A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor.
Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.
Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and
returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups -
porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some...
expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the
coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:
"If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up,
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.
Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to
the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases
even hides what we drink.
What all of you really wanted was
coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... And
then you began eyeing each other's cups.
Now consider this:
Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the
cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup
we have does not define, nor change the quality of Life we live.
Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us."
God brews the coffee, not the cups.......... Enjoy your coffee!
"The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything."
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a
single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that
students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained
to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to
hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began
with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a
hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone
and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales
and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and
tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always
say, "My mom's going to hear me play someday." But it seemed hopeless.
He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a
distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him
up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.
Then one
day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but
assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue
something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad
advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to
the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise
Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I
told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had
dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom had been
sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still
practicing. "Miss Hondorf... I've just got to play!" he insisted. I
don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was
his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it
would be all right.
The night for the recital came. The high
school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put
Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the
students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would
do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his
poor performance through my "curtain closer."
Well, the recital
went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it
showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his
hair looked like he'd run an eggbeater through it. "Why didn't he dress
up like the other students?" I thought. "Why didn't his mother at least
make him comb his hair for this special night?"
Robby pulled
out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that
he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for
what I heard next. His fingers were light on pianissimo to
fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso.
His suspended chords that
Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well
by a person his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand
crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and
in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've
never heard you play like that Robby! How'd you do it?"
Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf...remember I
told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away
this morning. And well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first
time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special."
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from
Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, I
noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself
how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. No, I've
never had a protigi but that night I became a protigi... of Robby's. He
was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that taught me the
meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe
even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.
Our house was directly across the street from
the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived
downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the clinic.
One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the
door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly
taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared
at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face
... lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as
he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one
night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and
there's no bus 'til morning."
He told me he'd been hunting for a
room since noon but with no success. No one seemed to have a room. "I
guess it's my face ... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with
a few more treatments..."
For a moment I hesitated, but his next
words convinced me. "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch.
My bus leaves early in the morning."
I told him we would find him a
bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting
supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No
thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.
When I
had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him for a
few minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an
oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a
living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who
was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.
He didn't tell it by
way of complaint. In fact, every other sentence was preface with a
thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied
his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God
for giving him the strength to keep going.
At bedtime, we put a camp
cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the
bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch.
He refused breakfast. But just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as
if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay
the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep
fine in a chair."
He paused a moment and then added, "Your children
made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children
don't seem to mind."
I told him he was welcome to come again.
On
his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a
gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had
ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so
that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I
wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.
During the years he came to stay overnight with us, there was never a
time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his
garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special
delivery ... fish and oysters packed in a box with fresh young spinach
or kale ... every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three
miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts
doubly precious.
When I received these little remembrances, I often
thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that
first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned
him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!"
Maybe we
did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known
him, perhaps their illness' would have been easier to bear. I know our
family will always be grateful to have known him. From him, we learned
what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with
gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a
greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful
one of all ... a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my
great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket.
I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!" My friend changed my mind.
"I ran short of pots," she explained," and knowing how beautiful this
one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail.
It's just for a little while, until I can put it out in the garden."
She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was
imagining such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one,"
God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman.
"He won't mind starting in this small body."
All this happened long ago ... and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.
During the War, a US marine was separated from
his unit. The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the
crossfire he had lost atouch with his comrades.
Alone in the hills,
he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction. Scrambling for
cover, he found his way up a high ridge to several small caves in the
rock. Quickly he crawled inside one of the caves. Although safe...
for the moment, he realized that once the enemy soldiers looking for
him swept up the ridge, they would quickly search all the caves and he
would be killed.
As he waited, he prayed, "Lord, if it be your
will, please protect me. Whatever your will though, I love you and
trust you. Amen."
After praying, he lay quietly listening to
the enemy begin to draw close. He thought, "Well, I guess the Lord isn't
going to help me out of this one.." Then he saw a spider begin to build
a web over the front of his cave.
As he watched, listening to
the enemy searching for him all the while, the spider layered strand
after strand of web across the opening of the cave.
"Ha, he thought. "What I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent me is a spider web.
God does have a sense of humor."
As the enemy drew closer he watched from the darkness of his hideout
and could see them searching one cave after another. As they came to
his, he got ready to make his last stand. To his amazement, however,
after glancing in the direction of his cave, they moved on. Suddenly, he
realized that with the spider web over the entrance, his cave looked as
if no one had entered for quite a while. "Lord, forgive me," prayed the
young man. "I had forgotten that in you a spider's web is stronger than
a brick wall."
We all face times of great trouble. When we
do, it is so easy to forget the victories that God would work in our
lives, sometimes in the most surprising ways. As the great leader,
Nehemiah, reminded the people of Israel when they faced the task of
rebuilding Jerusalem,
"In God we will have success!" [Nehemiah 2:20]
When you were only 5 yrs old, I Said I Love You...
You asked me: "What Is It?"
When you were 15 yrs old, I Said I Love You....
You Blushed... You look down and smile…
When you were 20 yrs old, I Said I Love You....
You put your head on my shoulder and hold my hand…
afraid that I might disappear…
When you were 25 yrs old, I Said I Love You...
You prepare breakfast and serve it in front of me,
and kiss my forehead and said:
"You better be quick, It’s gonna be late…"
When you were 30 yrs old, I Said I Love You....
You said: "If u really love me, please come back early after work..."
When you were 40 yrs old, I Said I Love You...
You were cleaning the dining table and said: "Ok dear,
but it’s time for you to help our child with his/her revision..."
When you were 50 yrs old, I Said I Love You...
You were knitting and you laugh at me…
When you were 60 yrs old, I Said I Love You...
You smile at me…
When you were 70 yrs old, I Said I Love You...
We sitting on the rocking chair with our glasses on...
I’m reading your
love letter that you sent to me 50 yrs ago...
with our hand crossing
together…
When you were 80 Yrs Old, U Said U Love Me!
I didn’t say anything but rried.
We may not express it but when we say "I Love You" we want our partner also to say the same.
There are many ways of expressing love but nothing can play the same
magic that these 3 words can play when said in return ♥ ♥ ♥
Though living a more Godly life, still he was
not prospering materially. In fact, it seems that from the time of his
conversion more trouble, affliction and loss were sustained than ever
before. Everything seemed to be going wrong.
One day a friend
who was not a Christian stopped by to talk to him awhile. Sympathizing
with him in some of his trials, the friend said
"It seems
strange to me that so much affliction should pass over you just at the
time when you have become an earnest Christian. Of course, I don't want
to weaken your faith in God or anything like that. But here you are,
with God's help and guidance, and yet things seem to be getting steadily
worse. I can't help wondering why that is."
The blacksmith did
not answer immediately, and it was evident that he had thought the same
question before. But finally, he said,
"You see here the raw
iron which I have to make into horse's shoes. You know what I do with
it? I take a piece and heat it in the fire until it is red, almost white
with the heat. Then I hammer it unmercifully to shape it as I know it
should be shaped. Then I plunge it into a pail of cold water to temper
it. Then I heat it again and hammer it some more. And this I do until it
is finished."
"But sometimes I find a piece of iron that won't
stand up under this treatment. The heat and the hammering and the cold
water are too much for it. I don't know why it fails in the process, but
I know it will never make a good horse's shoe."
He pointed to a heap of scrap iron that was near the door of his shop.
"When I get a piece that cannot take the shape and temper, I throw it
out on the scrap heap. It will never be good for anything."
He went on,
"I know that God has been holding me in the fires of affliction and I
have felt His hammer upon me. But I don't mind, if only He can bring me
to what I should be. And so, in all these hard things my prayer is
simply this:
Try me in any way you wish, Lord, only don't throw me on the scrap heap."
---------------
The Refiner's Fire
“And I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them
as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall
call on my name, and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and
they shall say, The LORD is my God.” - Zechariah 13:9 (KJV)
The
process of refining metals is used in the Bible as a metaphor of
spiritual purification. In a sense, if you have something made of pure
gold or pure silver, it is made of the leftovers. Refining is a process
by which everything else is removed and only the pure metal remains. It
is accomplished through firing, putting the metal over the fire until it
is a liquid from which can be drawn all the dross.
Our lives are
not pure gold by any means. God's desire is that we be holy as He is
holy. That means there are things that need to be removed from our
lives.
It also means that He will assist in that process!
God's intent is not to destroy us but to purify us. Sometimes His method
is akin to the intense heat of the refiner's fire. Our response to the
process is crucial. We can either allow Him to work in our lives,
cooperating in removing that which is impure, or we can resist or rebel.
To His people, God sent the message through the prophet Zechariah
that He would "refine them like silver and test them like gold" (13:9).
That is painful, but look at the promise: "They will call on my name and
I will answer them; I will say, 'They are my people,' and they will
say, 'The LORD is our God.'" The blessing will be ours.
Don't
resist or rebel against God's refining fire. Learn from the tough times.
Look for the ways in which God is using your difficulties to refine
you.
After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie.
She said I love you but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you.
The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has
been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three
children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.
That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.
“What’s wrong, are you well,” she asked? My mother is the type of woman
who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign
of bad news.
“I thought that it would be pleasant to be with you,” I responded. ” Just the two of us.“
She thought about it for a moment, and then said, ” I would like that very much.“
That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit
nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed t hat she, too, seemed
to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on.
She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to
celebrate her last wedding anniversary.
She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel’s.
“I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they
were impressed, “she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to
hear about our meeting“.
We went to a restaurant that, although
not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she
were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Large
print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom
sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.
“It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said.
“Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded.
During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation – nothing
extraordinary, but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We
talked so much that we missed the movie.
As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.
“How was your dinner date?” asked my wife when I got home.
“Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.
A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I did to do anything for her.
Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined.
An attached note said: “I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that
I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates – one for you
and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant
for me. I love you, son.“
At that moment, I understood the
importance of saying in time: ” I LOVE YOU!” and to give our loved ones
the time that they deserve.
Nothing in life is more important
than God and your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these
things cannot be put off till “some other time.”
Once upon a time, two brothers who lived on
adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40
years of farming side-by-side, sharing machinery and trading labor and
goods as needed without a hitch.
Then the long collaboration
fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a
major difference and finally, it exploded into an exchange of bitter
words followed by weeks of silence.
One morning there was a
knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's
toolbox. "I 'm looking for a few days' work," he said. "Perhaps you
would have a few small jobs here and there I could help with? Could I
help you?"
"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for
you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor. In fact,
it's my younger brother! Last week there was a meadow between us. He
recently took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek
between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll do him one
better. See that pile of lumber by the barn? I want you to build me a
fence an 8-foot fence -- so I won't need to see his place or his face
anymore."
The carpenter said, "I think I understand the
situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able
to do a job that pleases you."
The older brother had to go to
town, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was
off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day -- measuring,
sawing and nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter
had just finished his job.
The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was no fence there at all.
It was a bridge .. A bridge that stretched from one side of the creek
to the other! A fine piece of work, handrails and all! And the neighbor,
his younger brother, was coming toward them, his hand outstretched..
"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done."
The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in
middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist
his toolbox onto his shoulder.
"No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.
"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but I have many more bridges to build."
Remember This...
God won't ask what kind of car you drove, but He'll ask how many people you helped get where they needed to go.
God won't ask the square footage of your house, but He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
God won't ask about the clothes you had in your closet, but He'll ask how many you helped to clothe.
God won't ask how many friends you had, but He'll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.
God won't ask in what neighborhood you lived, but He'll ask how you treated your neighbors.
God won't ask about the color of your skin, but He'll ask about the content of your character.
God won't ask why it took you so long to seek Salvation, but He'll
lovingly take you to your mansion in Heaven, and not to the gates of
hell.
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
One late night, I arrived at 2:30 a.m. to pick up a fare. The building
was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these
circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a
minute, and then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people
who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a
situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger
might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I
walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood
before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil
pinned on it, like somebody out of a 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 knicknacks 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.
There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his
desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the
front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because
he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened.. It's never happened
before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the
end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as
long as he lives.
The boy believes his heart is going to stop;
he puts his head down and prays this prayer, 'Dear God, this is an
emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat.'
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.
As the teacher is walking toward him, a class mate named Susie is
carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front
of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's
lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, 'Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!'
Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy
is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives
him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out..... All the other
children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The
sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that
should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You've done enough, you klutz!'
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the
boy walks over to Susie and whispers, 'You did that on purpose, didn't
you?' Susie whispers back, 'I wet my pants once too.'
May God help us see the opportunities that are always around us to do good..
Remember.....Just going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.
Each and everyone one of us is going through tough times right now, but
God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. Keep the
faith.
Let's continue to pray for one another.
One day, when I was a freshman in high
school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was
Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books, and I thought to
myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must
really be a nerd."
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and
a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my
shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running
toward him. They ran right up to him, knocking all his books out of his
arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying,
and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him.
Then he looked up, and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart
went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around
looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him
his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get a
life."
He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big
smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real
gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived.
As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen
him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would
have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the
way home, and I carried his books.
He turned out to be a
pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday
with me and my friends. He said yes. We hung all weekend and the more I
got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same
of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of
books again. I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build
some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!"
He
just laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four years,
Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, began to think
about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke.
I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a
problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a
football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class and I teased
him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for
graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.
On Graduation Day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of
those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out
and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all
the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of
those days.
I could see that he was nervous about his speech.
So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"
He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one), and
smiled. "Thanks," he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began.
"Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through
those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a
coach... but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that
being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going
to tell you a story."
I just looked at my friend with
disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met . He had planned
to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out
his locker, so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later, and was carrying
his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile.
"Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the
unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome,
popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and Dad
looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that
moment did I realize its depth.
Never underestimate the power
of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life.
For better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact
one another in some way. Look for God in others.
I was walking around in a Big Bazar store making shopping, when I saw a Cashier talking to a 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 me and asked: ''Uncle, are you sure I don't have enough money?''
I counted his cash and replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy the doll, my dear.'' 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 . I wanted to Gift her for her BIRTHDAY.
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 my sister 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 with out 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.'
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 news paper 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 news paper 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 exposed 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 the little boy and
the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever...
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.
Please DO NOT DRINK & DRIVE.
Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion,
shares a moving story about a skinny young boy who loved football with
all his heart. Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he
had. But being half the size of the other boys, he got absolutely
nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and
hardly ever played.
This teenager lived alone with his father,
and the two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the son
was always on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering.
He never missed a game.
This young man was still the smallest
of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to
encourage him but also made it very clear that he did not have to play
football if he didn't want to.
But the young man loved football
and decided to hang in there He was determined to try his best at every
practice, and perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All
through high school he never missed a practice nor a game but remained a
bench-warmer all four years.
His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.
When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the
football team as a "walk-on." Everyone was sure he could never make the
cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster
because he always puts his heart and soul to every practice, and at the
same time, provided the other members with the spirit and hustle they badly needed.
The news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he
rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his
excitement and was sent season tickets for all the college games.
This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four
years at college, but he never got to play in a game. It was the end of
his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field
shortly before the big playoff game, the coach met him with a telegram.
The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent.
Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning.
Is it all right if I miss practice today?" The coach put his arm gently
around his shoulder and said, "Take the rest of the week off, son. And
don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday."
Saturday
arrived, and the game was not going well. In the third quarter, when
the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into
the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the
sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their
faithful teammate back so soon. "Coach, please let me play. I've just
got to play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear
him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close playoff
game. But the young man persisted, and finally feeling sorry for the
kid, the coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in."
Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not
believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before
was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He
ran, he passed, blocked, and tackled like a star. His team began to
triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game,
this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning
touchdown.
The fans broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto
their shoulders. Such cheering you never heard. Finally, after the
stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room,
the coach noticed that this young man was sitting quietly in the corner
all alone The coach came to him and said,"Kid, I can't believe it. You
were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"
He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Well, you
knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?" The young man
swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today
was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I
could do it!"
Like the athlete's father, God is always there
cheering for us. He's always reminding us to go on. He's even offering
us His hand for He knows what is best, and is willing to give us what we
need and not simply what we want. God has never missed a single game.
What a joy to know that life is meaningful if lived for the Highest.
Live for HIM for He's watching us in the game of life!
A
frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in- law, and
four-year-old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was
blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the
table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made
eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he
grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and
daughter-in- law became irritated with the mess. 'We must do something
about father,' said the son. 'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy
eating, and food on the floor.' So the husband and wife set a small
table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the
family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his
food was served in a wooden bowl.
When the family glanced in
Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat
alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp
admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood
scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?'
Just as sweetly, the boy responded, “Oh, I am making a little bowl
for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.” The four-year-old
smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents
so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their
cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That
evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to
the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with
the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care
any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth
soiled
Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever
observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the
messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home
atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the
rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day the
building blocks are being laid for the child's future. Let's be wise
builders and role models.
“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” - Prov. 22:6
