By Kenneth L. Holmes
Just for today, I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle my whole life problem at once. I can do something for twelve hours that would appall me if I felt that I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
Just for today, I will be happy. This assumes to be true what Abraham Lincoln said, that most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.
Just for today, I will try to strengthen my mind. I will study. I will learn something useful. I will not be a mental loafer. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration.
Just for today, I will adjust myself to what is, and not try to adjust everything to my own desires. I will take my "luck" as it comes, and fit myself to it.
Just for today, I will exercise my soul in three ways: I will do somebody a good turn, and not get found out. I will do at least two things I don't want to--just for exercise. I will not show anyone that my feelings are hurt; they may be hurt, but today I will not show it
Just for today, I will be agreeable. I will look as well as I can, dress becomingly, talk low, act courteously, criticize not one bit, not find fault with anything and not try to improve or regulate anybody except myself.
Just for today, I will have a program. I may not follow it exactly, but I will have it. I will save myself from two pests: hurry and indecision.
Just for today, I will have a quiet half hour all by myself, and relax. During this half hour, sometime, I will try to get a better perspective of my life.
Just for today, I will be unafraid. Especially I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful, and to believe that as I give to the world, so the world will give to me.
Choices
by Byron Pulsifer
Choices. We all make them everyday. Some are good, and some are not so good. You can surrender your destiny to the desires of others, or you can make your own. The point is that we can make choices that help us to move forward through adversity, or we may make choices that assist others to move beyond or through some of life's issues.
On the other hand, inevitably at some point in our lives, we witness, first-hand, choices that other people, friends, family members or colleagues make that we can clearly see are leading them down a slippery slope to either immediate devastating consequences, or a future that can be potentially harmful.
As caring people, we probably have all made efforts to try and assist other individuals to change or alter a choice so they won't experience what we feel will be negative reactions, rejection, or, worse still, criminal prosecutions. While there is nothing inherently wrong or misguided about our good intentions, the ultimate choice people make is entirely up to them. We can't live other people's lives for them; we don't want to put ourselves in any position that appears or demonstrates that we own their problems or own their choices. These people own their own lives; they make the choices, good or bad.
Choices. We all make them everyday. Some are good, and some are not so good. You can surrender your destiny to the desires of others, or you can make your own. The point is that we can make choices that help us to move forward through adversity, or we may make choices that assist others to move beyond or through some of life's issues.
"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice;Choices are within everyone's command. No one has to do, or is obligated to live their lives as others live.
it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." by William Jennings Bryan
On the other hand, inevitably at some point in our lives, we witness, first-hand, choices that other people, friends, family members or colleagues make that we can clearly see are leading them down a slippery slope to either immediate devastating consequences, or a future that can be potentially harmful.
As caring people, we probably have all made efforts to try and assist other individuals to change or alter a choice so they won't experience what we feel will be negative reactions, rejection, or, worse still, criminal prosecutions. While there is nothing inherently wrong or misguided about our good intentions, the ultimate choice people make is entirely up to them. We can't live other people's lives for them; we don't want to put ourselves in any position that appears or demonstrates that we own their problems or own their choices. These people own their own lives; they make the choices, good or bad.
"Hold yourself responsible for a higher standard than anyone else expects of you.Choices. We make hundreds of choices in our lives. Other people make hundreds of choices. We might wish and hope that we can change other peoples' choices so they can avoid potential problems be that drug abuse, alcohol, relationships, parenting and on and on. But, we cannot make choices for others - what we can strive to do is offer constructive opinions or suggestions, when asked, or referrals to professionals who can assist in one's decision-making. A quote by W. Clement Stone may help you, or may help others keep moving forward through the never-ending maze of choices:
Never excuse yourself." by Henry Ward Beecher
"You always do what you want to do. This is true with every act.
You may say that you had to do something, or that you were forced to, but actually, whatever you do, you do by choice.
Only you have the power to choose for yourself."
Before I was a Mom
"Before I was a Mom,Happy Mother's Day to all the super Moms out there!
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom."
The speeding ticket
Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially.
Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand.
Bob ......Bob from Church !!
Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager
to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.
'Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.'
'Hello, Jack.' No smile.
'Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids.'
'Yeah, I guess.' Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
'I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this once.'
Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. 'Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?'
'I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct.'
Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
'What'd you clock me at?'
'Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?'
'Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65.' The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
'Please, Jack, in the car'
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window.
The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand
Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
'Thanks.' Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute. What was this ....... Some kind of joke !!
Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:
Life is precious.
Handle with care.
Drive safely and carefully.
Remember, cars are not the only things recalled by their maker.
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially.
Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand.
Bob ......Bob from Church !!
Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager
to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.
'Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.'
'Hello, Jack.' No smile.
'Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids.'
'Yeah, I guess.' Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
'I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this once.'
Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. 'Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?'
'I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct.'
Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
'What'd you clock me at?'
'Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?'
'Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65.' The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
'Please, Jack, in the car'
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window.
The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand
Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
'Thanks.' Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute. What was this ....... Some kind of joke !!
Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:
'Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters, all three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her again.Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.
A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had.
Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful, Jack, my son is all I have left.'
'Bob'
Life is precious.
Handle with care.
Drive safely and carefully.
Remember, cars are not the only things recalled by their maker.
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 7 Ups!
- Wake Up!! Decide to have a good day.
"This is the day the Lord hath made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it." ~ Psalms 118:24 - Dress Up!! The best way to dress up is to put on a smile. A smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks.
"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at outward appearance, But the Lord looks at the heart." ~ I Samuel 16:7 - Shut Up!! Say nice things and learn to listen. God gave us two ears and one mouth, So He must have meant for us to do twice as much listening as talking.
"He who guards his lips guards his soul." ~ Proverbs 13:3 - Stand Up!! . . . For what you believe in. Stand for something or you will fall for anything.
"Let us not be weary in doing good; for at the proper time, We will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good..." ~ Galatians 6:9-10 - Look Up !! . . . To the Lord.
"I can do everything through Christ who strengthens me". ~ Philippians 4:13 - Reach Up !! . . . For something higher.
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, And lean not unto your own understanding.
In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He will direct your path." ~ Proverbs 3:5-6 - Lift Up !! . . . Your Prayers.
"Do not worry about anything; instead PRAY ABOUT EVERYTHING." ~ Philippians 4:6
The Taxi Driver and his Passenger
When I drove up in my taxi cab at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many taxi drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away.
But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor..
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'.
'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now.'
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said.
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
Under these circumstances, many taxi drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away.
But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor..
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'.
'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now.'
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said.
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Give Thanks
For all that GOD, in mercy, sends
For health and children, homes and friends
For comfort in the time of need
For every kindly word and deed
For happy thoughts and holy talk
For guidance in our daily walk
For everything give thanks!
For beauty in this world of ours
For verdent green and lovely flowers
For song of birds, for hum of bees
For the refreshing summer breeze
For hill and plain, for stream and wood,
For the great ocean's mighty flood
For everything give thanks!
For the sweet sleep which comes with night
For the returning morning's light
For the bright sun that shines on high
For the stars glittering in the sky --
For these and everything we see
O Lord, our hearts we life to Thee
For everything give thanks!
For health and children, homes and friends
For comfort in the time of need
For every kindly word and deed
For happy thoughts and holy talk
For guidance in our daily walk
For everything give thanks!
For beauty in this world of ours
For verdent green and lovely flowers
For song of birds, for hum of bees
For the refreshing summer breeze
For hill and plain, for stream and wood,
For the great ocean's mighty flood
For everything give thanks!
For the sweet sleep which comes with night
For the returning morning's light
For the bright sun that shines on high
For the stars glittering in the sky --
For these and everything we see
O Lord, our hearts we life to Thee
For everything give thanks!
Harvard or Stanford U
A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband,dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment into the president of Harvard's outer office.
The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge.
She frowned. "We want to see the president," the man said softly. "He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped. "We'll wait," the lady replied. For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away.
They didn't. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted to do. "Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they'll leave," she told him.
And he sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple.
The lady told him, "We had a son that attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus."
The president wasn't touched, he was shocked. "Madam," he said gruffly. "We can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery". "Oh, no," the lady explained quickly. "We don't want to erect a statue.
We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard." The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard." For a moment the lady was silent.
The president was pleased. He could get rid of them now. And the lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a University? Why don't we just start our own?" Her husband nodded.
The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment. And Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the University that bears their name, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.
"You can easily judge the character of others by how they treat those who can do nothing for them or to them." Malcolm Forbes
The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge.
She frowned. "We want to see the president," the man said softly. "He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped. "We'll wait," the lady replied. For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away.
They didn't. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted to do. "Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they'll leave," she told him.
And he sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple.
The lady told him, "We had a son that attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus."
The president wasn't touched, he was shocked. "Madam," he said gruffly. "We can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery". "Oh, no," the lady explained quickly. "We don't want to erect a statue.
We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard." The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard." For a moment the lady was silent.
The president was pleased. He could get rid of them now. And the lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a University? Why don't we just start our own?" Her husband nodded.
The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment. And Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the University that bears their name, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.
"You can easily judge the character of others by how they treat those who can do nothing for them or to them." Malcolm Forbes
Slow Dance
This poem was written by a terminally ill teenage girl in a New York Hospital.
SLOW DANCE
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down..
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last...
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say, "Hi"
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift...
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
SLOW DANCE
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down..
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last...
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say, "Hi"
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift...
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
The Hot Chocolate Story
A group of graduates, well established in their careers, were talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, the conversation turned to complaints about stress in their work and lives. Offering his guests hot chocolate, the professor went into the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and an assortment of cups-porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite -- telling them to help themselves to the hot chocolate.
When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said: 'Notice that all the nice looking; expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that you're drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup; but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each others cups.
Now consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of life you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate we have. The happiest people don't have the best of everything.. They just make the best of everything that they have.
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.
And enjoy your hot chocolate!
When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said: 'Notice that all the nice looking; expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that you're drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup; but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each others cups.
Now consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of life you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate we have. The happiest people don't have the best of everything.. They just make the best of everything that they have.
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.
And enjoy your hot chocolate!
A boy, a doll and a white rose
I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back. The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.
The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.' Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: 'Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?'
The old lady replied: 'You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.'
Then she asked him to stay the re for just 5 minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.
Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.
'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'
I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.'
His eyes were so sad while saying this.
'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.'
My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.'
Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.'
'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.' Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.
I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?'
'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'
Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'
'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.'
'My mommy loves white roses.'
A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local new spaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.
The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away.
I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was expos ed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.
She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of th e little boy and the doll placed over her chest.
I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever.... The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.
And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.
The quote of the month is by Jay Leno:
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, 'Are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"
The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.' Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: 'Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?'
The old lady replied: 'You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.'
Then she asked him to stay the re for just 5 minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.
Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.
'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'
I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.'
His eyes were so sad while saying this.
'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.'
My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.'
Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.'
'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.' Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.
I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?'
'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'
Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'
'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.'
'My mommy loves white roses.'
A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local new spaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.
The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away.
I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was expos ed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.
She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of th e little boy and the doll placed over her chest.
I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever.... The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.
And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.
The quote of the month is by Jay Leno:
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, 'Are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"
The Wonderfulness of Me
If you took all the things that are special about me, you could put them all together and call it AD/HD. No better, no worse, just different that's me, I'm really not crazy, please try and see. Llike a talented wizard in a world full of "muggles", its no wonder all you see is frustration and struggles.
As I daydream and drift, you think no one's there, but nothing could be further from the truth, believe me, I swear. I see your impatience as my mind starts to wander bt you don't know the depth of the thoughts that I ponder. For creative thinkers, get lost in deep thought, which leads to illusion that they cannot be taught.
I know trying to reach me can give you the blues, but I wish for just once, you could walk in my shoes. To see things through my eyes, you would be amazed, at the speed and sheer volume my thoughts seem to blaze.
I'm not lazy or stupid, if only you knew, how truly difficult it is to limit myself and think like you do. But, I can see things that you'll never see, its like second nature to me, because I am me. With lightning fast reflexes, I can switch gears, to be firm and inflexible is the worst of my fears. I'm calm in a crisis and know just what to do. For I'm in great company, Mozart, Edison and Churchill to name just a few.
SOURCE
As I daydream and drift, you think no one's there, but nothing could be further from the truth, believe me, I swear. I see your impatience as my mind starts to wander bt you don't know the depth of the thoughts that I ponder. For creative thinkers, get lost in deep thought, which leads to illusion that they cannot be taught.
I know trying to reach me can give you the blues, but I wish for just once, you could walk in my shoes. To see things through my eyes, you would be amazed, at the speed and sheer volume my thoughts seem to blaze.
I'm not lazy or stupid, if only you knew, how truly difficult it is to limit myself and think like you do. But, I can see things that you'll never see, its like second nature to me, because I am me. With lightning fast reflexes, I can switch gears, to be firm and inflexible is the worst of my fears. I'm calm in a crisis and know just what to do. For I'm in great company, Mozart, Edison and Churchill to name just a few.
SOURCE
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