Short of Change

Yesterday, I was on my way to the Nehru Place. I was excited and happy, for many reasons. One reason was because I found an auto-driver who agreed to charge according to the meter. The weather has take a cool turn and it was more-or-less cloudy which gave my burnt skin a salving respite from Delhi’s summer heat. The auto-driver was exercising his racing skills and it added to the fun. The speedometer was touching the likes of nineties and I was feeling that the auto-driver had some ulterior motives of setting some speed record or testing the agility of the tyres, until my body started experiencing the sudden forces of inertia. Yes, the auto driver had spotted the light change to red and we screeched to a sudden stop. ‘Tak-tak.’ A knock buzzed my ears.
I looked out of the auto. There was nobody. My eyes roved around until I saw a lathi with its master. I became a bit shocked after not being able to find a hand catching hold of its top-end. There was no hand at all. Instead it was just the arm-pit of his right hand that held that lathi; while the left hand, which was physically alright, was holding a stained plastic mug in hope of getting some coins.
‘I don’t have any change’’ These words came out of my tongue as a standard response to the many beggars I come in contact with. He looked at my eyes and oscillated his plastic mug in front of my eyes. It contained not more than six to seven rupees.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t have any change’ He dragged himself slowly away from me. I could see his rags, each of those shreds contained in itself untold stories about his life. Just at the moment he crossed the auto-driver, the auto-driver stopped him by holding his left-hand.
‘Babaji, take this. Get yourself something to eat.’ The auto-driver said handing over two coins of two rupees each to the Master of the lathi. I could see a divine smile on that old-man’s face which seemed to be reassuring the auto-driver that his act of kindness would be remembered forever.
I was dumbstruck and embarrassed at the same time. I was feeling poor in front of that speedster. Something seemed weird to me. My mind tried to find a reason. But it failed miserably. Meanwhile, the red light turned green and we sped off
‘Bhaiya, you embarrassed me! Why did you give money to that beggar? I mean…there are so many beggars in India…if you keep giving alms at every red-signal, how would you sustain yourself?’ I asked.
‘Saheb, I don’t give money to each and every beggar that happen to cross my eyes. This old-man’s condition was too worse. Have you ever thought how difficult it would have been to carry yourself if we had just one hand? Plus he was old, under-nourished and hungry. I just could not resist.’
‘Half of India is hungry. You can’t go and feed each of them.’ I said irritably.
‘You are right’ he said. ‘You can’t go and feed each of them. But, you can help at least one who is really in need.’
I didn’t like his logic. My ego just didn’t want to take lessons from an auto-driver. I chose to be quiet. The auto paced back to the nineties and my quietness remained my companion for the next ten minutes.
I reached Nehru Place. Fortunately, no more red lights hindered my cruise with the wind.
‘Saheb, it is 57 rupees on the meter. Do you have any change?’
‘Yes, I’ve change,’ I said with pride and extended my right hand to hand him the fare, and simultaneously said, ‘I am never short of change.’
He smiled and offered his left hand to collect the money. I was offended. ‘Bhaiya, at least extend your right hand.’ I said.
He extended his right hand and I poured down a fifty-rupees note with seven lustrous coins which when struck his palms gave a sonorous sound. It drew my attention towards it. The fibre -fabricated single-coloured palm with no lifelines at all and the plastic fingers unable to catch hold of the seven metal disks made a shiver of shock run through my whole body.
I looked up at him. Those eyes showed conviction and there was an unrealistically beautiful smile on his face. In that short moment, his heart touched mine.
He looked into my eyes and said, “Saheb. I wish that you’re never short of change!” and moved back to his auto to set a new speed record once again.
-Harsh Snehanshu

Burnt Toast

Life is full of imperfect things…and imperfect people…..
When I was a kid, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular, when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work.
On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned toasts in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his toast, smile at my mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite! When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the toasts. And I'll never forget what he said: "Honey, I love burned toasts." Later that night, I went to kiss Dad good night and I asked him if he really liked his toasts burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your Mom put in a hard day at work today and she was really tired. And besides - a little burnt toast never hurt anyone!"
Life is full of imperfect things.....and imperfect people. But accepting those imperfections in our friends, colleagues, children and spouses, and even learning to love them, is one of the keys to building a healthy, growing and lasting relationship.

This is Good!

The story is told of an African king and his close friend, who had grown up together. The king’s friend had a habit of looking at every situation positively and remarking,
“This is good!” One day the king went on a hunting expedition, and he gave his friend the job of loading his guns and handing them to him. Apparently the friend did something wrong at some point, because one gun misfired and blew the king’s thumb off.
“This is good!” the king’s friend remarked as usual.
“No, this is not good!” the king replied, and he sent his friend to jail.
About a year later, the king was hunting in an area that he shouldn’t have ventured into. Cannibals captured him and took him to their village. They tied his hands, bound him to a stake in the ground, and stacked firewood around his feet. However, just as they were about to set fire to the wood, they noticed that the king was missing a thumb. The cannibals had a superstition that forbad them from eating anyone who was less than whole, so they untied the king and sent him on his way.
As the king traveled home, he was reminded of the event that had taken his thumb, and he regretted the way he had treated his friend. He went straight to the jail and released his friend.
“You were right,” the king said. “It was good that my thumb was blown off.” And he proceeded to tell his friend about his brush with death. “I am sorry for sending you to jail for so long,” he said. “That was very bad of me!” “No,” his friend replied, “this is good!” “What do you mean, ‘This is good’? How could it be good that I sent my friend to jail for a year?” “If I had not been in jail,” the king’s friend replied, “I would have been with you.”

Ten things to Remember about Life

1] Prayer is not a "spare wheel" that you pull out when in trouble, but it is a "steering wheel" that directs the right path throughout
2] Do you know why a Car's WINDSHIELD is so large & the rear view mirror is so small? Because our PAST is not as important as your FUTURE. Look ahead and move on.
3] Friendship is like a BOOK. It takes few seconds to burn, but it takes years to write
4] All things in life are temporary. If things are going well, enjoy it-they will not last forever. If things are going wrong, don't worry-they can't last long either.
5] Old Friends are Gold! New Friends are Diamond! If you get a Diamond, don't forget the Gold! Because to hold a Diamond, you always need a Base of Gold!
6] Often when we lose hope and think this is the end, GOD smiles from above and says, "Relax, my child, it's just a bend in the road, not the end of the road.”
7] When GOD solves your problems, you have faith in HIS abilities; when GOD doesn't solve your problems HE has faith in your abilities.
8] Can there be anything worse than losing eye sight? Yes, losing your vision!
9] When you pray for others, God listens to you and blesses them, and sometimes when you are safe and happy, remember that someone has prayed for you.
10] WORRYING does not take away tomorrows' TROUBLES, it takes away today’s PEACE.

My Prayer for You this Christmas

God came down at Christmas in the form of a little baby…
No gift could fill your heart with all the special things you deserve, so this Christmas I offer a prayer instead, asking the One who knows your every need to give you His very best.
First I pray for your happiness. Not the fleeting kind that comes from happenings or new acquisitions, but deep abiding happiness that will be there even when nothing special is going on.
Next I pray for peace in your heart. I don't mean a lack of excitement, an empty feeling, or surcease from activity or challenge, but rather a sweet knowledge that God is in control, and that He won't let anything happen to you that you and He can't work out together—a quiet certainty that gives you rest inside, even when you are working hard or the pressure's on.
My prayer wouldn't be complete without praying for you to have faith. Some people think faith means blindness to reality—an overly optimistic outlook that denies the facts. But real faith, the kind I wish for you, is based on the most wonderful realities of all—God and His love and His promises to you. That kind of faith knows that God wants only the very best for you and will bring it to pass. That kind of faith comes from reading His Word. That's the kind of faith that moves mountains.
I pray for you to have wisdom and understanding, so that you can look at life around you and then to heaven above, and find the answers and explanations and guidance you need—God-given wisdom that gives you patience and faith for others and points the way in difficult moments.
And last but not least, I pray for you to experience love—great love, overflowing love, patient love, wise love, sweet love, fun love, exciting love, purposeful love, abiding love, strong love, encouraging love, God's love in all its wondrous forms.
God came down at Christmas in the form of a little baby to give us all these things—happiness, peace, faith, wisdom, and most of all, love. So my prayer is that this Christmas you will believe His promises, and experience all the wonders He has for you.

This Year

This year...
I'll take more time to laugh and smile, To feel the wind upon my face, To learn true wisdom from a child, Give my soul the needed space, To live life pure and clear... ...this year.
This year… I'll learn to turn off my computer, Interact with human beings, Spend less time in on-line stupor, More time learning, breathing, seeing All that life holds dear... ...this year. This year… I will resolve to write that letter That I have too long neglected, Make an aching heart feel better, Cheer a friend who feels dejected, Bring someone some cheer... ...this year. This year... I'll not be hijacked by my deadlines, Or imprisoned by ambitions. Or let dismal, gloomy headlines Dictate my heart's disposition. I'll choose faith, not fear... ...this year. This year... I'll see the struggling flower beneath The hard, frosty exterior Of one who lets frustration seethe Because they feel inferior. I'll try to draw them near... ...this year. This year... No high and mighty resolutions Fit for presidents and kings. I'll start a quiet revolution, Seek these simple loving things Above wealth or career... ...this year.

The Price

A young man who had graduated from university with honours went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.
He passed the first interview; the director did the last interview and made the final decision. He discovered from the CV that the youth's academic result was excellent all the way from secondary school until the postgraduate research, not a year did he not score.
The director asked, "Did you obtain any scholarship in school?" and the youth answered, "None." The director asked, "Was it your father who paid your school fees?" The youth answered, "My father passed away when I was one year old, it is my mother who paid my school fees. "
The director asked, "Where did your mother work?" The youth answered, "My mother worked as a clothes washer." The director requested the youth to show his hands, and the youth showed the director a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect.
The director asked, "Did you ever help your mother wash the clothes?" The youth answered, "Never. My mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than I can."
The director said, "I have a request; when you go back today, go and help to clean your mother's hands, and then see me tomorrow morning."
The youth felt that as the chances of landing the job were high, when he went home, he happily wanted to clean his mother's hands. His mother felt strange, happy but mixed with fear, she showed her hands to the youth.
The youth cleaned his mother's hands slowly, his tears dropping down as he did that. It was the first time he found his mother's hands so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises on her hands. Some bruises incited pains so strong that made his mother's body shiver when cleaned with water. This was the first time the youth realized and experienced that it was this pair of hands that washed clothes every day to earn him the school fees.
The bruises on the mother’s hands were the price that the mother paid for his graduation and academic excellence and probably his future.
After finishing the cleaning of his mother's hands, the youth quietly cleaned all the remaining clothes for his mother. That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.
Next morning, the youth went to the director's office. The director noticed the tear in the youth's eye, and asked:
"Can you tell me what you have done and learned yesterday in your house?" The youth answered, "I cleaned my mother's hands, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes." The director asked, "Please tell me your feelings."
The youth said:
Number 1, I knew what was appreciation; without my mother, there would not a successful me today.
Number 2, I knew how to work together with my mother, then only I could realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done.
Number 3, I knew the importance and value of family relationships.
The director said, "This is what I am asking; I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the suffering of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life to be my manager. You are hired."
Later on, this young person worked very hard and received the respect of his subordinates; every employee worked diligently and in a team, so that the company's results improved tremendously.
A child who has been protected and habitually given whatever he wanted develops "entitlement mentality" and always put himself first. He is ignorant of his parents' efforts.
When he starts work, he assumes every one must listen to him, and when he becomes a manager, he can never know the sufferings of his employees and he almost always blames others.
This kind of person can have good results, may be successful for a while, but eventually would not feel a sense of achievement, he will grumble and be full of hatred and fight for more. If we are this kind of protective parent, did we love the kid or destroy the kid? You can let your kid live in a big house, eat a good meal, learn piano, watch a big screen TV. But when you are cutting grass, please let them experience it. After a meal, let them wash their plate and bowl together with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you do not have money to hire a maid, but it is because you want to love them in a right way. You want them to understand, no matter how rich their parents are, one day their hair will grow grey, same as the mother of that young person.
The most important thing is that your child must learn how to appreciate the efforts and experience the difficulties and learn the ability to work with others to get things done.

Rotten Potatoes

A kindergarten teacher decided to let her class play a game.
The teacher told each child in the class to bring along a plastic bag containing a few potatoes.
Each potato was then given a name of a person that the child hates.
So the number of potatoes that a child will put in his/her plastic bag will depend on the number of people he/she hates.
So when the day came, each child brought some potatoes with the name of the people he/she hated. Some had 2 potatoes; some 3 while some up to 5 potatoes. The teacher then told the children to carry with them the potatoes in the plastic bag wherever they go (even to the toilet) for 1 week.
Days after days passed by, and the children started to complain due to the unpleasant smell let out by the rotten potatoes. Besides, those having 5 potatoes also had to carry heavier bags. After 1 week, the children were relieved because the game had finally ended....
The teacher asked: "How did you feel while carrying the potatoes with you for 1 week?" The children let out their frustrations and started complaining of the trouble that they had to go through having to carry the heavy and smelly potatoes wherever they go.
Then the teacher told them the hidden meaning behind the game. The teacher said:
"This is exactly the situation when you carry your hatred for somebody inside your heart. The stench of hatred will contaminate your heart and you will carry it with you wherever you go. If you cannot tolerate the smell of rotten potatoes for just 1 week, can you imagine what is it like to have the stench of hatred in your heart for your lifetime???"
Forgiving others is the best attitude to take!

Share Your Time

Share some time with those who need you. They need our time more then we will ever know.
A man came home from work late again, tired and irritated, to find his 5 year old son waiting for him at the door. "Daddy, may I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, sure, what is it?" replied the man.
"Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?
"That's none of your business! What makes you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily.
"I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy.
"If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour."
"Oh," the little boy replied, head bowed. Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I borrow $10.00 please?"
The father was furious. "If the only reason you wanted to know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you're being so selfish. I work long, hard hours everyday and don't have time for such childish games."
The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy's questioning. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money.
After an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his son. Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00, and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door. "Are you asleep son?" he asked.
"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy. "I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man. "It's been a long day and I took my aggravation out on you. Here's that $10.00 you asked for."
The little boy sat straight up, beaming. "Oh, thank you daddy!" he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some more crumpled up bills.
"Why did you want more money if you already had some?" the father grumbled.
"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied. "Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?"

Today

What today will be like is up to me
Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankful that the grass is getting watered for free.
Today I can feel sad that I don't have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.
Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.
Today I can lament over all that my parents didn't give me when I was growing up or I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.
Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.
Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon a quest to discover new relationships.
Today I can whine because I have to go to work or I can shout for joy because I have a job to do.
Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped. And here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping. What today will be like is up to me.

A True Valentine’s

The Greek language has various words for love. One of them is agape, meaning love without expecting anything in return. This is not selfish or self-serving love-it is selfless and unconditional. But is it possible? How can we not feel slighted when we don't receive the treatment we want or feel we deserve in return for some good deed? How can we not "keep score," or not desire recompense or at least a response? Little Chad was a shy, quiet young fellow. One day he came home and told his mother he'd like to make a Valentine's Day card for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, I wish he wouldn't do that! She had watched the children when they walked home from school, and her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other, but Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided she would go along with her son, so she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three whole weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made thirty-five valentines. Valentine's Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement! He carefully stacked up his Valentine's Day cards, put them in a bag, and bolted out the door. His mom decided to bake him his favourite cookies and serve them up warm and nice with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed-maybe the snack would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think that he wouldn't get many valentines himself, and maybe none at all. That afternoon she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, here they came, laughing and having the best time. And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual. She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed, and when the door opened she choked back the tears. "Mommy has some warm cookies and milk for you." But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he said was: "Not a single one! Not a single one!" Her heart sank. And then he added, "I didn't forget one, not a single one!" ************** Love means believing in someone, in something; it presupposes a willingness to struggle, to work, to suffer, and to rejoice. Love is doing everything you can to help others build whatever dreams they have. Love is on a constant journey to what others need. It must be attentive, caring, and open, both to what others say and to what others cannot say. Love will never reject others. It is the first to encourage and the last to condemn. Love is a commitment to growth, happiness, and fulfilment of one another.

On Watch

Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of Passage?
His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone. He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it.
He cannot cry out for help to anyone. Once he survives the night, he is a MAN.
He cannot tell the other boys of this experience, because each lad must come into manhood on his own. The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human might do him harm. The wind blows the grass and earth, and shakes his stump, but he sits stoically, never removing the blindfold. It is the only way he can become a man!
Finally, after a horrific night, the sun appears and he removes his blindfold. It is then that he discovers his father sitting on the stump next to him. He has been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.
We, too, are never alone. Even when we don't know it, God is watching over us, sitting on the stump beside us. When trouble comes, all we have to do is reach out to Him.
Remember, just because you can’t see God doesn’t mean He isn’t there.

True Love

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 a.m., when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.
I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him look at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.
On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound. While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation. I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer ’s disease. As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now. I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life." True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

The Last Cab Ride

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at the building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many poor people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
“Just a minute” answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it. 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 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 y 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 ld address, then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”
“Oh, you’re such a good boy” 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 neighbourhood 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 once gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular g. 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.”
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, 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 I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our live revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Get Back Up Pt 1

If you are one of those people who doubts yourself or feel that you have failed many times, please read the following story. It might just change your perspective.
On the 12th February, 1809, a man was born. His life is a great example of why we should never accept defeat or failure, no matter how many times we have to face them.
-His parents were poor pioneers
-He was largely self-educated
-He qualified as a lawyer but lost his job in 1832
-Defeated for legislature 1832
-Borrowed money to start a business but failed, 1833
-Elected to Legislature, 1834
-Was engaged to be married but his fiancé’ died in 1835
-Had a nervous breakdown and was in bed for 6 months, 1836
-Defeated for Speaker, 1838
-Defeated for nomination for Congress, 1843
-Elected to Congress, 1846
-Lost renomination, 1848
-Rejected for Land Officer, 1849
-Defeated for Senate, 1854
-Defeated for nomination for Vice President, 1856
-Again Defeated for Senate, 1858
-Elected President, 1860
-Ended Slavery in America
His name? Abraham Lincoln. He was one of the finest Presidents the US has ever had. Why? He got back up every time life kicked him down.

Get Back Up Pt. 2

Another story of overcoming adversity is Lance Armstrong, the famous cyclist.
-He contracted Testicular Cancer
-It spread to his lungs and brain.
-He beat it
-He went on to win the Tour de France 7 times consecutively.
-He retired unbeated in 2005 and came back in 2009 to finish 3rd place in the Tour de France.
-Created the yellow ‘Livestrong’ rubber wristband for his cancer charity.
-His rubber band idea started others.
-Blue for anti-bullying
-White for fighting poverty.
-Black and White for anti-racism
-Pink for Breast Cancer
-Red for The Heart Foundation.
Lance Armstrong is a great role model for people with cancer and people in sport. He could have let the testicular cancer beat him, but he got up and told the cancer he would be stronger.
.

Baby Giraffes

BABY giraffes never go to school. But they learn a very important lesson rather early in life, a lesson that all of us would do well to remember.
The birth of a baby giraffe is quite an earth-shaking event. The baby falls from its mother’s womb, some eight feet above the ground. It shrivels up and lies still, too weak to move.
The mother giraffe lovingly lowers her neck to smooch the baby giraffe. And then something incredible happens. She lifts her long leg and kicks the baby giraffe, sending it flying up in the air and tumbling down on the ground.
As the baby lies curled up, the mother kicks the baby again and again until the baby giraffe, still trembling and tired, pushes its limbs and for the first time learns to stand on its feet. Happy to see the baby standing on its own feet, the mother giraffe comes over and gives it yet another kick. The baby giraffe falls one more time, but now quickly recovers and stands up.
Why does the mother giraffe do this? She knows that lions and leopards love giraffe meat. So unless the baby giraffe quickly learns to stand and run with the pack – it will have no chance of survival.
Most of us though are not quite as lucky as baby giraffes. No one teaches us to stand up every time we fall. When we fail, when we are down, we just give up.
No one kicks us out of our comfort zone to remind us that to survive and succeed, we need to learn to get back on our feet.
If you study the lives of successful people though, you will see a recurring pattern. Were they always successful in all they did? No.
Did success come to them quick and easy? No, You will find that the common streak running through their lives is their ability to stand up every time they fall. The ability of the baby giraffe!
The road to success is never an easy one. There are several obstacles, and you are bound to fall sooner or later. You will hit a road block, you will taste failure. But success lies in being able to get up every time you fall.
That is a critical life skill. And it is the habit of all successful people.

What do you make?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.
One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?"
Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want to know what I make?" (She paused for a second, then began...)
"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
"I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.
"You want to know what I make?" (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table)
"I make kids wonder.
"I make them question.
"I make them apologize and mean it.
"I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.
"I teach them to write and then I make them write. Keyboarding isn't everything.
"I make them read, read, read.
"I make them show all their work in math. They use their God given brain, not the man-made calculator.
"I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know about English while preserving their unique cultural identity.
"I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.
"Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life." (Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)
"Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn't everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because they are ignorant. You want to know what I make? I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
"What do you make Mr. CEO?"
His jaw dropped, he went silent.

Disguised

The artist Michelangelo often stirred up the opposition of the contemporary artists of his day. Many of them envied his magnificent abilities. One example was the architect Bramante.
Pope Julius retained Michelangelo to build him a splendid tomb. Michelangelo gladly accepted the project and spent eight months in a marble pit personally cutting and selecting the most perfect stones. When he returned, he found the pope had second thoughts. Bramante had turned Pope Julius against the project. The Pope cancelled it.
Later the idea for another special project entered the Pope's mind. Bramante saw the project as a time consuming trap for which there would be little public recognition. Bramante recommended Michelangelo for the job.
The great artist saw the trap. He knew what Bramante was up to. He wished to turn the project down but did not want to refuse the Pope's request. So Michelangelo went to work. He spent many years doing the slow and tedious labor the project required. It was the Sistine Chapel, which soon became one of the most admired pieces of art and architecture the world has ever seen.
Sometimes what comes to us in life seems to be bad or negative. We soon learn however, that God’s greatest blessings sometimes comes disguised in difficult packaging.

The Name on the Mailbox

"Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." That's a saying I've long believed in. But there was a moment in my life that has led me to believe that if you're bold, sometimes even mysterious forces will come to your aid.
At that time, when my family was struggling, I sought a job with Oklahoma's Department of Human Services. This was a bold move, for I had no diploma, having dropped out of school to marry, but eventually I passed a test and got the job.
My assignment was locating and assisting needy families, and locating them was often difficult. This particular day in 1977, I'd heard of a needy family (no father present, little money or food, frightened mother and children) living near Lake Texoma. This was dangerous country, but I felt it my duty to find them. I drove all morning with little to guide me, and in this gun-crazy county you didn't just knock on any shack and ask for directions.
Finally, in the early afternoon I parked in the shade of a cottonwood tree and began to pray, asking God to direct me. I then looked down the lane I'd already driven over twice, and there was a lone mailbox plainly emblazoned with the family's name.
My visit went well; we'd be able to help this family with food and clothing. As I was leaving, the grateful mother marvelled that I'd found her house. "It wasn't hard," I said, "once I saw your name on the mailbox."
"My name?" the woman said to me, obviously mystified.
And going back to the road, I examined the mailbox again. There was no name. No name at all.

The Butterfly

I had been keeping the cocoon of a butterfly for nearly a year, when one day I noticed with excitement that the little insect was beginning to come out.
The Cocoon was very peculiar in its construction. There was just a very narrow opening left in the neck of the flask, through which the perfect butterfly would have to force its way.
Such a narrow opening compared to the size of the imprisoned insect made me wonder how the exit could be accomplished at all.
I watched it patiently striving and struggling to get out. It never seemed to be able to get beyond a certain point and at last my patience was exhausted. I thought I was wiser and more compassionate than its Maker, and I resolved to give it a helping hand.
With the point of a pair of scissors I snipped the confining threads to make the exit just a little bit easier. Immediately and with perfect ease, out crawled my butterfly, dragging a huge swollen body and little shrivelled wings.
I eagerly waited to see the marvellous process of expansion in which the wings develop before one’s eyes. I longed to see them assume their due proportions and the creature to appear in all its perfect beauty. But I looked in vain.
My poor butterfly was never anything but a stunted abortion, crawling painfully through its brief life when it should have been flying through the air on rainbow wings!
I learned later that the great labour and difficulty in passing through such a narrow opening is nature’s provision for forcing the juices into the vessels of the wings, which aren’t totally developed yet.
My false tenderness had proved its ruin. I often think back to that experience with the butterfly. Many times in life as I watch the dear ones around me struggle with sorrow, suffering or distress I do wish that somehow I could intervene and help to spare them from their troubles—but then I remember the butterfly and I’m reminded that God does all things well and does them for a purpose.

The Smile

I am a mother of three and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called "Smile."
The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway, so, I thought this would be a piece of cake, literally.
Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special play time with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did not move an inch...an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell, and there standing right behind me were two poor homeless men.
As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was "smiling". His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, "Good day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and the blue eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears as I stood there with them.
The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said, "Coffee is all Miss" because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm). Then I really felt it ~ the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action.
I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman's cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you." I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope." I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son.
When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me, Honey. To give me hope." We held hands for a moment and at that time we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given, were we able to give. We are not church goers, but we are believers. That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love.
I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it. Then she looked up at me and said, "Can I share this?" I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings and being part of God, share this need to heal people and be healed.
In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald's, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.
I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn: UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE. Much love and compassion is sent to each and every person who may read this and learn how to LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS~NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.

What He Valued Most

A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door. It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
"Jack, did you hear me?""Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.
"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him."I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said."You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said."He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral, "Jack said.
As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away. The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.
The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly."What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked."The box is gone," he said."What box? " Mom asked."There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box.
He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it."Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.
Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention."Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package.
There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside."Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box.
There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser.""The thing he valued most...was...my time."
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. "I need some time to spend with my son," he said."Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

A Child’s Angel

Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born. So one day he asked God:
They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless? Among the many angels, I chose one for you. She will be waiting for you and will take care of you.
But tell me, here in Heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile, that's enough for me to be happy. Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you everyday. And you will feel your angel's love and be happy.
And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if I don't know the language that men talk? Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.
And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you? Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray. I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me? Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life.
But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore. Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you.
At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly:
Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel's name Your angel's name is of no importance, you will call your angel: Mommy

A Little Girl on God

An atheist was seated next to a little girl on an airplane and he turned to her and said, "Do you want to talk? Flights go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger."
The little girl, who had just started to read her book, replied to the total stranger, "What would you like to talk about?"
"Oh, I don't know," said the atheist. "How about why there is no God, Heaven or Hell, or life after death?" as he smiled smugly.
"OK," she said. "Those could be interesting topics but let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff - grass. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, but a horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?"
The atheist, visibly surprised by the little girl's intelligence, thinks about it and said, "Hmmm, I have no idea."
To which the little girl replies, "Do you really feel qualified to discuss why there is no God, Heaven or Hell, or life after death when you don't know crap?"
And then she went back to reading her book.