A long time ago, before the world was created and humans set foot on it for the first time, virtues and vices floated around and were bored, not knowing what to do.
One day, all the vices and virtues were gathered together and were more bored than ever. Suddenly, Ingenious came up with an idea: "Let's play hide and seek!"
All of them liked the idea and immediately Madness shouted: "I want to count, I want to count!" And since nobody was crazy enough to want to seek Madness, all the others agreed. Madness leaned against a tree and started to count: "One, two, three..."
As Madness counted, the vices and virtues went hiding. Tenderness hung itself on the horn of the moon, Treason hid in a pile of garbage. Fondness curled up between the clouds and Passion went to the center of the earth. Lie said that it would hide under a stone, but hid at the bottom of the lake, whilst Avarice entered a sack that he ended up breaking. And Madness continued to count: "...seventy nine, eighty, eighty one..."
By this time, all the vices and virtues were already hidden - except Love. For undecided as Love is, he could not decide where to hide. And this should not surprise us, because we all know how difficult it is to hide Love.
Madness: "...ninety five, ninety six, ninety seven..." Just when Madness got to one hundred, Love jumped into a rose bush where he hid.
And Madness turned around and shouted: "I'm coming, I'm coming!"
As Madness turned around, Laziness was the first to be found, because Laziness had no energy to hide. Then he spotted Tenderness in the horn of the moon, Lie at the bottom of the lake and Passion at the center of the earth. One by one, Madness found them all - except Love.
Madness was getting desperate, unable to find Love.
Envious of Love, Envy whispered to Madness: "You only need to find Love, and Love is hiding in the rose bush."
Madness grabbed a wooden pitch fork and stabbed wildly at the rose bush. Madness stabbed and stabbed until a heartbreaking cry made him stop. Love appeared from the rose bush, covering his face with his hands. Between his fingers ran two trickles of blood from his eyes.
Madness, so anxious to find Love, had stabbed out Love's eyes with a pitch fork. "What have I done! What have I done!" Madness shouted. "I have left you blind! How can I repair it?"
And Love answered: "You cannot repair my eyes. But if you want to do something for me, you can be my guide."
And so it came about that from that day on, Love is blind and is always accompanied by Madness.
"There are some people who meet that somebody that they can never stop loving...there are some love that don't go away...but we should all be lucky to end up with that somebody who has a little of that insanity. Somebody who never lets go. Somebody who cherishes you forever."
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
The Son
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"
There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"
Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!" A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD
HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON,
WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH,
SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...
THAT'S LOVE.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"
There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"
Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!" A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON,
WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH,
SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...
THAT'S LOVE.
A Father's Love
I received this from a friend and got me teary eyed. It's a very heart warming story and video of a Father's love that I just have to share.
Please read and then watch the video...
A son asked his father, 'Dad, will you take part in a marathon with me?'
The father who, despite having a heart condition, says 'Yes'. They went on to complete the marathon together.
Father and son went on to join other marathons, the father always saying 'Yes' to his son's request of going through the race together.
One day, the son asked his father, 'Dad, let's join the Ironman together.' To which, his father said 'Yes' to.
For those who don't know, Ironman is the toughest triathlon ever. The race encompasses three endurance events of a 2.4 mile (3.86 kilometer) ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile (180.2 kilometer) bike ride, and ending with a 26.2 mile (42.195 kilometer) marathon along the coast of the Big Island Father and son went on to complete the race together.
Now, please watch this video with a powerful music! [be sure to have a kleenex on your hand...]
The Praying Hand
Below is a touching story about DURERS Praying Hands that is circulated widely. It tells of DURER doing his creation in appreciation of a brother who went to work in the mines to support Albrecht's education.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother... for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!
~ Source Unknown ~
The Rose Within
A certain man planted a rose and watered it faithfully and before it blossomed, he examined it.
He saw the bud that would soon blossom, but noticed thorns upon the stem and he thought, "How can any beautiful flower come from a plant burdened with so many sharp thorns? Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and just before it was ready to bloom... it died.
So it is with many people. Within every soul there is a rose. The God-like qualities planted in us at birth, grow amid the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns, the defects.
We despair, thinking that nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it dies. We never realize our potential.
Some people do not see the rose within themselves; someone else must show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns of another, and find the rose within them.
This is one of the characteristic of love... to look at a person, know their true faults and accepting that person into your life... all the while recognizing the nobility in their soul. Help others to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the "rose" within themselves, they will conquer their thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over.
He saw the bud that would soon blossom, but noticed thorns upon the stem and he thought, "How can any beautiful flower come from a plant burdened with so many sharp thorns? Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and just before it was ready to bloom... it died.
So it is with many people. Within every soul there is a rose. The God-like qualities planted in us at birth, grow amid the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns, the defects.
We despair, thinking that nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it dies. We never realize our potential.
Some people do not see the rose within themselves; someone else must show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns of another, and find the rose within them.
This is one of the characteristic of love... to look at a person, know their true faults and accepting that person into your life... all the while recognizing the nobility in their soul. Help others to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the "rose" within themselves, they will conquer their thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over.
A Love Story #4
In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone.
The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.
Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.
He did manage to leave $15 week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.
If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.
I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.
The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck.
The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.
Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop.
It was called the Big Wheel.
An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.
She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.
She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.
I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep.
This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.
That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, and just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.
I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids.
I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting someold toys. Then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.
Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boy's pants and soon they would be too far-gone to repair.
On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel.
These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.
The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.
When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.
I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box. It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.
Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.
And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.
As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.
And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop....
THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer:
1. "Yes!"
2. "Not yet."
3. "I have something better in mind."
God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar.
You may be going through a tough time right now but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that you cannot imagine.
The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.
Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.
He did manage to leave $15 week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.
If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.
I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.
The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck.
The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.
Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop.
It was called the Big Wheel.
An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.
She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.
She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.
I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep.
This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.
That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, and just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.
I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids.
I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting someold toys. Then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.
Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boy's pants and soon they would be too far-gone to repair.
On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel.
These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.
The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.
When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.
I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box. It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.
Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.
And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.
As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.
And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop....
THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer:
1. "Yes!"
2. "Not yet."
3. "I have something better in mind."
God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar.
You may be going through a tough time right now but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that you cannot imagine.
A Love Story #3
I was born in a secluded village on a mountain. Day by day, my parents plowed the yellow dry soil with their backs towards the sky.
I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me. I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I stole 50 cents from my father's drawer. Father had discovered about the stolen money right away.
He made me and my younger brother kneel against the wall as he held a bamboo stick in his hand. "Who stole the money?" he asked. I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said, "Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!" He lifted up the bamboo stick.
Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father's hand and said," Dad, I was the one who did it!" The long stick smacked my brother's back repeatedly. Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my brother until he lost his breath.
After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, "You have learned to steal from your own house now. What other embarrassing things will you be possibly doing in the future? You should be beaten to death, you shameless thief!" That night, my mother and I hugged my brother. His body was full of wounds from the beating but he never shed a single tear.
In the middle of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly. My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and said, "Sis, now don't cry anymore. Everything has happened." I still hate myself for not having enough courage to admit what I did.
Years gone by, but the incident still seemed like it just happened yesterday. I will never forget my brother's expression when he protected me.
That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11 years old.
When my brother was in his last year of secondary school, he was accepted in an upper secondary school in the central. At the same time, I was accepted into a university in the province. That night, father squatted in the yard, smoking, packet by packet.
I could hear him ask my mother, "Both of our children, they have good results? very good results?" Mother wiped off her tears and sighed," What is the use? How can we possibly finance both of them?" At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front of father and said,"Dad, I don't want to continue my study anymore, I have read enough books."
Father swung his hand and slapped my brother on his face. "Why do you have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will send you two to school until you have both finished your study!" And then, he started to knock on every house in the village to borrow money.
I stuck out my hand as gently as I can to my brother's swollen face, and told him, "A boy has to continue his study; If not, he will not be able to overcome this poverty we are experiencing."
I, on the other hand, had decided not to further my study at the university. Nobody knew that on the next day, before dawn, my brother left the house with a few pieces of worn-out clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to my side of the bed and left a note on my pillow; "Sis, getting into a university is not easy. I will go find a job and I will send money to you." I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried until I lost my voice.
That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years old.
With the money father borrowed from the whole village, and the money my brother earned from carrying cement on his back at a construction site,finally, I managed to get to the third year of my study in the university.
One day, while I was studying in my room, my roommate came in and told me,"There's a villager waiting for you outside!" Why would there be a villager looking for me? I walked out, and I saw my brother from afar. His whole body was covered with dirt, dust, cement and sand. I asked him, "Why did you not tell my roommate that you are my brother?"
He replied with a smile," Look at my appearance. What will they think if they would know that I am your brother? Won't they laugh at you?" I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept away dirt and dust from my brother's body. And told him with a lump in my throat, " I don't care what people would say! You are my brother no matter what your appearance is?"
From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He put it on my hair and said, "I saw all the girls in town are wearing it. So, I think you should also have one." I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my brother into my arms and cried.
That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old.
I noticed that the broken window was repaired the first time I brought my boyfriend home. The house was scrubbed cleaned. After my boyfriend left, I danced like a little girl in front of my mother, "Mom, you didn't have to spend so much time cleaning the house!" But she told me with a smile, "It was your brother who went home early to clean the house. Didn't you see the wound on his hand? He hurt his hand while he was replacing the window." I went into my brother's bedroom. Looking at his thin face, I felt like there are hundreds of needle pricked in my heart.
I applied some ointment on his wound and put a bandag on it, "Does it hurt? " I asked him. "No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when at the construction site, stones keep falling on my feet. Even that could not stop me from working." In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I turned my back on him and tears rolled down my face.
That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years old.
After I got married, I lived in the city. Many times my husband invited my parents to come and live with us, but they didn't want. They said, once they left the village,they wouldn't know what to do. My brother agreed with them. He said, "Sis, you just take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of mom and dad here."
My husband became the director of his factory. We asked my brother to accept the offer of being the manager in the maintenance department. But my brother rejected the offer. He insisted on working as a repairman instead for a start. One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder repairing a cable, when he got electrocuted, and was sent to the hospital.
My husband and I visited him at the hospital. Looking at the white gypsum on his leg, I grumbled, "Why did you reject the offer of being a manager? Managers won't do something dangerous like that. Now look at you, You ar suffering a serious injury. Why didn't you just listen to us?"
With a serious expression on his face, he defended his decision, "Think of brother-in-law. He just became the director, and I being uneducated, and would become a manager, what kind of rumors would fly around?"
My husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I said, "But you lack in education only because of me!" "Why do you talk about the past?" he said and then he held my hand.
That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years old.
My brother was 30 years old when he married a farmer girl from the village. During the wedding reception, the master of ceremonies asked him, "Who is the one person you respect and love the most?" Without even taking a time to think, he answered," My sister." He continued by telling a story I could not even remember.
"When I was in primary school, the school was in a different village. Everyday, my sister and I would walk for 2 hours to school and back home. One day, I lost the other pair of my gloves. My sister gave me one of hers. She wore only one glove and she had to walk far. When we got home, her hands were trembling because of the cold weather that she could not even hold her chopsticks. >From that day on, I swore that as long as I live, I would take care of my sister and will always be good to her."
Applause filled up the room. All guests turned their attention to me. I found it hard to speak, "In my whole life, the one I would like to thank most is my brother," And in this happy occasion,in front of the crowd, tears were rolling down my face again.
Love and care for the one you love every single days of your life. You may think what you did is just a small deed, but to that someone, it may mean a lot. Have a nice day everyone! May this story inspire you in any way!
I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me. I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I stole 50 cents from my father's drawer. Father had discovered about the stolen money right away.
He made me and my younger brother kneel against the wall as he held a bamboo stick in his hand. "Who stole the money?" he asked. I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said, "Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!" He lifted up the bamboo stick.
Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father's hand and said," Dad, I was the one who did it!" The long stick smacked my brother's back repeatedly. Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my brother until he lost his breath.
After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, "You have learned to steal from your own house now. What other embarrassing things will you be possibly doing in the future? You should be beaten to death, you shameless thief!" That night, my mother and I hugged my brother. His body was full of wounds from the beating but he never shed a single tear.
In the middle of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly. My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and said, "Sis, now don't cry anymore. Everything has happened." I still hate myself for not having enough courage to admit what I did.
Years gone by, but the incident still seemed like it just happened yesterday. I will never forget my brother's expression when he protected me.
That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11 years old.
When my brother was in his last year of secondary school, he was accepted in an upper secondary school in the central. At the same time, I was accepted into a university in the province. That night, father squatted in the yard, smoking, packet by packet.
I could hear him ask my mother, "Both of our children, they have good results? very good results?" Mother wiped off her tears and sighed," What is the use? How can we possibly finance both of them?" At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front of father and said,"Dad, I don't want to continue my study anymore, I have read enough books."
Father swung his hand and slapped my brother on his face. "Why do you have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will send you two to school until you have both finished your study!" And then, he started to knock on every house in the village to borrow money.
I stuck out my hand as gently as I can to my brother's swollen face, and told him, "A boy has to continue his study; If not, he will not be able to overcome this poverty we are experiencing."
I, on the other hand, had decided not to further my study at the university. Nobody knew that on the next day, before dawn, my brother left the house with a few pieces of worn-out clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to my side of the bed and left a note on my pillow; "Sis, getting into a university is not easy. I will go find a job and I will send money to you." I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried until I lost my voice.
That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years old.
With the money father borrowed from the whole village, and the money my brother earned from carrying cement on his back at a construction site,finally, I managed to get to the third year of my study in the university.
One day, while I was studying in my room, my roommate came in and told me,"There's a villager waiting for you outside!" Why would there be a villager looking for me? I walked out, and I saw my brother from afar. His whole body was covered with dirt, dust, cement and sand. I asked him, "Why did you not tell my roommate that you are my brother?"
He replied with a smile," Look at my appearance. What will they think if they would know that I am your brother? Won't they laugh at you?" I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept away dirt and dust from my brother's body. And told him with a lump in my throat, " I don't care what people would say! You are my brother no matter what your appearance is?"
From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He put it on my hair and said, "I saw all the girls in town are wearing it. So, I think you should also have one." I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my brother into my arms and cried.
That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old.
I noticed that the broken window was repaired the first time I brought my boyfriend home. The house was scrubbed cleaned. After my boyfriend left, I danced like a little girl in front of my mother, "Mom, you didn't have to spend so much time cleaning the house!" But she told me with a smile, "It was your brother who went home early to clean the house. Didn't you see the wound on his hand? He hurt his hand while he was replacing the window." I went into my brother's bedroom. Looking at his thin face, I felt like there are hundreds of needle pricked in my heart.
I applied some ointment on his wound and put a bandag on it, "Does it hurt? " I asked him. "No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when at the construction site, stones keep falling on my feet. Even that could not stop me from working." In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I turned my back on him and tears rolled down my face.
That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years old.
After I got married, I lived in the city. Many times my husband invited my parents to come and live with us, but they didn't want. They said, once they left the village,they wouldn't know what to do. My brother agreed with them. He said, "Sis, you just take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of mom and dad here."
My husband became the director of his factory. We asked my brother to accept the offer of being the manager in the maintenance department. But my brother rejected the offer. He insisted on working as a repairman instead for a start. One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder repairing a cable, when he got electrocuted, and was sent to the hospital.
My husband and I visited him at the hospital. Looking at the white gypsum on his leg, I grumbled, "Why did you reject the offer of being a manager? Managers won't do something dangerous like that. Now look at you, You ar suffering a serious injury. Why didn't you just listen to us?"
With a serious expression on his face, he defended his decision, "Think of brother-in-law. He just became the director, and I being uneducated, and would become a manager, what kind of rumors would fly around?"
My husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I said, "But you lack in education only because of me!" "Why do you talk about the past?" he said and then he held my hand.
That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years old.
My brother was 30 years old when he married a farmer girl from the village. During the wedding reception, the master of ceremonies asked him, "Who is the one person you respect and love the most?" Without even taking a time to think, he answered," My sister." He continued by telling a story I could not even remember.
"When I was in primary school, the school was in a different village. Everyday, my sister and I would walk for 2 hours to school and back home. One day, I lost the other pair of my gloves. My sister gave me one of hers. She wore only one glove and she had to walk far. When we got home, her hands were trembling because of the cold weather that she could not even hold her chopsticks. >From that day on, I swore that as long as I live, I would take care of my sister and will always be good to her."
Applause filled up the room. All guests turned their attention to me. I found it hard to speak, "In my whole life, the one I would like to thank most is my brother," And in this happy occasion,in front of the crowd, tears were rolling down my face again.
Love and care for the one you love every single days of your life. You may think what you did is just a small deed, but to that someone, it may mean a lot. Have a nice day everyone! May this story inspire you in any way!
The fourth finger
Why must we wear the ring on the fourth finger... Please follow the steps and you will know. First, do as the photo shown below.
Try to separate your thumbs. Thumb represent parent, they will leave you someday, hence the thumbs can be separated.
Close your thumbs and try to separate your index fingers. Index fingers represent siblings, they will leave you someday when they have their own family, hence index fingers can be separated.
Close your index fingers and try to separate your little fingers. Little fingers represent children, they will leave you someday when they have grown up, hence little fingers can be separated.
Now close your little fingers and try to separate your fourth fingers. You will realize that you cannot separate them, because they represent the marriage of husband and wife.
Try to separate your thumbs. Thumb represent parent, they will leave you someday, hence the thumbs can be separated.
Close your thumbs and try to separate your index fingers. Index fingers represent siblings, they will leave you someday when they have their own family, hence index fingers can be separated.
Close your index fingers and try to separate your little fingers. Little fingers represent children, they will leave you someday when they have grown up, hence little fingers can be separated.
Now close your little fingers and try to separate your fourth fingers. You will realize that you cannot separate them, because they represent the marriage of husband and wife.
Have You Ever been In Love?
This is true unconditional Love!
Remember when you realized/admitted to yourself that you loved him/her.
Now remember how much you wanted to act like you were in a movie, and yell to everyone in the football stadium "I love (fill in the name)!"
You told family and friends how perfect he/she was.
You told your boys/girls how she/he was just what you were looking for.
Well, I told GOD I love Him today.
And He said to me, "How much do you love me? You haven't told anyone how good I've been to you. You haven't shared how perfect my love is. You haven't spread the good news that I am always there to listen to your problems. You haven't told your family how I helped you pay your bills when you didn't have a high paying job, or how I got you a better one. You didn't tell your boys/girls how I took away that addiction that would have cost you not only your job, but that woman/man that was just what you were looking for. So how much do you really love me?"
So, I said I would share with my friends and family (for starters) just how wonderful, perfect, understanding, patient, loving, unselfish, considerate and forgiving GOD really is. He has blessed me with a family that loves me and friends in which I can confide.
But even more than that He has saved me from a destruction I couldn't even see coming. He gave to me the peace of knowing Him and He has never broken a promise. Truly He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
And I stand in my stadium today to yell to you all "I love GOD!"
BE BLESSED TODAY & SHARE WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
When was the last time you told God you Love Him?
~ Author Unknown ~
Remember when you realized/admitted to yourself that you loved him/her.
Now remember how much you wanted to act like you were in a movie, and yell to everyone in the football stadium "I love (fill in the name)!"
You told family and friends how perfect he/she was.
You told your boys/girls how she/he was just what you were looking for.
Well, I told GOD I love Him today.
And He said to me, "How much do you love me? You haven't told anyone how good I've been to you. You haven't shared how perfect my love is. You haven't spread the good news that I am always there to listen to your problems. You haven't told your family how I helped you pay your bills when you didn't have a high paying job, or how I got you a better one. You didn't tell your boys/girls how I took away that addiction that would have cost you not only your job, but that woman/man that was just what you were looking for. So how much do you really love me?"
So, I said I would share with my friends and family (for starters) just how wonderful, perfect, understanding, patient, loving, unselfish, considerate and forgiving GOD really is. He has blessed me with a family that loves me and friends in which I can confide.
But even more than that He has saved me from a destruction I couldn't even see coming. He gave to me the peace of knowing Him and He has never broken a promise. Truly He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
And I stand in my stadium today to yell to you all "I love GOD!"
BE BLESSED TODAY & SHARE WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
When was the last time you told God you Love Him?
~ Author Unknown ~
Love Quotes
What greater thing is there for two human souls that to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
In the arithmetic of love, one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing.
There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread.
Love cannot endure indifference. It needs to be wanted. Like a lamp, it needs to be fed out of the oil of another's heart, or its flame burns low.
You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love.
Treasure the love you receive above all. It will survive long after your good health has vanished.
The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.
Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and stretching the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise men of fools; favouring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy.
All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time. effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.
Love is the history of a woman's life; it is an episode in man's.
The only gift is a portion of thyself.
The best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts,
of kindness and of love.
Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.
Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other.
Love is an electric blanket with somebody else in control of the switch.
Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking together in the same direction.
Find the person who will love you because of your differences and not in spite of them and you have found a lover for life.
Kindness in words creates confidence.
Kindness in thinking creates profoundness.
Kindness in giving creates love.
The heart has reasons that reason does not understand.
Love is the true means by which the world is enjoyed: our love to others, and others' love to us.
Love is always bestowed as a gift -- freely, willingly, and without expectation....
We don't love to be loved; we love to love.
It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than
not to be able to love at all.
Love is a mutual self-giving which ends in self-recovery.
We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us.
Love grows by giving. The love we give away is the only love we keep. The only way to retain love is to give it away.
The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
We are all born for love... it is the principle existence and it's only end.
To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.
May no gift be too small to give, nor too simple to receive, which is wrapped in thoughtfulness and tied with love.
The dedicated life is the life worth living. You must give with your whole heart.
Love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness.
You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose.
Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.
The truth [is] that there is only one terminal dignity-love. And the story of a love is not important - what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.
In the arithmetic of love, one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing.
There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread.
Love cannot endure indifference. It needs to be wanted. Like a lamp, it needs to be fed out of the oil of another's heart, or its flame burns low.
You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love.
Treasure the love you receive above all. It will survive long after your good health has vanished.
The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.
Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and stretching the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise men of fools; favouring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy.
All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time. effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.
Love is the history of a woman's life; it is an episode in man's.
The only gift is a portion of thyself.
The best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts,
of kindness and of love.
Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.
Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other.
Love is an electric blanket with somebody else in control of the switch.
Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking together in the same direction.
Find the person who will love you because of your differences and not in spite of them and you have found a lover for life.
Kindness in words creates confidence.
Kindness in thinking creates profoundness.
Kindness in giving creates love.
The heart has reasons that reason does not understand.
Love is the true means by which the world is enjoyed: our love to others, and others' love to us.
Love is always bestowed as a gift -- freely, willingly, and without expectation....
We don't love to be loved; we love to love.
It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than
not to be able to love at all.
Love is a mutual self-giving which ends in self-recovery.
We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us.
Love grows by giving. The love we give away is the only love we keep. The only way to retain love is to give it away.
The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
We are all born for love... it is the principle existence and it's only end.
To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.
May no gift be too small to give, nor too simple to receive, which is wrapped in thoughtfulness and tied with love.
The dedicated life is the life worth living. You must give with your whole heart.
Love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness.
You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose.
Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.
The truth [is] that there is only one terminal dignity-love. And the story of a love is not important - what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.
L O V E
I was blog hopping and got hooked up on this blog. Just thought I'd share this poem that I got from Laura's blog.
...oOo...
~ by Pablo Neruda ~
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands; how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.
~ by Pablo Neruda ~
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands; how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.
Personal Expressions (card) #2
I promised to love you forever -To stay by your side
Through good times and bad times,
In sickness, as well as in health.
It was the biggest promise I ever made.
Yet each year, as forever draws closer,
I'm struck by how simple it has been.
I've learned that bad times are easier shared
And the the sharing makes love grow deeper.
I've learned that forever is too short
And that marrying you was the smartest thing I ever did.
by Alarie Tennille
Personal Expressions (card) #1
It's been so long since we've shared any time together,
I've had to rely on memories to make me smile the way you used to...
I can hardly remember the last time we had a good, long talk.
Every time I think I'm finally going to have a few minutes
To try to get in touch, something falls through.
You know how it is... our lives are so full.
Still... I want you to know that I think of you often.
And when I realize how much time has passed, I'm totally surprised.
That's why I want to let you know that I miss you,
And I hope your life is going well.
Someday soon, let's get caught up...
Till then, you're in my thoughts, making me smile as usual.
by Renee Duvall
I've had to rely on memories to make me smile the way you used to...
I can hardly remember the last time we had a good, long talk.
Every time I think I'm finally going to have a few minutes
To try to get in touch, something falls through.
You know how it is... our lives are so full.
Still... I want you to know that I think of you often.
And when I realize how much time has passed, I'm totally surprised.
That's why I want to let you know that I miss you,
And I hope your life is going well.
Someday soon, let's get caught up...
Till then, you're in my thoughts, making me smile as usual.
by Renee Duvall
Take Hold of Every Moment
A friend of mine opened his wife's underwear drawer and picked up a silk paper wrapped package: "This", he said, "isn't any ordinary package." He unwrapped the box and stared at both the silk paper and the box. "She got this the first time we went to New York, 8 or 9 years ago. She has never put it on. Was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is it."
He got near the bed and placed the gift box next to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house, his wife had just died. He turned to me and said: "Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion".
I still think those words changed my life. Now I read more and clean less. I sit on the porch without worrying about anything. I spend more time with my family, and less at work. I understood that life should be a source of experience to be lived up to, not survived through. I no longer keep anything. I use crystal glasses every day. I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket, if I feel like it. I don't save my special perfume for special occasion, I use it whenever I want to. The words "someday..." and "one day..." are fading away from my dictionary. If it's worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen or do it now.
I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she knew she wouldn't be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends. She might call old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I'd like to think she would go out for Chinese, her favorite food. It's these small things that I would regret not doing, if I knew my time had come. I would regret it because I would no longer see the friends I would meet, letters... letters that I wanted to write "one of these days". I would regret and feel sad, because I didn't say to my brothers and sons, not times enough at least, how much I love them.
Now, I try not to delay, postpone or keep anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives.. And, on each morning, I say to myself that this could be a special day.. Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.
If you got this, it's because someone cares for you and because, probably, there's someone you care about. If you're too busy to send this out to other people and you say to yourself that you will send it "one of these days", remember that "one day" is far away... or might never come...
STOP procastinating!
He got near the bed and placed the gift box next to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house, his wife had just died. He turned to me and said: "Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion".
I still think those words changed my life. Now I read more and clean less. I sit on the porch without worrying about anything. I spend more time with my family, and less at work. I understood that life should be a source of experience to be lived up to, not survived through. I no longer keep anything. I use crystal glasses every day. I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket, if I feel like it. I don't save my special perfume for special occasion, I use it whenever I want to. The words "someday..." and "one day..." are fading away from my dictionary. If it's worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen or do it now.
I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she knew she wouldn't be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends. She might call old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I'd like to think she would go out for Chinese, her favorite food. It's these small things that I would regret not doing, if I knew my time had come. I would regret it because I would no longer see the friends I would meet, letters... letters that I wanted to write "one of these days". I would regret and feel sad, because I didn't say to my brothers and sons, not times enough at least, how much I love them.
Now, I try not to delay, postpone or keep anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives.. And, on each morning, I say to myself that this could be a special day.. Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.
If you got this, it's because someone cares for you and because, probably, there's someone you care about. If you're too busy to send this out to other people and you say to yourself that you will send it "one of these days", remember that "one day" is far away... or might never come...
STOP procastinating!
Tomorrow may be too late
If you're mad with someone, and nobody's there to fix the situation... You fix it. Maybe today, that person still wants to be your friend. And if you don't, tomorrow may be too late.
If you're in love with somebody, but that person doesn't know... tell her. Maybe today, that person is also in love with you. And if you don't say it, tomorrow may be too late.
If you really want to kiss somebody... if you need a hug of a friend... ask her for it. Maybe they need it more than you do. And if you don't ask for it today, tomorrow may be too late.
If you really have friends who you appreciate... tell them. Maybe they appreciate you as well. That if you don't and they leave or go far away today, tomorrow may be too late.
If you love your parents, and never had the chance to show them... do it. Maybe you have them there to show them how you feel. That if you don't and they leave today, then tomorrow may be too late.
If you're in love with somebody, but that person doesn't know... tell her. Maybe today, that person is also in love with you. And if you don't say it, tomorrow may be too late.
If you really want to kiss somebody... if you need a hug of a friend... ask her for it. Maybe they need it more than you do. And if you don't ask for it today, tomorrow may be too late.
If you really have friends who you appreciate... tell them. Maybe they appreciate you as well. That if you don't and they leave or go far away today, tomorrow may be too late.
If you love your parents, and never had the chance to show them... do it. Maybe you have them there to show them how you feel. That if you don't and they leave today, then tomorrow may be too late.
The beauty of Love
The question is asked, "Is there anything more beautiful in life than a young couple clasping hands and pure hearts in the path of marriage? Can there be anything more beautiful than young love?"
And the answer is given. "Yes, there is a more beautiful thing. It is the spectacle of an old man and an old woman finishing their journey together on that path. Their hands are gnarled, but still clasped; their faces are seamed, but still radiant; their hearts are physically bowed and tired, but still strong with love and devotion for one another. Yes, there is a more beautiful thing than young love. Old love."
And the answer is given. "Yes, there is a more beautiful thing. It is the spectacle of an old man and an old woman finishing their journey together on that path. Their hands are gnarled, but still clasped; their faces are seamed, but still radiant; their hearts are physically bowed and tired, but still strong with love and devotion for one another. Yes, there is a more beautiful thing than young love. Old love."
I loved you enough
Some day when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I will tell them:
I loved you enough
to ask you about where you are going, with whom,
and what time you would get home.
I loved you enough
to insist that you buy a bike that we could afford to give you,
with your own money.
I loved you enough
to be silent and let you discover that your hand-picked friend was a creep.
I loved you enough
to make you return a Milky-Way, with a bite out of it,
to a drug store and tell them you stole this.
I loved you enough
to stand over you for 2 hours while you cleaned your room,
a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.
I loved you enough
to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust and tears in my eyes.
I loved you enough
to admit I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.
I loved you enough
to let you stumble, fall and hurt.
I loved you enough
to let you assume the responsibility for your actions at 6, 10 or 16.
But most of all,
I loved you enough to say NO, when you hated me for it.
That was the hardest part of all.
I loved you enough
to ask you about where you are going, with whom,
and what time you would get home.
I loved you enough
to insist that you buy a bike that we could afford to give you,
with your own money.
I loved you enough
to be silent and let you discover that your hand-picked friend was a creep.
I loved you enough
to make you return a Milky-Way, with a bite out of it,
to a drug store and tell them you stole this.
I loved you enough
to stand over you for 2 hours while you cleaned your room,
a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.
I loved you enough
to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust and tears in my eyes.
I loved you enough
to admit I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.
I loved you enough
to let you stumble, fall and hurt.
I loved you enough
to let you assume the responsibility for your actions at 6, 10 or 16.
But most of all,
I loved you enough to say NO, when you hated me for it.
That was the hardest part of all.
Be Thankful
I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn't hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 7 years was still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories.He often came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I'd always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands. He knew I loved yellow roses.
With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was different since he had passed on. Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two. Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered how he had loved his steak.
Suddenly a woman came beside me. She was blonde, slim and lovely in a soft green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back..
She turned to go and once again reached for the pack of steaks. She saw me watching her and she smiled. "My husband loves T-bones, but honestly, at these prices, I don't know." I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. "My husband passed away eight days ago," I told her.
Glancing at the package in her hands, I fought to control the tremble in my voice. "Buy him the steaks. And cherish every moment you have together."
She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the package in her basket and wheeled away.
I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy products. There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy.
Quart, I finally decided and moved on to the ice cream. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the front.
I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towards me. In her arms she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blonde hair as she kept walking toward me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw what she held and tears began misting in my eyes.
"These are for you," she said and placed three beautiful long stemmed yellow roses in my arms. "When you go through the line, they will know these are paid for." She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then smiled again.
I wanted to tell her what she'd done, what the roses meant, but still unable to speak, I watched as she walked away as tears clouded my vision.
I looked down at the beautiful roses nestled in the green tissue wrapping and found it almost unreal. How did she know? Suddenly the answer seemed so clear. I wasn't alone. Oh, you haven't forgotten me, have you? I whispered, with tears in my eyes. He was still with me, and she was his angel.
Every day be thankful for what you have and who you are.
A Dinner Date
After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you."The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.
That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. "What's wrong, are you well?" she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news. "I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you," I responded. "Just the two of us." She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much."
That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's. "I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting."
We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. "It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said.
"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded. During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie.
As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed.
"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.
A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates, one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son."
At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: "I LOVE YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some other time."
A Women's Secret
There was once a man and woman who had been married for more than 60 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about.
For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover....
In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoe box and took it to his wife's bedside. She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box.
When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $25,000.
He asked her about the contents.
"When we were to be married," she said, "my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll."
The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only Two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness......
"Honey," he said, "that explains the dolls, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?"
"Oh," she said, "that's the money I made from selling all the dolls..."
For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover....
In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoe box and took it to his wife's bedside. She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box.
When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $25,000.
He asked her about the contents.
"When we were to be married," she said, "my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll."
The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only Two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness......
"Honey," he said, "that explains the dolls, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?"
"Oh," she said, "that's the money I made from selling all the dolls..."
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