talking, watching batting practice and laughing for about an hour.

When the two returned to the dugout after batting practice, the boy’s eyes sparkled. His head was up and his chest was thrust forward. Abbott was asked what he said to the boy, but he wouldn’t reveal what was said.

That was about ten years ago, and the boy is now an adult. I often wonder whatever became of him, but after his meeting with Abbott, I have no doubt he is leading a happy and productive life. Abbott, after all, was living proof for the boy that he could do anything he wanted. Even pitch in the big leagues.

- Joe Haakenson

Losing My Fear of Having Enough

I commented how it's so easy for me to spend $1.50 on soda every day (or more!), but when I walk by homeless people, somehow I fear that if I start to give them money, I won't have enough.

Well today, somehow that fear was lifted. This was not planned, but I had put $3 in my pocket this morning for sodas (it's Friday after all :-) and never got to the place where I buy them. Then, as I was walking to the train, I saw a homeless man ahead and remembered that I had money I could give. So, I took out one of the dollar bills and gave it to him.

I continued walking and came across another one of the regulars who hangs around at the same time and gave him one of the dollars as well.

I have to say it felt good, but I realized that it was not just because I helped someone else. It was also because I let go of my hold on money: the fear that I wouldn't have enough. In giving them the money it made me realize how much the fear of not having enough kept me from helping others who definitely needed it more than me.

It's a difficult situation, because I do walk by these guys almost every day. I'm not sure what will happen the next time I come across them, but I still have one dollar left. And I know there's lots more where that came from, for me and for them :-)

- Author Unknown

Straight to the Heart

It was my three-year-old grand daughter, Jani, who gave me the answer to a question I'd been puzzling over. I was visiting both of my daughters in the city that day and had taken the youngest grandchild for a walk. It was only by chance that we came upon that little park, complete with tiny hills and lovely greenery. It was like a little hideaway that not a soul knew was there. Even the sounds of traffic were blocked out.

Jani was enjoying the swing and I sat back to watch her from a wooden bench flanked by shrubs. That was when I felt something indescribable yet so peaceful.

What was that?

I knew I'd felt something like this before at our little country home, but even there I was unable to really identify it. That indescribable "feeling" was the reason we ended up buying the place. We had been looking for an affordable home in the country and finally discovered an old armhouse on an acre and a half thirty-minutes from the city.

The house had been built as a one-room schoolhouse in 1911. The basement was still a dirt cellar. Looking at this old place and thinking of giving up my beautiful home in the city with wall-to-wall carpets, a lovely fireplace and a bay window, was a bit of a downer. I just didn't know if I could do it. Then we walked out across the land and that beautiful feeling hit me.

I commented to my husband, Shawn, "It feels so good here."

We looked through the old place and once again walked out in the yard and as we traveled down a wee slope to an enclosure, that wondrous feeling again came upon me. "Shawn, I can't describe it, but it feels so good here!" I guess I told him that at least three or four times that day.

In the weeks and months that followed our purchase of the home, I received that feeling each time I walked in my enclosed "secret garden."

But I was not the only one to feel this warm energy. When we had company I encouraged each person to spend some alone time in the secret garden and every single one reported the same warm good feeling come over them. But what was it?

Now here I was in a park and I had that same lovely indescribable feeling. I called over to my rambunctious little granddaughter. "Jani, come over here and sit with grandma." She climbed up on the park bench and managed to slow down her little energetic body long enough to listen.

"Jani, will you sit here with me and just close your eyes and see if you feel anything?"

Bless her, she didn't question my weird request; she merely closed her eyes and sat perfectly still. I waited to see if she would experience what I did. And then I kept waiting, as she seemed in no hurry to open her eyes. Strange inactivity, for such a lively little bundle of energy!

Finally I could wait no longer. "Jani?" I touched her shoulder gently encouraging her to open her eyes. As she did, I asked, "Jani did you feel anything?"

Trust a child to cut through all the fuss and head straight for the heart. She broke out with a beautiful, radiant smile and she said, "Oh Gamma, it feel like God giving me a hug!"

- By Ellie Braun-Haley

Inspiring Story - Never Too Late

The morning dawned sunny and warm; it was a perfect day for a wedding. All of the preparations had gone smoothly. My shining moment was near. My maid of honor had just begun her walk down the aisle, stepping in perfect time to the music. There I stood in a beautiful satin wedding gown my mother had so lovingly made for me. It was my turn. My heart filled with joy and anticipation as I stood ready to walk down the aisle toward my new life. Then I saw my father, Ralph, stagger drunkenly toward me. I was sickened by the smell of alcohol on his breath. He nearly fell as he hooked his arm through mine. Within seconds, the "Wedding March" started playing - it was time to go.

So I did the same thing I had done so many times before - I faked it - just to keep up appearances. I glued on my best smile, mustered all my strength to hold my dad upright and then walked him down the aisle. Only when my dad was safely seated, and I stood at the altar holding my fiance's hand, could I concentrate on the ceremony. For me, the most important part of my wedding had been ruined. I was angry, embarrassed and extremely hurt. I decided that day to never forgive my father.

My dad had been an alcoholic since I was a little girl. His drinking just snuck up on our family - starting quietly, but getting slowly worse each year.

The escalating problem became very real for me one beautiful October day in 1963 when I was eight years old. I sat on the back step of our home breathing in the fragrance of the autumn leaves and admiring the perfect blue sky. Then I saw my dad begin to load all of his belongings in the car. I looked up at him in disbelief and asked, "Daddy, where are you going?" With tears in his eyes, he answered, "I'm taking a job downtown and need to live there for a while. But I'll be back soon."

I held out a child's hope that he would return home one day. But his out-of-control drinking led to a divorce. He never moved back. After that, I spent virtually every Saturday with my dad - all the way through my teen years. I wish I could say that those were happy days, but frequently they were spent waiting in the car while my dad went into the tavern to "make a few phone calls." My resentment toward him grew and continued to increase until that fateful wedding day.

My resolve never to forgive my father lasted for more than three years after my wedding. Then, something happened. On his seventy-first birthday, my dad visited a doctor to have a complete physical. Shocked at my dad's condition, the doctor told him, "Ralph, unless you quit drinking right now, you won't be alive to give your daughter away at her wedding." My sister's wedding was just six months from then.

Those words scared my father, so he checked himself into a thirty-day, inpatient alcoholic treatment center. Relieved he was finally getting the help he needed, my sister and brothers and I rallied around my dad to give him support. We attended family counseling sessions to learn more about the disease. Although I was supporting his attempt to get sober, I still felt a lot of anger toward him and was unable to forgive him for past hurts.

One day the physicians and counselors met with us and said, "Do not expect a miracle. Your dad is retired, lives alone and has been drinking for over forty years. He will relapse." So we didn't get our hopes up, but we did continue to pray for a miracle.

Then, one day, the miraculous happened. Dad called me and asked if he could meet with me. When we got together, the first thing he said was, "I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you and the rest of the family. I know I don't have a lot of years left on this earth, but I want to live them sober." Dad took my hand, looked me in the eyes and asked, "Will you say the Lord's Prayer with me?" Crying together, we held hands and prayed. As I recited the words of the prayer, I could feel the anger and hurt begin to melt away.

The healing had begun. From that day on, Dad never took another drink. He read the Bible daily, joined Alcoholics Anonymous and became involved in a church. He frequently quoted scriptures to me and claimed only one thing was standing between him and alcohol: "Jesus." My own faith grew with each day of my dad's recovery. As my faith strengthened, my ability to forgive strengthened and I was finally able to let go of the past.

Dad remained sober for the next fourteen years and the miracle continued. At age seventy-two he founded an alumni association for recovering alcoholics and typed an inspirational newsletter on an old typewriter, then mailed it out monthly to nearly 100 people.

At age seventy-three, my dad helped organize an annual hospital event where hundreds of recovering alcoholics and their families gathered to celebrate their sobriety.

At seventy-six he became a proud Red-Coat volunteer at a local hospital, delivering newspapers, flowers and encouragement to patients, and pushing the wheelchairs of new mothers holding new babies who were going home. Dad volunteered there until he was seventy-nine, when he became ill with prostate cancer and moved into a nursing home.

Instead of moping about his situation, however, he appointed himself "the ambassador" for the home. My father took newcomers under his wing, giving them tours of the place and showing them humor in every corner. On holidays, he occasionally called to say, "I'm going to be a little late today because some people here have no visitors - and I'm not leaving anyone alone on Christmas."

When my father died at eighty-five, my brothers, sister and I expected only a few people at his funeral, but over 100 people came. Most were strangers to us, yet one by one, they shared their memories of my dad.

"Your dad is the reason my dad is sober today."
"Your dad is the reason my mom survived living in that nursing home."
"Your father is the glue that held our family together during our dad's drinking crisis."

Then seven men - all wearing red coats - quietly walked in to pay tribute to Dad for inspiring them to volunteer at the hospital. Many of them were over eighty years old.

Had I not removed the blinders of anger and resentment - had I not forgiven my dad - I'd never have witnessed the positive ways he had touched the world. I know now that it's never too late to forgive.

- By Debra Schmidt

Inspiring Story - Trouble Tree

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

On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.

"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied." I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again."

He paused. "Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there ain't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

As the rains set in and our traffic troubles on our city roads lead to frustration and despair, lets each find that tree to hang our troubles and get on with our lives - wet, yet cheerful!

- Author Unknown