THE THINKING SOUL !!!

A Beautiful Love Story.....

2012-01-31T09:53:00.000+05:30

One day, a young guy and a young girl fell in love.

But the guy came from a poor family. The girl’s parents weren’t too happy.

So the young man decided not only to court the girl but to court her parents as well. In time, the parents saw that he was a good man and was worthy of their daughter’s hand.

But there was another problem: The man was a soldier. Soon, war broke out and he was being sent overseas for a year. The week before he left, the man knelt on his knee and asked his lady love, “Will you marry me?” She wiped a tear, said yes, and they were engaged. They agreed that when he got back in one year, they would get married.

But tragedy struck. A few days after he left, the girl had a major vehicular accident. It was a head-on collision.

When she woke up in the hospital, she saw her father and mother crying. Immediately, she knew there was something wrong.

She later found out that she suffered brain injury. The part of her brain that controlled her face muscles was damaged. Her once lovely face was now disfigured. She cried as she saw herself in the mirror. “Yesterday, I was beautiful. Today, I’m a monster.” Her body was also covered with so many ugly wounds.

Right there and then, she decided to release her fiancé from their promise. She knew he wouldn’t want her anymore. She would forget about him and never see him again.

For one year, the soldier wrote many letters—but she wouldn’t answer. He phoned her many times but she wouldn’t return her calls.

But after one year, the mother walked into her room and announced, “He’s back from the war.”

The girl shouted, “No! Please don’t tell him about me. Don’t tell him I’m here!”

The mother said, “He’s getting married,” and handed her a wedding invitation.

The girl’s heart sank. She knew she still loved him—but she had to forget him now.

With great sadness, she opened the wedding invitation.

And then she saw her name on it!

Confused, she asked, “What is this?”

That was when the young man entered her room with a bouquet of flowers. He knelt beside her and asked, “Will you marry me?”

The girl covered her face with her hands and said, “I’m ugly!”

The man said, “Without your permission, your mother sent me your photos. When I saw your photos, I realized that nothing has changed. You’re still the person I fell in love. You’re still as beautiful as ever. Because I love you!”

Author Unknown

Excerpt from Charles Sykes....

2012-01-25T10:29:00.002+05:30

    On the rules of life for graduates....

    Some have said this was from Bill Gates talk to high school graduates
    but probably he did not say this unless he quoted Sykes.

    RULE 1.

    Life is not fair; get used to it.

    RULE 2.

    The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you
    to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

    RULE 3.

    You will NOT make 40 thousand dollars a year right out of high school OR
    college. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone, until you earn
    both.

    RULE 4.

    If you think your teacher is tough, wait until you get a boss. He
    doesn't have tenure.

    RULE 5.

    Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a
    different word for burger flipping; they called it opportunity.

    RULE 6.

    If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your
    mistakes, learn from them.

    RULE 7.

    Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now.
    They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and
    listening to you talk about how cool you are. So before you save the
    rain forest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try
    "delousing" the closet in your own room.

    RULE 8.

    Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has
    not. In some schools they have abolished failing grades; they'll give
    you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear
    the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

    RULE 9.

    Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very
    few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. Do that on
    your own time.

    RULE 10.

    Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave
    the coffee shop and go to jobs.

    RULE 11.

    Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Live & Work.....

2012-01-17T09:57:00.001+05:30

Father was a hardworking man who delivered bread as a living to support his wife and three children. He spent all his evenings after work attending classes, hoping to improve himself so that he could one day find a better paying job. Except for Sundays, Father hardly ate a meal together with his family. He worked and studied very hard because he wanted to provide his family with the best money could buy.

Whenever the family complained that he was not spending enough time with them, he reasoned that he was doing all this for them. But he often yearned to spend more time with his family.

The day came when the examination results were announced. To his joy, Father passed, and with distinctions too! Soon after, he was offered a good job as a senior supervisor which paid handsomely.

Like a dream come true, Father could now afford to provide his family with life’s little luxuries like nice clothing, fine food and vacation abroad.

However, the family still did not get to see father for most of the week. He continued to work very hard, hoping to be promoted to the position of manager. In fact, to make himself a worthily candidate for the promotion, he enrolled for another course in the open university.

Again, whenever the family complained that he was not spending enough time with them, he reasoned that he was doing all this for them. But he often yearned to spend more time with his family.

Father’s hard work paid off and he was promoted. Jubilantly, he decided to hire a maid to relieve his wife from her domestic tasks. He also felt that their three-room flat was no longer big enough, it would be nice for his family to be able to enjoy the facilities and comfort of a condominium. Having experienced the rewards of his hard work many times before, Father resolved to further his studies and work at being promoted again. The family still did not get to see much of him. In fact, sometimes Father had to work on Sundays entertaining clients. Again, whenever the family complained that he was not spending enough time with them, he reasoned that he was doing all this for them. But he often yearned to spend more time with his family.

As expected, Father’s hard work paid off again and he bought a beautiful condominium overlooking the coast of Singapore. On the first Sunday evening at their new home, Father declared to his family that he decided not to take anymore courses or pursue any more promotions. From then on he was going to devote more time to his family.

Father did not wake up the next day.

Courtesy:- Internet

The Teacher......

2012-01-08T10:04:00.001+05:30

Stories like this, always have a way of putting the right perspective on life.

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkept and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant.

It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then marking the F at the top of the paper biggest of all. Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him, either.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's records and put Teddy's off until last. When she opened his file, she was in for a surprise. His first-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well-liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem, but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on Teddy Stoddard.

Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissored grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents.

Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."

After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and speaking. Instead, she began to teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to one they all called "Teddy."

As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the class and...well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his favorite. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy.

He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite teacher, but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that Spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering...well, if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom. And guess what, she wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And I bet on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like...well, just like the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas together.

THE MORAL: You never can tell what type of impact you may make on another's life by your actions or lack of action. Consider this fact in your venture thru life.

Courtesy: Internet

Mean Mom....

2012-01-03T09:13:00.002+05:30

I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate
candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also.

But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two
brothers had the same mean mother as I did.

My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute. I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you imagine someone actually hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now you can begin to see how mean she really was.

We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends?

The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night
and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.

She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and
nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.

By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if I'd had a boyfriend to elope with. I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned mother refused to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen, that is, if you dated only to go to a school function. And that was maybe twice a year.

Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie
in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends
had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends' report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for nothing less than ugly black marks.

As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put
to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out.

My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four
children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a million and one other things that our friends did.

She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults. Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three
children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my
children call me mean.

Because, you see, I thank God,
He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world.

Written by Bobbie Pingaro (1967)

Christmas Envelope.....

2011-12-25T16:20:00.002+05:30

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas-oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it-overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma-the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

    Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

    Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented
    a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he
    swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them."

    Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition-one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas,
    and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always
    the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

    As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and
    someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

    May we all remember the Christmas spirit this year and always.

Helpless Love....

2011-12-16T09:37:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time all feelings and emotions went to a coastal island for a vacation. According to their nature, each was having a good time. Suddenly, a warning of an impending storm was announced and everyone was advised to evacuate the island.

The announcement caused sudden panic. All rushed to their boats. Even damaged boats were quickly repaired and commissioned for duty.

Yet, Love did not wish to flee quickly. There was so much to do. But as the clouds darkened, Love realised it was time to leave. Alas, there were no boats to spare. Love looked around with hope.

Just then Prosperity passed by in a luxurious boat. Love shouted, “Prosperity, could you please take me in your boat?”

“No,” replied Prosperity, “my boat is full of precious possessions, gold and silver. There is no place for you.”

A little later Vanity came by in a beautiful boat. Again Love shouted, “Could you help me, Vanity? I am stranded and need a lift. Please take me with you.”

Vanity responded haughtily, “No, I cannot take you with me. My boat will get soiled with your muddy feet.”

Sorrow passed by after some time. Again, Love asked for help. But it was to no avail. “No, I cannot take you with me. I am so sad. I want to be by myself.”

When Happiness passed by a few minutes later, Love again called for help. But Happiness was so happy that it did not look around, hardly concerned about anyone.

Love was growing restless and dejected. Just then somebody called out, “Come Love, I will take you with me.” Love did not know who was being so magnanimous, but jumped on to the boat, greatly relieved that she would reach a safe place.

On getting off the boat, Love met Knowledge. Puzzled, Love inquired, “Knowledge, do you know who so generously gave me a lift just when no one else wished to help?”

Knowledge smiled, “Oh, that was Time.”

“And why would Time stop to pick me and take me to safety?” Love wondered.

Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and replied, “Because only Time knows your true greatness and what you are capable of. Only Love can bring peace and great happiness in this world.”

“The important message is that when we are prosperous, we overlook love. When we feel important, we forget love. Even in happiness and sorrow we forget love. Only with time do we realize the importance of love. Why wait that long? Why not make love a part of your life today?”

Author Unknown

Child's Definition of LOVE...

2011-12-10T11:41:00.001+05:30

        A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:

        "When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca - age 8

        When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4

        "Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5

        "Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6

        "Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4

        Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7

        "Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8

        "Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen," Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)

        "If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate," Nikka - age 6

        "There are two kinds of love. Our love. God's love. But God makes both kinds of them." Jenny - age 8

        "Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." Noelle - age 7

        "Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6

        "During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore," Cindy - age 8

        "My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6

        "Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine -age 5

        "Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7

        "Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4

        "I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4

        "When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7

        "Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." Mark - age 6

        "You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget," Jessica - age 8

        Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Bobby's Gift

2011-12-04T10:55:00.001+05:30

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. Bobby didn't wear boots; he didn't like them and anyway he didn't own any. The thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor
job of keeping out the cold.

Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already. And, try as
he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas
gift. He shook his head as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do
come up with an idea, I don't have any money to spend.

Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five
had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there
just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far.

What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made
up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older and one younger
sister, who ran the household in their mother's absence.

All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their
mother. Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he had nothing.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk
down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being
six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to.

Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated window.
Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to
get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his
eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off of
something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime.

Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment.
As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire
body and he walked into the first store he saw. His excitement quickly
turned cold when salesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buy anything with only a dime.

He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner
asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you."

As Bobby waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers.

The sound of the door closing as the last customer left, jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid.

Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before
Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and
tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box.

"That will be ten cents young man," the shop owner said reaching out his
hand for the dime. Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime.
Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his dime!
Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?"

This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box
into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son."

As he returned inside, the shop keepers wife walked out. "Who were you
talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?" Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime.

When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too was a poor boy
with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars.

When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and I
put together a dozen of my very best roses."

The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all.

Keep On Singing....

2011-11-28T09:41:00.001+05:30

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy.

    The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then The labor pains come. Every five minutes ... every minute. But Complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital,Knoxville, Tennessee.

    The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby - now they plan a funeral.

    Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says. Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If

    he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive. She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed. The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glaressteel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving

    until he sings to his sister!" Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings:

    "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray --- "

    Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady.

    Keep on singing, Michael. "You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away---" The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.

    Keep on singing, Michael. "The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her.

    Keep on singing, Michael. Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't, take my sunshine away."

    Funeral plans are scrapped. The next, day-the very next day-the little girl is well enough to go home!

    Woman's Day magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love!

    NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE.

The TIP !!!

2011-11-18T11:16:00.001+05:30

Two Nickels and Five Pennies In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

Mothers

2011-11-14T14:04:00.001+05:30

         "Somebody"Said...

    … a mother is an unskilled laborer.
    "Somebody" never gave a squirmy infant a bath.

    ... you know how to be a mother by instinct.
    Somebody never took a three-year-old shopping.

    ... that "good" mothers never yell at their kids.
    Somebody's child never sent a baseball through a neighbor's picture window.

    ... a mother can End all the answers to her child-rearing questions in books.
    Somebody never had a child stuff beans in his nose.

    ... a mother always adores her children.
    Somebody never tried to comfort a colicky baby at 3 a.m.

    ... a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back.
    Somebody never organized seven giggling Brownies into a cookie-selling brigade.

    ... the hardest part of being a mother is labor and delivery.
    Somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of kindergarten.

    ... your mother knows you love her, so you don't have to tell her.
    Somebody isn't a mother.

    -Renee Hawkley in Welcome Home

The Cracked Pot...

2011-11-04T09:36:00.001+05:30

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a
pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in
it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion
of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house,
the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only
one and a half pots full of water to his master's house. Of course, the
perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for
which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own
imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of
what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a
bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.

"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."

"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side?

That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them.

For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws to grace His Father's table.

In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste.

So as we seek ways to minister together, and as God calls you to the tasks He has appointed for you, don't be afraid of your flaws.

Acknowledge them, and allow Him to take advantage of them, and you, too, can be the cause of beauty in His pathway.

Go out boldly, knowing that in our weakness we find His strength, and that "In Him every one of God's promises is a Yes."

The Burning Hut....

2011-10-28T13:14:00.003+05:30

The only survivor of a shipwreck washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stung with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.

Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.

It is easy to get discouraged when things are going bad. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.

Remember next time your little hut is burning to the ground- - it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.

Kindness is Contagious...

2011-09-30T15:32:00.001+05:30

My 9-year-old daughter and I were flying from our home in Charlotte,
North Carolina, to spend a week with my husband in Miami, Florida. Mike
had been in Florida for five months working for an Internet start-up
company. We were excited about the trip because we had seen him only five
times in five months, and Kallie missed her dad terribly.

As usual on the Charlotte-to-Miami flight, the plane was totally full.
I had noticed a troop of Boy Scouts at the gate and commented to my
daughter that if anything happened, we would be OK with all those Scouts
on our flight! Little did I know....

Because we did not get our boarding passes until we arrived at the
gate, Kallie and I could not get seats together and were separated by the
aisle. That wasn't such a big deal, except that Kallie was nervous about
the trip and had counted on my reading to her the whole way. Trying to
read across the aisle would be a challenge.

When the two passengers who shared my row boarded the plane, I asked
if they would switch places with Kallie and me, so that we could be
together and so that she could sit next to the window. They refused,
saying they thought they should stay in their assigned seats. Meanwhile,
a mother and her three children were in a panic several rows ahead of us.
There had been a mistake in their boarding passes, the whole family had
been split up.

The passengers in her row also refused to move elsewhere. The mother
could hold her baby, but her 6-year-old son and his older brother had
been scattered around the plane. She was very concerned about the younger
boy sitting with strangers. She was in tears, yet nobody offered to help
her.

Suddenly the Scout leader stood up and said, "Ma'am, I think we can
help you." He then spent five minutes rearranging his group so that
adequate space was available for the family. The boys followed his
directions cheerfully and without complaint, and the mother's relief was
obvious.

Kallie, however, was beginning to panic at the thought of not being
next to a window or her mother. I told her that there wasn't anything I
could do; we would have to sit where we were. Amazingly, the man sitting
next to the Scoutmaster (not a Scout himself), turned around to me and
asked, "Would you and your daughter like our seats?" referring to himself
and the Scoutmaster. He said he was cramped in the window seat and would
really prefer the aisle. We traded seats and continued our trip, very
much relieved to be together and watch the scenery from Kallie's window
seat.

Would that man have offered us his seat if the Scouts hadn't done so
for the mom and her children? I don't know. But I do know that kindness
is contagious, and good deeds beget good deeds!

Phyllis Yearick

To Achieve Sanctity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

2011-09-21T11:59:00.002+05:30

There’s a folktale about a young man who aspired to great holiness. After working some time to achieve it, he went to see his village priest.

    "Father," he announced, "I think I’ve achieved sanctity."

    "How so?" asked the priest.

    "Well," answered the young man, "I’ve been practicing virtue and discipline for some time now, and I’ve become quite proficient at them. From the time the sun rises until it sets, I take no food or water. All day, I do hard work and sacrifice for others.

    "If I have temptations of the flesh, I roll in thorn bushes or in sorrow. And at night, before bed, I practice the ancient monastic discipline and administer lashes to my bare back."

    The priest was silent for a time gazing out a window. Slowly he turned toward the young man and pointed out the window to a mule hauling a tinker’s wagon.

    "I’ve been watching that mule pull that wagon," said the priest. "It doesn’t get fed or watered from morning to night. All day long it works hard for people. Sometimes I’ve noticed it brushing against bushes or rolling in the snow when unharnessed, and I’ve frequently seen lashes of the whip strike its back.

    But I ask you, "Is that a saint or a mule?"

What I Learned.......

2011-09-21T11:55:00.002+05:30

I've learned - That you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.

I've learned - that no matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.

I've learned - that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.

I've learned - that it's not what you have in your life but who you have in your life that counts.

I've learned - that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better know something.

I've learned - that it's not what happens to people that's important. It's what they do about it.

I've learned - that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I've learned - that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I've learned - that either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I've learned - that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

I've learned - that learning to forgive takes practice.

I've learned - that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I've learned - that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I've learned - that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I've learned - that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many years you've lived.

I've learned - that you should never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believed you.

I've learned - that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I've learned - that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others.

Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I've learned - that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.

l've learned - that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other and just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.

I've learned - that sometimes you have to put the individual ahead of their actions.

I've learned - that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I've learned - that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process.

I've learned - that there are many ways of falling and staying in love.

I've learned - that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

I've learned - that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

I've learned - that writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.

I've learned - that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

I've learned - that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon.

YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW

2011-09-12T10:48:00.001+05:30

There are two days in every week about which we should not worry.
            Two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.

            One of these days is yesterday with its mistakes and cares,
            Its faults and blunders, Its aches and pains.
            Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control.
            All the money in the world cannot bring back yesterday.
            We cannot undo a single act we performed.
            We cannot erase a single word we said. Yesterday is gone.

            The other day we should not worry about is tomorrow.
            With its possible adversities, Its burdens,
            Its large promise and poor performance.
            Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.
            Tomorrow's Sun will rise, either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds,
            but it will rise.
            Until it does, we have no stake in tomorrow, for it is yet unborn.
            This just leaves only one day . . . Today.
            Any person can fight the battles of just one day.
            It is only when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternity's -
            yesterday and tomorrow that we break down.
            It is not the experience of today that drives people mad.
            It is the remorse or bitterness for something which happened yesterday
            and the dread of what tomorrow may bring.

            Let us therefore live but one day at a time.

                ~ Author Unknown ~
    (Possible author Jennifer Kritsch)

~Dance Like No One's Watching~

2011-09-06T12:23:00.000+05:30

We convince ourselves that life
will be better after we get married,
have a baby, then another.
Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough
and we'll be more content when they are.

After that we're frustrated that we
have teenagers to deal with,
we will certainly be happy
when they are out of that stage.

We tell ourselves that our life will be complete
when our spouse gets his or her act together,
when we get a nicer car,
are able to go on a nice vacation,
when we retire.
The truth is there's no better time
to be happy than right now.
If not now, when?

Your life will always be filled with challenges.
It's best to admit this to yourself
and decide to be happy anyway.
One of my favorite quotes comes
from Alfred D Souza.

He said, "For a long time it had seemed
to me that life was about to begin -real life.
But there was always some obstacle in the way,
something to be gotten through first,
some unfinished business,
time still to be served,
a debt to be paid. Then life would begin.
At last it dawned on me that these
obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see
that there is no way to happiness.
Happiness is the way,
so, treasure every moment that you have.
And treasure it more because you shared it
with someone special,
special enough to spend your time...
and remember that time waits for no one.

So stop waiting until you finish school,
until you go back to school,
until you lose ten pounds,
until you gain ten pounds,
until you have kids,
until your kids leave the house,
until you start work,
until you retire,
until you get married,
until you get divorced,
until Friday night,
until Sunday morning,
until you get a new car or home,
until your car or home is paid off,
until spring, until summer,
until fall, until winter,
until you are off welfare,
until the first or fifteenth,
until your song comes on,
until you've had a drink,
until you've sobered up,
until you die, until you are born again
to decide that there is no better time
than right now to be happy...
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

So, Work like you don't need money.
Love like you've never been hurt and
Dance Like no one's watching.

~Author Unknown~

Children's Prayers ....

2011-08-31T11:19:00.000+05:30

A mother was teaching her 3-year-old the Lord's prayer. For several evenings at bedtime she repeated it after her mother. One night she said she was ready to solo. The mother listened with pride as she carefully enunciated each word, right up to the end of the prayer. "Lead us not into temptation," she prayed, "but deliver us some e-mail, Amen."

    A woman invited some people over for dinner. At the table she turned to her six-year-old daughter and said, "Would you like to say the blessing?" The girl replied, "I wouldn't know what to say." "Just say what you heard Mommy say," the mother answered. The daughter bowed her head and said, "Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?

    A 5 year old boy was sitting down to eat when his mother asked him to pray for his meal. He replied, "Mom we don't have to. We prayed over this last night." His mother had prepared leftovers from the day before.

      A 4-year-old boy who was asked to return thanks before Christmas dinner. The family members bowed their heads in expectation. He began his prayer, thanking God for all his friends, naming them one by one. Then he thanked God for Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister, Grandma, Grandpa, and all his aunts and uncles. Then he began to thank God for the food. He gave thanks for the turkey, the dressing, the fruit salad, the cranberry sauce, the pies, the cakes, even the Cool Whip. Then he paused, and everyone waited--and waited. After a long silence, the young fellow looked up at his mother and asked, "If I thank God for the broccoli, won't he know that I'm lying?"

    A daddy was listening to his child say his prayer "Dear Harold," At this, dad interrupted and said, "Wait a minute, "How come you called God, Harold? The little boy looked up and said, "That's what they call Him in church. You know the prayer we say, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, Harold be Thy name."

    One night Mike's parents overheard this prayer. "Now I lay me down to rest, and hope to pass tomorrow's test, if I should die before I wake, that's one less test I have to take."

    A five-year-old said grace at family dinner one night. "Dear God, thank you for these pancakes." When he concluded, his parents asked him why he thanked God for pancakes when they were having chicken. He smiled and said, "I thought I'd see if He was paying attention tonight."

    A little boy's prayer: "Dear God, please take care of my daddy and my mommy and my sister and my brother and my doggy and me. Oh, please take care of yourself, God. If anything happens to you, we're gonna be in a big mess."

    Johnny had been misbehaving and was sent to his room. After a while he emerged and informed his mother that he had thought it over and then said a prayer. "Fine," said the pleased mother. "If you ask God to help you not misbehave, He will help you." "Oh, I didn't ask Him to help me not misbehave," said Johnny. I asked Him to help you put up with me."

    A little boy was overheard praying: "Lord, if You can't make me a better boy, don't worry about it. I'm having a real good time like I am!"

    A little boy was saying his bedtime prayers with his mother: "Lord, bless Mommy and Daddy, and God, GIVE ME A NEW BICYCLE!!!" Mom: "God's not deaf, son." Boy: "I know, Mom, but Grandma's in the next room, and she's hard of hearing!

    Little Johnny was softly saying his night prayers kneeling down, and his mother was beside him. "Say your prayers louder, darling, I can't hear you," Said Little Johnny's mother. "But I'm not talking to you" was the instant reply.

    One Sunday in a Midwest city a young child was "acting up" during the morning worship hour. The parents did their best to maintain some sense of order in the pew but were losing the battle. Finally the father picked the little fellow up and walked sternly up the aisle on his way out. Just before reaching the safety of the foyer the little one called loudly to the congregation, "Pray for me! Pray for me!"

    And this particular four-year-old prayed: "And forgive us our trash baskets as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets."

Carrot, Egg, and Coffee...You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again...

2011-08-22T10:04:00.000+05:30

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see. "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.

The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?" Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity -- boiling water. Each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became
hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial
hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

THE POWER OF A LETTER.......

2011-08-10T14:38:00.000+05:30

I don't know if it is true but here it is......

Most of you know John Wayne as an actor. You may not
know what happened to him before he died. This is
that story! Robert Schuller's teenage daughter,
Cindy, was in a motorcycle accident and had to have
her leg amputated. John Wayne is a big fan of Robert
Schuller. He heard Dr. Schuller say on one of his
programs that his daughter had been in an accident and
had to have her leg amputated. John Wayne wrote a
note to her saying: Dear Cindy, Sorry to hear about
your accident. Hope you will be all right. Signed,
John Wayne The note was delivered to her and she
decided she wanted to write John Wayne a note in
reply. She wrote: Dear Mr. Wayne, I got your note.
Thanks for writing to me. I like you very much. I am
going to be all right because Jesus is going to help
me. Mr. Wayne, do you know Jesus? I sure hope you
know Jesus, Mr. Wayne, because I cannot imagine Heaven
being complete without John Wayne being there. I hope,
if you don't know Jesus, that you will give your heart
to Jesus right now. See you in Heaven. And she
signed her name. She had just put that letter in an
envelope, sealed it, and written across the front of
it "John Wayne" when a visitor came into her room to
see her. He said to her: What are you doing? She
said: I just wrote a letter to John Wayne, but I don't
know how to get it to him. He said: That's funny, I am
going to have dinner with John Wayne tonight at the
Newport Club down at Newport Beach. Give it to me and
I will give it to him. She gave him the letter and he
put it in his coat pocket. There were twelve of them
that night sitting around the table for dinner. They
were laughing and cutting up and the guy happened to
reach in his pocket and felt that letter and
remembered. John Wayne was seated at the end of the
table and the guy took the letter out and said: Hey,
Duke, I was in Schuller's daughter's room today and
she wrote you a letter and wanted me to give it to
you. Here it is. They passed it down to John Wayne
and he opened it. They kept on laughing and cutting
up and someone happened to look down at John Wayne.
He was crying. One of them said: Hey, Duke, what is
the matter? He said (and can't you hear him saying
it), " I want to read you this letter." He read the
letter. Then he began to weep. He folded it, put it
in his pocket, and he pointed to the man who delivered
it to him and said: "You go tell that little girl that
right now, in this restaurant, right here, John Wayne
gives his heart to Jesus Christ and I will see her in
heaven." Three weeks later John Wayne died. You never
know how your witness to another will effect their eternity!

Graduation Speech.....

2011-08-04T11:02:00.000+05:30

Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker dying to get out, some world-
weary pundit eager to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather be
Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be invited to sow our words of
wisdom among an audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason we can't
entertain ourselves by composing a Guide to Life for Graduates.

I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank you for indulging my attempt.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The
long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the
rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering
experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust
me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way
you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you
really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're
behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing
this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The
most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with
their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're
gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you
won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on
your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself
too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are
everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what
other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be
nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold
on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in
Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will
philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe
you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run
out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Mary Schmich ....

GOD ???

2011-08-03T17:01:00.000+05:30

THIS ONE IS FABULOUS: WRITTEN BY AN 8 YEAR OLD

How to Explain God was written by Danny Dutton, age
8, from Chula Vista, California, for his third grade homework assignment

"Explain God".

"One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth. He doesn't make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way He doesn't have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.

"God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn't have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because He hears everything, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off. "God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn't go wasting His time by going over your mom and dad's head asking for something they said you couldn't have.

"Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren't any who come to our church.

"Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind, like His Father and He told His Father that they didn't know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said O.K.

"His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn't have to go out on the road anymore. He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary, only more important.

"You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to help you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the time.

"You should always go to Church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you want to make happy, it's God. Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong. And besides the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway.

"If you don't believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can't go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can. It is good to know He's around you when you're scared in the dark or when you can't swim and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids.

"But you shouldn't just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases.

And that's why I believe in God.

Military Story: The Marine’s Father....

2011-07-25T09:10:00.000+05:30

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.
“Your son is here,” she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile.

He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.

“Who was that man?” he asked.

The nurse was startled, “He was your father,” she answered.

“No, he wasn’t,” the Marine replied.
“I never saw him before in my life.”

“Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

“I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed.”