<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176</id><updated>2024-09-15T20:14:03.252-07:00</updated><category term="God"/><category term="angels"/><category term="miracles"/><category term="stories life cancer death boy child"/><title type='text'>Stories From My Email</title><subtitle type='html'>I get so much unsolicited email that contains short stories or anecdotes from friends and strangers. It is  at times annoying and at times filled with wisdom and ideas that makes you think and reflect. Rather than start putting them on the trash bin, I decided to pick out those that makes sense to me and copy them verbatim. I hope it becomes relevant to you as it did to me.&#xa;&#xa;                               - Virgilio Y Paralisan -</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-4619766151659995453</id><published>2009-07-08T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T17:50:32.217-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stories life cancer death boy child"/><title type='text'>The Gift of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;(Here&#39;s another story from my email from Noel Bagano again! And like the last time, you can blame me for the title.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: &#39;How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?&#39; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;The surgeon said, &#39;I&#39;m sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn&#39;t make it.&#39;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally said, &#39;Why do little children get cancer? Doesn&#39;t God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?&#39;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgeon asked, &#39;Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he&#39;s transported to the university.&#39;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. &#39;Would you like a lock of his hair?&#39; the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy&#39;s hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother said, &#39;It was Jimmy&#39;s idea to donate his body to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. &#39;I said no at first, but Jimmy said, &#39;Mom, I won&#39;t be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.&#39; She went on, &#39;My Jimmy had a heart of gold... Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could.&#39;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally walked out of Children&#39;s Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy&#39;s belongings on the seat beside her in the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy&#39;s belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son&#39;s room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Dear Mom,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you&#39;re going to miss me; but don&#39;t think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just &#39;cause I&#39;m not around to say &#39;I Love You&#39;.. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won&#39;t be so lonely, that&#39;s okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn&#39;t like the same things us boys do. You&#39;ll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don&#39;t be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn&#39;t look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God&#39;s knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That&#39;s when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn&#39;t allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you.. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him where was He when I needed him?&#39; &#39;God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I&#39;ve written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn&#39;t that cool? I have to give God His pen back now He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I&#39;m sure the food will be great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don&#39;t hurt anymore the cancer is all gone... I&#39;m glad because I couldn&#39;t stand that pain anymore and God couldn&#39;t stand to see me hurt so much, either. That&#39;s when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signed with Love from God, Jesus &amp;amp; Me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/4619766151659995453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/4619766151659995453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/4619766151659995453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/4619766151659995453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2009/07/gift-of-life.html' title='The Gift of Life'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-6906125132055956851</id><published>2008-11-14T19:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T19:40:52.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Angel On Top of the Christmas Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(This story was emailed by Pamela &quot;Pam&quot; Cayago, our computer graphics artist at the Centre for International Education. It was untitled, so there goes my version of the title.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;It was two weeks before Christmas when four of Santa&#39;s elves got sick. The trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the pre-Christmas pressure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Then Mrs Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out Heaven knows where. Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door,yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;The angel said very cheerfully, &quot;Merry Christmas, Santa.  Isn&#39;t this a lovely day?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/6906125132055956851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/6906125132055956851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/6906125132055956851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/6906125132055956851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/11/angel-on-top-of-christmas-tree.html' title='The Angel On Top of the Christmas Tree'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-7234445756700930019</id><published>2008-11-07T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T16:14:54.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(I can&#39;t remember who sent this story but I like it so I kept a copy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;After Sept. 11th,  one company invited the remaining members of  other companies who had been decimated by the attack on the Twin  Towers to share their available office space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;At a morning meeting, the head of security told stories of why these people were alive... and all the stories were just: the little things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;As you might know, the head of the company survived that day because his son started kindergarten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Another fellow was alive because it was his turn to bring donuts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One woman was late because her alarm clock didn&#39;t go off in time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One was late because of being stuck on the NJ Turnpike because of an auto accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One of them missed his bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One spilled food on her clothes and had to take time to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One&#39;s car wouldn&#39;t start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One went back to answer the telephone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One had a child that dawdled and didn&#39;t get ready as soon as he should have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;One couldn&#39;t get a taxi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;The one that struck me was the man who put on a new pair of shoes that morning, took the various means to get to work but before he got there, he developed a blister on his foot. He stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid. That is why he is alive today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Now when I am stuck in traffic, miss an elevator, turn back to answer a ringing telephone... all the little things that annoy me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I think to myself, this is exactly where God wants me to be at this very moment..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Next time your morning seems to be going wrong, the children are slow getting dressed, you can&#39;t seem to find the car keys, you hit every traffic light, don&#39;t get mad or frustrated; God is at&lt;br /&gt;work watching over you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;May God continue to bless you with all those annoying little things and may you remember their possible purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/7234445756700930019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/7234445756700930019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7234445756700930019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7234445756700930019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-things.html' title='The Little Things'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-8114821412117282981</id><published>2008-11-05T14:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T14:45:20.073-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="angels"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="miracles"/><title type='text'>Filling In for An Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(This very short story was emailed to me by a friend, Lito Radam, a consultant for enterprise development.I had to give it a title.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I was driving home from a meeting this evening at about 5:00, stuck in traffic on Colorado Boulevard and the car started to choke and splutter and die - I barely managed to coast, cursing, into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn&#39;t even turn  over. Before I could make the call, I saw a  woman walking out of the &#39;quickie mart&#39; building, and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a gas pump, so I got out to see if she  was okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;She  dropped something as I helped her up, and I  picked it up to give it to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;It was a nickel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;At that moment, everything came into focus for me:  the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I asked her if she was okay and if  she needed help, and she just kept saying: &#39;Don&#39;t want my kids to see me crying&#39;, so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;She said she  was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now. So I asked, &#39;And you were  praying?&#39; That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, &#39;He heard you, and He sent me.&#39;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I took out my card and swiped it through the  card reader on the pump so she could fill up  her car completely, and while it was fuelling, walked to the next door McDonald&#39;s and bought 2 big  bags of food, some gift certificates for  more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food  to the kids in the Car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by  the pump eating fries and talking a little . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City. Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she  had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn&#39;t have money to pay rent Jan  1, and finally in desperation had finally called her parents, with whom she had not  spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and said she  could come live with them and try to get on  her feet there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;So she packed up everything she  owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, she said, &#39;So, are you like an angel or something?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;This definitely made me cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I  said, &#39;Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;It was so incredible to be a part of someone  else&#39;s miracle. And of course, you guessed  it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I&#39;ll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the  mechanic won&#39;t find anything wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of  their wings... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/8114821412117282981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/8114821412117282981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/8114821412117282981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/8114821412117282981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/11/filling-in-for-angel.html' title='Filling In for An Angel'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-1327241191567994427</id><published>2008-10-26T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T22:46:04.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trading Our Blessings with Marbles</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(This one is from Noel Bagano, a graduate of the Masters in Management programme of the Centre for International Education. Like other stories with no title, I took the liberty of coining the title for this one.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.  I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean,hungrily apprizing a basket of freshly picked green peas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.. Pondering the peas, I couldn&#39;t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the storeowner) and the ragged boy next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Hello, Barry, how are you today?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;H&#39;lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya.  Jus&#39; admirin&#39; them peas.  They sure look good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;They are good, Barry.  How&#39;s your Ma?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Fine. Gittin&#39; stronger alla&#39; time.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Good. Anything I can help you with?&#39; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;No, Sir. Jus&#39; admirin&#39; them peas.&#39; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Would you like to take some home?&#39; asked Mr. Miller. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;No, Sir.. Got nuthin&#39; to pay for &#39;em with.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;All I got&#39;s my prize marble here.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Is that right? Let me see it,&#39; said Miller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Here &#39;tis. She&#39;s a dandy.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?&#39; the store owner asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Not zackley but almost.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble,&#39; Mr. Miller told the boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller...&#39;  Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile said, &#39;There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. &#39; &#39;When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn&#39;t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man.  A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.  Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.  Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agreed to accompany them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could..  Ahead of us in line were three young men.  One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all Very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband&#39;s casket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband&#39;s bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket. &#39;Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim&#39;traded&#39; them.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt. &#39;We have never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,&#39; she confided,&#39;but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.&#39; With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles: An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys found right where you left them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived!  May you scatter sunshine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can stand on what we think is our property line and survey what we own... when in reality what we see is what we owe thankfulness for... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/1327241191567994427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/1327241191567994427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/1327241191567994427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/1327241191567994427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/10/trading-our-blessings-with-marbles.html' title='Trading Our Blessings with Marbles'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-2199847493793604550</id><published>2008-10-24T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T20:45:28.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Angel&#39;s Advice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(This one is from Noel Bagano, a graduate of the Masters in Management programme of the Centre for International Education. I took the liberty of coining the title.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;An Angel says, &#39;Never borrow from the future. If you worry about what may happen tomorrow and it doesn&#39;t happen, you have worried in vain. Even if it does happen, you have to worry twice.&#39; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;1. Pray. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;2. Go to bed on time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;3. Get up on time so you can start the day unrushed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;4. Say No to projects that won&#39;t fit into your time schedule, or that will compromise your mental health. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;5. Delegate tasks to capable others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;6. Simplify and unclutter your life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;7. Less is more. (Although one is often not enough, two are often too many.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;8. Allow extra time to do things and to get to places. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;9. Pace yourself. Spread out big changes and difficult projects over time; don&#39;t lump the hard things all together. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;10. Take one day at a time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;11. Separate worries from concerns. If a situation is a concern, find out what God would have you do and let go of the anxiety. If you can&#39;t do anything about a situation, forget it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;12. Live within your budget; don&#39;t use credit cards for ordinary purchases. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;13. Have backups; an extra car key in your wallet, an extra house key buried in the garden, extra stamps, etc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;14. K.M.S. (Keep Mouth Shut). This single piece of advice can prevent an enormous amount of trouble. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;15. Do something for the Kid in You everyday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;16. Carry a Bible with you to read while waiting in line. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;17. Get enough rest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;18. Eat right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;19 Get organized so everything has its place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;20. Listen to a tape while driving that can help improve your quality of life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;21. Write down thoughts and inspirations. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;22. Every day, find time to be alone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;23. Having problems? Talk to God on the spot. Try to nip small problems in the bud. Don&#39;t wait until it&#39;s time to go to bed to try and pray. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;24. Make friends with Godly people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;25. Keep a folder of favorite scriptures on hand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;26. Remember that the shortest bridge between despair and hope is often a good &#39;Thank you Jesus .&#39; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;27. Laugh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;28. Laugh some more! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;29. Take your work seriously, but not yourself at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;30. Develop a forgiving attitude (most people are doing the best they can).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;31. Be kind to unkind people (they probably need it the most). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;32. Sit on your ego. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;33. Talk less; listen more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;34. Slow down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;35. Remind yourself that you are not the general manager of the universe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;36 Every night before bed, think of one thing you&#39;re grateful for that you&#39;ve never been grateful for before. GOD HAS A WAY OF TURNING THINGS AROUND FOR YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&#39;If God is for us, who can be against us?&#39; (Romans 8:31)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/2199847493793604550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/2199847493793604550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2199847493793604550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2199847493793604550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/10/angels-advice.html' title='An Angel&#39;s Advice'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-2503678792703545568</id><published>2008-09-16T00:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T04:05:39.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fastest Growing Crime in America Today!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Practically anyone who is born in this day and age will have a piece of information about him kept in a database somewhere. Your birthday, address, social security, tax identification, mortgage, school records, driving citations, credit application, loan application and even your prescription. There&#39;s always some form of data or information about us kept in some database somewhere. If those sets of information are assumed by someone else besides you then someone just practically stole your whole life and everything that goes with it--credit ratings included.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;We take for granted a lot of information we give away in some forms, applications or even over the phone in a public booth. It never occurred to us that those pieces of information in the wrong hands can mean someone can assume our identity and do almost anything with it like apply for a loan, use our credit, subscribe for membership in clubs, or commit crime in our name.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Identity theft is defined by the ID Theft Act (18 U.S.C. § 1028(a)(7), 1029(e)) and by FTC Rule 16 C.F.R. § 603.2, and includes the misuse or attempted misuse of any identifying information – such as the SSN, biometric data, or an existing credit card account number - to commit fraud.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;According to the Federal Trade Commission in its 2006 Identity Report &quot;approximately 8.3 million U.S. adults discovered that they were victims of some form of ID theft in 2005.&quot;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;In the United States alone it was estimated that 15 million people (or 1 in 20) have their identity compromised in 2006. The University of Texas - Arlington Alumni Association in 2006 believed that 100,000,000 people have been affected by losses of personal data in the last 20 months prior to November of that year. 5 million of these are from university losses so much so that Arlington Alumni Association enrolled their 130,000 alumni throughout the U.S. in an Identity Theft Protection service provided by LifeLock.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;==============================================&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;font size=&quot;2&quot;&gt;&lt;a style=&quot;TEXT-DECORATION: none;&quot; href=&quot;http://www.sysnito.com/?crid=119675&amp;linkID=48&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;LifeLock&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;® helps consumers to render their personal information useless to thieves, backing up its service with a one million-dollar service guarantee. Famous for its CEO giving out his Social Security Number in advertising and national press, the company is experiencing astounding growth. Located in a secure facility in Tempe, Arizona, LifeLock is a private company backed by Goldman Sachs, Kleiner Perkins Caufield and Byers, as well as Bessemer Venture Partners. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;==============================================&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Here are some relevant information from the United States Federal Trade Commission (FTC)&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;How do thieves steal an identity?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;According to a Federal Trade Commission advisory, identity theft starts with the misuse of your personally identifying information such as your name and Social Security number, credit card numbers, or other financial account information. For identity thieves, this information is as good as gold. Skilled identity thieves may use a variety of methods to get hold of your information, including:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ol&gt; &lt;li&gt;Dumpster Diving. They rummage through trash looking for bills or other paper with your personal information on it.  &lt;li&gt;Skimming. They steal credit/debit card numbers by using a special storage device when processing your card.  &lt;li&gt;Phishing. They pretend to be financial institutions or companies and send spam or pop-up messages to get you to reveal your personal information.  &lt;li&gt;Changing Your Address. They divert your billing statements to another location by completing a change of address form.  &lt;li&gt;Old-Fashioned Stealing. They steal wallets and purses; mail, including bank and credit card statements; pre-approved credit offers; and new checks or tax information. They steal personnel records, or bribe employees who have access.  &lt;li&gt;Pretexting. They use false pretenses to obtain your personal information from financial institutions, telephone companies, and other sources. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;What do thieves do with a stolen identity?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Once they have your personal information, identity thieves use it in a variety of ways.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Credit card fraud:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;They may open new credit card accounts in your name. When they use the cards and don&#39;t pay the bills, the delinquent accounts appear on your credit report.  &lt;li&gt;They may open new credit card accounts in your name. When they use the cards and don&#39;t pay the bills, the delinquent accounts appear on your credit report.  &lt;li&gt; &lt;li&gt;They may change the billing address on your credit card so that you no longer receive bills, and then run up charges on your account. Because your bills are now sent to a different address, it may be some time before you realize there&#39;s a problem. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Phone or utilities fraud:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;They may open a new phone or wireless account in your name, or run up charges on your existing account.  &lt;li&gt;They may use your name to get utility services like electricity, heating, or cable TV. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bank/finance fraud:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;They may create counterfeit checks using your name or account number.  &lt;li&gt;They may open a bank account in your name and write bad checks.  &lt;li&gt;They may clone your ATM or debit card and make electronic withdrawals in your name, draining your accounts.  &lt;li&gt;They may take out a loan in your name. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Government documents fraud:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;They may get a driver&#39;s license or official ID card issued in your name but with their picture.  &lt;li&gt;They may use your name and Social Security number to get government benefits.  &lt;li&gt;They may file a fraudulent tax return using your information. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Other fraud:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;They may get a job using your Social Security number.  &lt;li&gt;They may rent a house or get medical services using your name.  &lt;li&gt;They may give your personal information to police during an arrest. If they don&#39;t show up for their court date, a warrant for arrest is issued in your name. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;p&gt;How can you find out if your identity was stolen?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The best way to find out is to monitor your accounts and bank statements each month, and check your credit report on a regular basis. If you check your credit report regularly, you may be able to limit the damage caused by identity theft.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Unfortunately, many consumers learn that their identity has been stolen after some damage has been done.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;You may find out when bill collection agencies contact you for overdue debts you never incurred.  &lt;li&gt;You may find out when you apply for a mortgage or car loan and learn that problems with your credit history are holding up the loan.  &lt;li&gt;You may find out when you get something in the mail about an apartment you never rented, a house you never bought, or a job you never held.  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;=================================&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot; size=&quot;2&quot;&gt;&lt;a style=&quot;TEXT-DECORATION: none;&quot; href=&quot;http://www.ftc.gov/&quot;&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;The Federal Trade Commission (FTC) works for the consumer to prevent fraudulent, deceptive, and unfair business practices in the marketplace and to provide information to help consumers spot, stop, and avoid them. To file a complaint or to get free information on consumer issues, visit www.ftc.gov or call toll-free, 1-877-FTC-HELP (1-877-382-4357); TTY: 1-866-653-4261. The FTC enters Internet, telemarketing, identity theft, and other fraud-related complaints into Consumer Sentinel, a secure, online database available to hundreds of civil and criminal law enforcement agencies in the U.S. and abroad.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;font color=&quot;#000080&quot;&gt;====================================&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;!-- multiply:no_crosspost --&gt;&lt;p class=&#39;multiply:no_crosspost&#39;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/2503678792703545568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/2503678792703545568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2503678792703545568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2503678792703545568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/09/fastest-growing-crime-in-america-today.html' title='The Fastest Growing Crime in America Today!'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-5806784213264801275</id><published>2008-06-30T03:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T15:23:43.911-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Link Between Man and God is Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;;font-family:arial;font-size:78%;&quot;  &gt;&lt;strong&gt;(This conversation between a professor and a new young student was passed on to me by a colleague Teacher Eva Adolfo of the Centre for International Education.)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;An Atheist Professor of Philosophy was speaking to his Classroom the Problem Science haswith GOD, the ALMIGHTY.  He asked one of his New Christian Students to stand and . . .    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   You are a Christian, aren&#39;t you, son ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :    So, you Believe in GOD ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   Absolutely, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :    Is GOD Good ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :    Sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :    Is GOD ALL - POWERFUL ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :    Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :    My Brother died of Cancer even though he Prayed to  GOD to Heal him.                      Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill.  But GOD didn&#39;t. How is this GOD good then? Hmm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;(Student was silent )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   You can&#39;t answer, can you ?  Let&#39;s start again, Young Fella.  Is GOD Good? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   Is Satan good ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   Where does Satan come from ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   From . . . GOD . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   That&#39;s right.  Tell me son, is there evil in this World?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :    Evil is everywhere, isn&#39;t it ? And GOD did make everything. Correct?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Student    :   Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   So who created evil ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;(Student did not answer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;Professor :   Is there Sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness?  All these terrible things exist in the World, don&#39;t they?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   So, who Created them ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Student had no answer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :  Science says you have 5 Senses you use to Identify and Observe the World around you. Tell me, son . . . Have you ever Seen GOD?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  No, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor   :  Tell us if you have ever Heard your GOD?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  No , sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   Have you ever Felt your GOD, Tasted your GOD, Smelt your GOD?  Have you ever had any Sensory Perception of GOD for that matter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   No, sir. I&#39;m afraid I haven&#39;t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   Yet you still Believe in HIM?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol,  Science says your GOD doesn&#39;t exist.  What do you say to that, son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  Nothing.  I only have my Faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :  Yes, Faith..  And that is the Problem Science has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   Professor, is there such a thing as Heat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   And is there such a thing as Cold?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student   :   No, sir. There isn&#39;t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The Lecture Theatre became very quiet with this turn of events )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   Sir, you can have Lots of Heat, even More Heat, Superheat, Mega Heat, White Heat,   a Little Heat or No Heat.  But we don&#39;t have anything called Cold.  We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero which is No Heat, but we can&#39;t go any further after that. There is no such thing as Cold. Cold is only a Word we use to describe the Absence of Heat.  We cannot Measure Cold.  Heat is Energy.  Cold is Not the Opposite of Heat, sir, just the Absence of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(There was Pin-Drop Silence in the Lecture Theatre)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  What about Darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as Darkness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :  Yes. What is Night if there isn&#39;t Darkness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  You&#39;re wrong again, sir.  Darkness is the Absence of Something. You can have Low Light,  Normal Light, Bright Light, Flashing Light . . .  But if you have No Light constantly, you have nothing and its called Darkness, isn&#39;t it?  In reality, Darkness isn&#39;t.  If it is, were you would be able to make Darkness Darker, wouldn&#39;t you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   So what is the point you are making, Young Man ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student   :   Sir, my point is your Philosophical Premise is flawed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   Flawed ? Can you explain how?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality. You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a Good GOD and a Bad GOD. You are viewing the Concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure.  Sir, Science can&#39;t even explain a Thought. It uses Electricity and Magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view Death as the Opposite of Life is to be ignorant of the fact that Death cannot exist as a Substantive Thing. Death is Not the Opposite of Life: just the Absence of it. Now tell me, Professor, do you teach your Students that they evolved from a Monkey?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes, of course, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The Professor shook his head with a Smile, beginning to realize where the Argument was going )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :   Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work and Cannot even prove that this Process is an On-Going Endeavor,  Are you not teaching your Opinion, sir? Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The Class was in Uproar )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  Is there anyone in the Class who has ever seen the Professor&#39;s Brain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The Class broke out into Laughter )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor&#39;s Brain, Felt it, touched or Smelt it? . . .  No one appears to have done so.  So, according to the Established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that You have No Brain, sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then Trust your Lectures, sir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The Room was Silent. The Professor stared at the Student, his face unfathomable)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor :   I guess you&#39;ll have to take them on Faith, son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student    :  That is it sir . . Exactly !  The Link between Man &amp;amp; GOD is FAITH. That is all that Keeps Things Alive and Moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That student was Albert Einstein.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/5806784213264801275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/5806784213264801275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/5806784213264801275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/5806784213264801275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/06/link-between-man-and-god-is-faith.html' title='The Link Between Man and God is Faith'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-1318873176475183407</id><published>2008-06-26T18:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T18:17:50.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Small Story...On Borrowed Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Here&#39;s another story from a colleague from the Centre for International Education, Janice dela Cerna. I tweaked the title a bit for more impact.)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year old son waiting for him at the door. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SON: &#39;Daddy, may I ask you a question?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: &#39;Yeah sure, what it is?&#39; replied the man.&lt;br /&gt;SON: &#39;Daddy, how much do you make an hour?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: &#39;That&#39;s none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?&#39; the man said angrily.&lt;br /&gt;SON: &#39;I just want to know.. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: &#39;If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;SON: &#39;Oh,&#39; the little boy replied, with his head down.&lt;br /&gt;SON: &#39;Daddy, may I please borrow $10.00 ?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father was furious, &#39;If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money 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 are being so selfish. I work hard everyday for such this childish behaviour.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy&#39;s questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think: Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00 and he really didn&#39;t ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy&#39;s room and opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Are you asleep, son?&#39; He asked.&#39;No daddy, I&#39;m awake,&#39; replied the boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;I&#39;ve been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier&#39; said the man.&#39;It&#39;s been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. Here&#39;s the $10.00 you asked for.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy sat straight up, smiling. &#39;Oh, thank you daddy!&#39; He yelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills. The man saw that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, and then looked up at his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Why do you want more money if you already have some?&#39; the father grumbled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Because I didn&#39;t have enough, but now I do,&#39; the little boy replied.&#39;Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little son, and he begged for his forgiveness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s just a short reminder to all of you working so hard in life. We should not let time slip through our fingers without having spent some time with those who really matter to us, those close to our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;Do remember to share that $20.00 worth of your time with someone you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days.&lt;br /&gt;But the family &amp;amp; friends we leave behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/1318873176475183407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/1318873176475183407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/1318873176475183407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/1318873176475183407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/06/just-small-storyon-borrowed-time.html' title='Just a Small Story...On Borrowed Time'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-2226922146797194710</id><published>2008-02-15T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T22:00:47.709-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love and Hate through a Mother&#39;s Eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(This story was emailed to me by Noel Bagano, a graduate of the Masters in School Management of the Centre for International Education. There was no title in the email so I gave it mine. Find out why I gave it the title.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom only had one eye. I hated her... She was such an embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;She cooked for students and teachers to support the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say hello to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could she do this to me?  I ignored her, threw her a hateful look and ran out. The next day at school one of my classmates said, &quot;Eeeeee, your mom only has one eye!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to bury myself. I also wanted my mom to just disappear.. I confronted her that day and said, &quot; If you&#39;re only gonna make me a laughing stock, why don&#39;t you just die?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom did not respond....&lt;br /&gt;I didn&#39;t even stop to think for a second about what I had said, because I was full of anger. I was oblivious to her feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her. So I studied real hard, got a chance to go abroad to study. Then, I got married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a house of my own.. I had kids of my own. I was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts, Then one day, my Mother came to visit me. She hadn&#39;t seen me in years and she didn&#39;t even meet her Grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she stood by the door, my children laughed at her, and I yelled at Her for coming over uninvited. I screamed at her, &quot;How dare you come to my house and scare my Children!&quot; GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to this, my mother quietly answered, &quot;Oh, I&#39;m so sorry. I may have gotten the wrong address,&quot; And she disappeared out of sight. One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I lied to my wife that I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went to the old shack just out of curiosity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My neighbors said that she died. I did not shed a single tear. They handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&quot;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#333333;&quot;&gt;My dearest son,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of you all the time. I&#39;m sorry that I came to your house and scared your children. I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I may not be able to even get out of bed to see you. I&#39;m sorry that I was a constant embarrassment to you when you were growing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see........when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost your eye. As a mother, I couldn&#39;t stand watching you having to grow up with one eye. So I gave you mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all my love to you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Mother&lt;/span&gt;&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/2226922146797194710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/2226922146797194710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2226922146797194710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2226922146797194710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/02/love-and-hate-through-mothers-eye.html' title='Love and Hate through a Mother&#39;s Eye'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-4427303753940705569</id><published>2008-02-14T00:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T00:40:13.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Testimony of a Wife: A Valentine Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(&lt;em&gt;This story was emailed by Teacher Eva Adolfo of the Centre for International Education who also got this from someone else. Well as the title goes, this is a Valentine Story. Sorry I can’t help myself because it’s Valentine.&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;My husband is an Engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature, and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders. Three years of courtship and now, two  years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons of me loving him before, has now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings, I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband, is my complete opposite, his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce. &quot;Why?&quot; he asked, shocked. &quot;I am tired, there are no reasons for everything in the world!&quot; I answered. He kept silent the whole night, seems to be in deep thought with a lighted cigarette at all times. My feeling of disappointment only increased, here was a man who can&#39;t even express his predicament, what else can I hope from him? And finally he asked me:&quot; What can I do to change your mind?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody said it right, it&#39;s hard to change a person&#39;s personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him. Looking deep  into his eyes I slowly answered : &quot;Here is the question, if you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind, Let&#39;s say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death, will you do it for me?&quot; He said :&quot; I will give you your answer tomorrow....&quot; My hopes just sank by listening to his response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting, underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door, that goes.... My dear, &quot;I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further..&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This first line was already breaking my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued reading. &quot;When you use the computer you always mess up the Software programs, and you cry in front of the screen, I have to saved my fingers so that I can help to restore the programs. You always leave the house keys behind, thus I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way. You always have the cramps whenever your &quot;good friend&quot; approaches every month, I have to save my palms so that I can calm the cramps in your tummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom. You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails, and help to remove those annoying white hairs. So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand... and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the color of the glow on your young face... Thus, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do... I could not pick that flower yet, and die..&quot; My tears fell on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting... and as I continue on reading...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Now, that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside bringing your favorite bread and fresh milk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rush to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone... That&#39;s life, and love. When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love shows up in all forms, even very small and cheeky forms, it has never been a model, it could be the most dull and boring form.. . flowers, and romantic moments are only used and appear on the surface of the relationship. Under all this, the pillar of true love stands... and that&#39;s our life... Love, not words win arguments...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/4427303753940705569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/4427303753940705569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/4427303753940705569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/4427303753940705569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/02/testimony-of-wife-valentine-story.html' title='Testimony of a Wife: A Valentine Story'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-6703811485826146907</id><published>2008-02-02T04:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T04:45:34.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don&#39;t Let the Rain Stop You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;(This story was forwarded to me by a former colleague, Cathy Estores. I changed the title a bit.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside, as well as pouring down rain. The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said; &quot;OK dad, I&#39;m ready.&quot; His Pastor dad asked, &quot;Ready for what?&quot; &quot;Dad, it&#39;s time we gather our tracts together and go out.&quot; Dad responds, &quot;Son, it&#39;s very cold outside and it&#39;s pouring down rain.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking &quot;But Dad, aren&#39;t people still going to Hell, even though it&#39;s raining?&quot; Dad answers, &quot;Son, I am not going out in this weather.&quot; Despondently, the boy ask, &quot;Dad, can I go? Please?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His father hesitated for a moment then said, &quot;Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, be careful son.&quot;  &quot;Thanks Dad!&quot; And with that, he was off and out into the rain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract. After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were totally deserted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell, but nobody answered. He rang it again and again, but still no one answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He waited but still no answer. Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He waited, something holding him there on the front porch. He rang again and this time the door slowly opened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked &quot;What can I do for you, son?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said: &quot;Ma&#39;am, I&#39;m sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that *JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU* and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She called to him as he departed. &quot;Thank you, son! And God Bless You!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, &quot;Does anybody have testimony or want to say anything?&quot; Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face, &quot;No one in this church knows me. I&#39;ve never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing on that chair, so lonely and brokenhearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought, &quot;I&#39;ll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.&quot; I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought to myself again, &quot;Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder. When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His SMILE, oh, I could never describe it to you! The words that came from his mouth caused my heart that had long been dead,TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, &quot;*Ma&#39;am, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU*.&quot; Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn&#39;t be needing them any more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see &quot;I am now a Happy Child of the KING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the address of your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract; I have come here to personally say THANK YOU TO God&#39;s little angel who came just in the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from eternity in hell.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated. He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably no church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love &amp;amp; honor for his son... Except for One. This Father also allowed His Son to go out into a cold and dark world. He received His Son back with joy unspeakable, and as all of heaven Shouted praises and honor to The King, the Father sat His beloved Son on a throne far above all principality and power and every name that is named.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/6703811485826146907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/6703811485826146907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/6703811485826146907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/6703811485826146907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2008/02/dont-let-rain-stop-you.html' title='Don&#39;t Let the Rain Stop You!'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-1355531303270903556</id><published>2007-10-06T03:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T03:23:26.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast at McDonalds</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;(&lt;em&gt;This story was emailed by a colleague in development work, Caesar Atienza. It is a story for everyone who wants to give hope to another human being&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last class I had to take was Sociology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her last project of the term was called, &#39;Smile.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald&#39;s one crisp March morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I turned around I smelled a horrible &#39;dirty body&#39; smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was &#39;smiling&#39;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God&#39;s Light as he searched for acceptance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, &#39;Good day&#39; as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I held my tears as I stood there with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, &#39;Coffee is all Miss&#39; 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).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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&#39;s cold hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, &#39;Thank you.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, &#39;I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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, &#39;That is why God gave you to me, Honey, to give me hope.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are not church goers, but we are believers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day showed me the pure Light of God&#39;s sweet love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned in &#39;my project&#39; and the instructor read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she looked up at me and said, &#39;Can I share this?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 to be healed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald&#39;s, my son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn: UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/1355531303270903556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/1355531303270903556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/1355531303270903556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/1355531303270903556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2007/10/breakfast-at-mcdonalds.html' title='Breakfast at McDonalds'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-2763791704451427642</id><published>2007-10-05T04:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T04:46:58.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Medical Bill Paid in Full with A Glass of Milk</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;(&lt;em&gt;This story was emailed to me by Glenda Francisco a lady I work with in Makati City&lt;/em&gt;. I had to give it another title.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it so slowly, and then asked, &quot;How much do I owe you?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;You don&#39;t owe me anything,&quot; she replied &quot;Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said ... &quot;Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many year &#39;s later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dressed in his doctor&#39;s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a long struggle, the battle was won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent t o her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words. &quot;Paid in full with one glass of milk&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: &quot;Thank You God, that Your love has spread broad through human hearts and hands.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good deed you do today may benefit you or someone you love at the least expected time. If you never see the deed again at least you will have made the world a better place - And, after all, isn&#39;t that what life is all about?&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/2763791704451427642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/2763791704451427642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2763791704451427642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/2763791704451427642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2007/10/medical-bill-paid-in-full-with-glass-of.html' title='A Medical Bill Paid in Full with A Glass of Milk'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-7619513462899014726</id><published>2007-10-04T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T04:38:04.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Window with A Different View</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;(&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here’s one sent by one of my closest friend, Siony Hijara. The original email had a subject “A Good One” but I thought of giving it another title to reflect a message that I saw between the lines&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A great note for all to read, it will take just 37 seconds to read this and change your thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His bed was next to the room&#39;s only window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men talked for hours on end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although the other man couldn&#39;t hear the band- he could see it. In his mind&#39;s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days and weeks passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. Only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It faced a blank wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asked the nurse what could have made his deceased roommate, describe such wonderful things outside this window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, &quot;Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you and add colour to your life&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Epilogue:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&quot;There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can&#39;t buy&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Today is a gift, that&#39;s why it is called present.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/7619513462899014726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/7619513462899014726' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7619513462899014726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7619513462899014726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2007/10/window-with-different-view.html' title='A Window with A Different View'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-7761317735189112173</id><published>2007-10-03T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T23:02:54.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Human Beings vs Human Doings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;(&lt;em&gt;This is an email from a colleague, Malou Tan Wong.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;This is an absolutely incredible interview with Rick Warren, &quot;Purpose Driven Life&quot; author and pastor of Saddleback Church in California. His wife now has cancer, and he now has &quot;wealth&quot; from the book sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the interview by Paul Bradshaw with Rick Warren, Rick said: People ask me, What is the purpose of life? And I respond: In a nutshell, life is preparation for eternity. We were made to last forever, and God wants us to be with Him in Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day my heart is going to stop, and that will be the end of my body-- but not the end of me. I may live 60 to 100 years on earth, but I am going to spend trillions of years in eternity. This is the warm-up act - the dress rehearsal. God wants us to practice on earth what we will do forever in eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were made by God and for God, and until you figure that out, life isn&#39;t going to make sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is a series of problems: Either you are in one now, you&#39;re just coming out of one, or you&#39;re getting ready to go into another one. The reason for this is that God is more interested in your character than your comfort. God is more interested in making your life holy than He is in making your life happy. We can be reasonably happy here on earth, but that&#39;s not the goal of life. The goal is to grow in character, in Christ likeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past year has been the greatest year of my life but also the toughest, with my wife, Kay, getting cancer. I used to think that life was hills and valleys - you go through a dark time, then you go to the mountaintop, back and forth. I don&#39;t believe that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than life being hills and valleys, I believe that it&#39;s kind of like two rails on a railroad track, and at all times you have something good and something bad in your life. No matter how good things are in your life, there is always something bad that needs to be worked on. And no matter how bad things are in your life, there is always something good you can thank God for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can focus on your purposes, or you can focus on your problems. If you focus on your problems, you&#39;re going into self-centeredness, &quot;which is my problem, my issues, my pain.&quot; But one of the easiest ways to get rid of pain is to get your focus off yourself and onto God and others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We discovered quickly that in spite of the prayers of hundreds of thousands of people, God was not going to heal Kay or make it easy for her. It has been very difficult for her, and yet God has strengthened her character, given her a ministry of helping other people, given her a testimony, drawn her closer to Him and to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to learn to deal with both the good and the bad of life. Actually, sometimes learning to deal with the good is harder. For instance, this past year, all of a sudden, when the book sold 15 million copies, it made me instantly very wealthy. It also brought a lot of notoriety that I had never had to deal with before. I don&#39;t think God gives you money or notoriety for your own ego or for you to live a life of ease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I began to ask God what He wanted me to do with this money, notoriety and influence. He gave me two different passages that helped me decide what to do, II Corinthians 9 and Psalm 72.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, in spite of all the money coming in, we would not change our lifestyle one bit. We made no major purchases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, about midway through last year, I stopped taking a salary from the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, we set up foundations to fund an initiative we call, The Peace Plan to plant churches, equip leaders, assist the poor, care for the sick, and educate the next generation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourth, I added up all that the church had paid me in the 24 years since I started the church, and I gave it all back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was liberating to be able to serve God for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to ask ourselves: Am I going to live for possessions?  Popularity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I going to be driven by pressures? Guilt? Bitterness? Materialism?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or am I going to be driven by God&#39;s purposes (for my life)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I get up in the morning, I sit on the side of my bed and say, God, if I don&#39;t get anything else done today, I want to know You more and love You better. God didn&#39;t put me on earth just to fulfill a to-do list. He&#39;s more interested in what I am than what I do. That&#39;s why we&#39;re called human beings, not human doings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy moments, PRAISE GOD. Difficult moments, SEEK GOD. Quiet moments,&lt;br /&gt;WORSHIP GOD. Painful moments, TRUST GOD. Every moment, THANK GOD.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/7761317735189112173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/7761317735189112173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7761317735189112173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7761317735189112173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2007/10/human-beings-vs-human-doings.html' title='Human Beings vs Human Doings'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2761606567528610176.post-7580673239225274267</id><published>2007-10-02T21:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T21:43:32.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God Listens</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;(&lt;em&gt;This story was sent by a friend of mine, Cathy Estores, and speaks about a person&#39;s question: Does God Actually Listen?&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord&#39;s voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man couldn&#39;t help but wonder, &quot;Does God still speak to people?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about ten o&#39;clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, &quot;God.If you still speak to people speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He shook his head and said out loud, &quot;God is that you?&quot; He didn&#39;t get a reply and started on toward home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn&#39;t recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.&quot; It didn&#39;t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, &quot;Turn Down that street.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half jokingly, he said out loud, &quot;Okay, God, I will&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in semi commercial area of town. It wasn&#39;t the best but it wasn&#39;t the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, he sensed something, &quot;Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.&quot; The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.&quot; Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, he opened the door, &quot;Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don&#39;t answer right away, I am out of here.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man&#39;s voice yelled out, &quot;Who is it? What do you want?&quot; Then the door opened before the young man could get away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn&#39;t seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. &quot;What is it?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, &quot;Here, I brought this to you.&quot; The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man began speaking and half crying, &quot;We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn&#39;t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wife in the kitchen yelled out, &quot;I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man&#39;s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knew that God still answers prayers.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/feeds/7580673239225274267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2761606567528610176/7580673239225274267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7580673239225274267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2761606567528610176/posts/default/7580673239225274267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesfrommyemail.blogspot.com/2007/10/god-listens.html' title='God Listens'/><author><name>Virgilio Paralisan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04906486454809879550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio28mCPzPp96e1T3-qIii71vHVLuDKOtkqpVD79VyHfaPc8LcQEuIgFFA7zDEq6oFln5FhiB5KwQp6VcIgBX1Sm98rja4kdWPDr_2mVm1_0cYG5h85l3FfYJyiZbHG-Q/s113/vyp.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>