Fireman Billy

Fireman Billy...

In Phoenix, AZ. a 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's dreams to come true. She took her son's hand and asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?"

"Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true." Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine.

Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat - not a toy one - with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast."

Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire fighter's uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van, and even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local news program.

Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible.

One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition.

The chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the P.A. system that there is not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?"

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window, sixteen firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him. With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, Chief, am I really a fireman now?

"Billy, you are, and the Head Chief, Jesus, is holding your hand," the chief said. With those words, Billy smiled and said, "I know, He's been holding my hand all day, and the angels have been singing." He closed his eyes one last time.

- Author Unknown

The Journey Of A Mother

For those who are fortunate enough to still be blessed by having your Mom with you, this is beautiful... For those who aren't... it is even more beautiful. It takes my breath!

The young mother set her foot on the path of life. "Is this the long way?" she asked. And the guide said "Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning"

Since the young mother was happy, she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, she fed them and bathed them, and taught them how to tie their shoes and ride a bike and reminded them to feed the dog, and do their homework and brush their teeth. The sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."

Then the nights came, and the storms, and the path was sometimes dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her arms, and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come."

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children, "A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and as they climbed they learned to weather the storms. And with this, she gave them strength to face the world. Year after year, she showed them compassion, understanding, hope, but most of all... unconditional love.

The days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old and she became little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. And the mother, when she lay down at night, looked up at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned so much and are now passing these traits on to their children."

And when the way became rough for her, they lifted her, and gave her their strength, just as she had given them hers. One day they came to a hill, and beyond the hill, they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And mother said: "I have reached the end of my journey.

And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk with dignity and pride, with their heads held high, and so can their children after them. And the children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates." And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said: "We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence."

Your Mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she's the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume that she wore, she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well, she's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop. A mother shows every emotion... happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrow... and all the while, hoping and praying you will only know the good feelings in life.

She's the place you came from, your first home, and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space... not even death!

Ring The Bell

Disabled doesn't mean Defeated.

"Clang, Clang, Clang!" The sound of the bells were bellowing, announcing our first dinner.

What was I doing? I was a city slicker who had never been to a dude ranch before. But there I was at the Don K. Dude Ranch in southern Colorado in August, a few years ago, during my mother-in-law's annual family vacation.

However, the next question was what in the world would we do at the ranch, or more specifically, what would I do there, as I am disabled?

As the bells continued to ring (loudly, I might add) I headed toward a building called The Mess Hall. I thought, I've only lived in large metropolitan cities, none of which had a restaurant called The Mess Hall. I knew this was going to be a long -- very long -- week.

After dinner and the introductions, the "head cowboy" got up. He said, "Welcome to the Don K." He was speaking with a slow, southern twang as he continued, "Y'all better get some rest cuz we're hitting the trails first thing after breakfast. At the Don K. we ride horses twice each day -- in the morning and in the afternoon. I see many of you from years back, and I know y'all can ride. But the new ones, how many of you know how to ride?"

After he got his answers, the bell started to ring again indicating time for bed. At 8:30? Who ever heard of an adult going to bed at 8:30? What about TV? I quickly learned there were no televisions in any of the rooms, except for one in the main house.

Walking back to our bunk (for bed, yes, at 8:30) my mother-in-law told those of us in her family, "I don't know about this place. Maybe my family is not meant for slow country life on a ranch. But please give it a try. Besides, dinner was pretty good, wasn't it?"

That night many of the family had problems sleeping. Maybe, it was too much fresh air. However, all were asleep in the early morning when once again those bells started clanging. Waking and stretching, I thought, "How many times will those bells -- those annoying bells -- ring throughout the day, and week?"

I learned that the huge bell, as well as the others they had throughout the ranch, was very symbolic. Every time a guest did something special it was met with the clanging bells. Possibly the cowboys on the ranch were trying to borrow some psychology with Pavlov's behavioral therapy techniques. I don't know, but I just wanted to have the bells ring one time for me.

I was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the ranch, as well as the slow, peaceful, beauty of the Don K. When we were not riding, we were relaxing, reading in hammocks while the children were busy playing with each other in the fields. I was beginning to love the Don K.

Each morning after breakfast the entire group of guests would break up into four divisions for our morning ride. One group was for the superior riders, a second group was for good riders, a third group was for the beginners. The fourth group -- well, that was for me and my personal cowboy, Cowboy Dan, known as C.D.

At first C.D. made sure I had the correct gear, including a helmet. Then, he had to figure out a way for me to get up on CoCo, my beautiful black horse. We finally used a wedge ladder for me to finally, and slowly, climb aboard CoCo.

Smiling with pride when I finally mounted my horse, I heard C.D. softly say "Click click, come on CoCo," as he motioned to me to softly kick my legs into CoCo's body.

We all started moving, very slowly, riding on our walking horses up and down the path. The next day, we went up and down the magnificent hills and I was beginning to have fun, and my family was having fun too. We were beginning to hope that our time at the ranch would not end.

Throughout my days of riding on CoCo, I could hear the bells ringing so often, fulfilling the Don K. tradition of ringing the bells anytime a guest did something special. It was as if the bells were saying, "Good job." I wanted the bells to ring for me, even if was just once, but how?

C.D. started teaching me to trot on CoCo. As I was concentrating on my trotting, I heard C.D. ask, "What are you going to do for the rodeo?" "Rodeo?! What rodeo?" I thought in panic. C.D. led CoCo and me to the Rodeo Corral, that consisted of enclosed bleachers.

C.D. said, "We need to practice for the rodeo that's in two days." We practiced and practiced some more. I thought I had it down, but I was not positive. Whatever I did at the rodeo, whether I was successful or not, I knew one thing -- the rodeo was going to be a blast.

Excitement was in the air the morning of the rodeo. Each guest saddled up and rode to the rodeo. The corral's fairgrounds were very festive with balloons and ribbons. However, I did not take notice of the other decorations nor the audience, that consisted of citizens from the nearby towns, filling up the bleachers.

All of a sudden, the first group of experienced riders roared by into the corral, circling very quickly. The announcer barked over the loud speaker, "Welcome to this rodeo, the last summer for rodeos at the Don K., as the ranch will be transformed into a working ranch in the fall."

The guests and the citizens of the nearby towns who were in the audience were all shocked. The guests had worked together throughout the week, and many throughout the years, to become a team. Silence filled the air. With this announcement, the "team" would be no more -- at least not at the Don K.

Each guest vowed to make this rodeo a very special one. Just then, a cowboy clown appeared in the corral indicating, in a sense, the "show must go on." The cowboys had the adult guests start the rodeo, followed by the children guests who showed the riding skills they had achieved throughout the week.

Then C.D said, "Mike, your turn. Come on CoCo." With those words I quickly kicked CoCo on his sides. We began trotting around the barrels until I stopped about 100 yards away from the beginning. As we stopped, the rodeo clown ran towards the bell and started ringing it.

I was in shock! THE BELL WAS RINGING FOR ME! Everyone was applauding. I could even hear through the loud clapping two of the experienced riders shouting, "You can ride with me anytime!" I just blushed.

Yes, I had done it.

I had worked hard. However, this story is not so much about a dude ranch or a horse. It is about setting goals. Everyone needs to set goals -- whether it's as simple as getting up in the morning, hopefully with a smile, or as complicated as studying physics theory, or learning ways to overcome one's obstacles.

Everyone has his own obstacle. I believe that is the definition of being human.

I thought of that as I smiled even more and gave CoCo a sugar cube for helping me achieve my goal.


~ Michael Segal ~

Run With Intent

Buckminster Fuller once said, "The minute you choose to do what you really want to do it's a different kind of life." And it's not about what you're getting PAID to do! If you want to live abundantly, decide what you really want and figure out a way to do it. Be clear and live with intent.

You may have heard of Fred Lebow. Fred complained to his doctor that he lacked energy. His doctor advised him to take up running in order to increase his stamina. He fell in love with it! He was 39 years old when he entered his first race -- and did horribly. He beat only one other contestant…a 72-year-old man. But he loved it!

Fred decided what he really wanted to do -- and he did it in his spare time. He joined the New York Road Runners Club and organized New York City's first marathon race. But what Fred truly wanted to do, even more than run, was to bring people together. And that is what he did. He believe that anybody should be able to run -- people of all ages, any background, professional or amateur, and of any country. Today, more than 28,000 people of all backgrounds and nationalities compete in the NYC Marathon.

Not everyone in New York was excited about people running through their neighborhoods. Fred was approached by a youth gang that warned him that nobody had better run through their turf. "That's great," Fred enthused. "I need someone to protect the runners in your area, and you look like just the fellows to do it." He gave them each a hat, shirt and jacket and that year, when the marathon went through their neighborhood, these young men proudly guarded the runners along their way.

Fred decided what was truly important to him and he found a way to do it. He lived with intent. That single decision made his life remarkably different.

In 1990, Fred Lebow found he had a brain tumor. In 1992 he ran his final race. He crossed the finish line holding the hand of his friend and Norwegian Olympic medalist, Grete Waitz. A bronze statue was created of Fred in his running clothes, checking his watch. It is now placed at the finish line of every race. Fred died in 1994. But as one sports writer said, "Fate handed him a short race. With his gall, with his love of life, Fred Lebow turned it into a marathon."

Fred would say that it's not about how long you live, but how you run the race of life. Do you run it with intent?

~ Steve Goodier ~

Forgiveness

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch. Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work" he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?"

"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a fence -- an 8-foot fence -- so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day.

The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing.

About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job.

The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge -- a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work handrails and all -- and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched.

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done."

The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to build."

Thank God For Pain

Sometimes a very unexpected blessing can come out of pain - if we only look for it and see it for what it is. Thank you to Besty for this reminder!

Thank God for pain. I have thanked God for many, many blessings throughout my lifetime, but never for pain. Until now.

This particular pain began in February 2000. It was sharp, constant, on my left side, and the left side of my back. Little did I know it would be the life I would know for over two years.

I went to doctors, who did many tests and never found the true problem. Then, just a few months later, that pain would be accompanied by a high fever, nausea, vomiting two to three times a week, and would last for 3 months. More tests. Again, nothing was found, so one doctor decided it was all in my head. (I have found out that some doctors like to say that to a patient when they cannot figure out what is wrong).

Eventually, after 2 rounds of antibiotics that I had to practically beg, borrow and steal from this same skeptical doctor, I had no more pain, fever or nausea. For two more months, I would remain pain, fever and nausea free. Then it returned.

By this time, however, my husband, Dale, had developed more problems with one of his two blood diseases, eventually having to have chemotherapy (I have written for 2TheHeart about Dale's story) in 2001. My concentration remained focused on my husband's health, all the while, my sharp pain, occasional fever and nausea were ever present. Despite that, for the next several months, God, Dale's doctors and I would all work together to get him successfully into remission.

Still having pain this time last year, I had made a promise to Dale once he was in remission, that I would finally go back to the doctor. This time, a new doctor, who not only believed the problems I had were real, he immediately set me up with a local gastroenterologist. A colonoscopy was done, revealing Diverticulosis (the cause of the sharp pain, nausea, fever and vomiting, as it had become infected and turned into Diverticulitis). Having the mystery of the few years of intense pain and all other symptoms cleared up was a HUGE relief. However...

I had this colonoscopy for another reason...a reason that I could not have possibly known about, nor, until the procedure was done, could the doctor have known. For there amidst the Diverticulosis, were several polyps. The doctor was very surprised to find so many of them in someone my age (I was 37 at the time of the exam last year). The doctor removed and biopsied one large polyp and burned the rest. The biopsy revealed that the polyps were PRE-CANCEROUS. A follow-up appointment with the gastroenterologist confirmed that it was quite possible that in a year...approximately now...I could have indeed had full blown colon cancer. Had I not had the pain, I would not have had the immediate need for a colonoscopy. Had I not had the colonoscopy when I did, the pre-cancer would not have been found soon enough.

God works in mysterious ways, and I truly DO thank God for pain.

A Boys Race Prayer

My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad." That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed. Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out.

The project began....

Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do. Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom). Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids' cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning," the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own.

Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race. Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed. A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom."

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there.

As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old asked if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped. Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with his Heavenly Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, "Okay, I'm ready." As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car.

Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval. The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?"

To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help me beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I didn't cry if I lost."

Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the out come, Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome. When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a fathers help." No, he went to his Father for strength.

Perhaps we spend to much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, or to much time asking God to remove us from the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the struggle.

"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Philippines 4:13

Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win, thus hurt someone else; he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity.

Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to his Father also showed the crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad," but His Father was most definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked away a winner that night, with his Father at his side.

Jesus In The House

One day he decided to invite the Lord to come home and stay with him. When the Lord arrived, this young man offered him the very best room in the house. The room was upstairs and at the end of the hall. "This room is yours, Jesus! Stay as long as you like and you can do whatever you want to in this room, remember Jesus, its all yours."

That evening after he had retired for the night there came a loud knocking at the front door. The young man pulled on his robe and made his way downstairs. When he opened the door he found that the devil had sent three of his demons to attack the man. He quickly tried to close the door but one of the demons kept sticking his foot in.

Sometime later, after a great struggle, he managed to slam the door shut and returned to his room totally exhausted.

Can you believe that," the man thought. Jesus is upstairs in my very best room sleeping while I am down here battling demons. Oh, well, maybe he just didn't hear. He slept fitfully that night. The next day thing went along as normal and, being tired as he was, the young man retired early that evening. Along about midnight, there came such a terrible ruckus at the front door that the young man was sure that whatever it was would tear the door down. He stumbled down the stairs once again and opened the door to find that were dozens of demons now trying to get into his beautiful home.

For more than three hours he fought and struggled against the demons from hell, and finally overtook them enough to shut the door against their attack. All energy seemed to fail him. He really didn't understand this at all. Why won't the Lord come to my rescue? Why does he allow me to fight all by myself? I feel so alone. Troubled, he found his way to the sofa and fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning he decided to inquire of the Lord about the happenings of the last two evenings. Quietly he made his way to the elegant bedroom where he had left Jesus. "Jesus," he called as he tapped at the door. "Lord, I don't understand what is happening. For the last two nights I have had to fight the demons away from my door while you laid up here sleeping. Don't you care about me? Did I not give you the very best room in the house?"

He could see the tears building in Jesus' eyes but continued on, "I just don't understand, I really thought that once I invited you in to live with me that you would take care of me and I gave you the best room in my house and everything. What more can I do?"

"My precious child," Jesus spoke so softly. "I do love and care for you. I protect all that you have released into my care. But, when you invited me to come here and stay, you brought me to this lovely room and you shut the door to the rest of your house. I am Lord of this room but I am not Master of this house.

I have protected this room and no demon may enter here."

"Oh, Lord, please forgive me. Take all of my house -- it is yours. I am so sorry that I never offered you all to begin with. I want you to have control of everything." With this he flung open the bedroom door and knelt at Jesus' feet. "Please forgive me Lord for being so selfish."

Jesus smiled and told him that He had already forgiven him and that He would take care of things from now on. That night as the young man prepared for bed he thought, I wonder if those demons will return, I am so tired of fighting them each and every night. But, he knew that Jesus said that he would take care of things from now on.

Along about midnight the banging on the door was frightening. The young man slipped out of his room in time to see Jesus going down the stairs. He watched in awe as Jesus swung open the door, no need to be afraid.

Satan stood at the door, this time demanding to be let in. "What do you want, Satan?" the Lord asked. The devil bowed low in the presence of the Lord, "So sorry, I seem to have gotten the wrong address." And with that, he and the demons all ran away.

There is a moral to this tale. Jesus wants all of you, not just a part. He will take all that you give Him, but nothing more. How much of your heart have you given to the Lord? Are you keeping a portion of it away from Him?

Perhaps the attacks are coming more and more each day. Why not let the Lord fight the battles for you? He is always victorious. I have found that God made man simple, all of man's complexities are of his own devising.

Something Special For My Granny

For some time I've had a church member provide me with a rose boutonniere to pin on the lapel of my suit every Sunday. Because I always got a flower on Sunday morning, I really did not think much of it. It was a nice gesture that became routine. One Sunday, however, what I considered ordinary became very special.

As I was leaving the Sunday service a young man approached and said, "Sir, what are you going to do with your flower?" At first I did not know what he was talking about, but then I understood. I said, "Do you mean this?" as I pointed to the rose pinned to my coat.

He said, "Yes sir. I would like it if you are just going to throw it away." The little boy said, "Sir, I'm going to give it to my granny. My mother and father got divorced last year. I was living with my mother, but I could not stay, so she sent me to live with my grandmother. She has been so good to me that I want to give that pretty flower to her for loving me."

When the little boy finished I could hardly speak. My eyes filled with tears and I knew I had been touched in the depths of my soul. I reached up and unpinned my flower. With the flower in my hand, I looked at the boy and said, "Son, that is the nicest thing I have ever heard, but you can't have this flower because it's not enough. If you'll look in front of the pulpit, you'll see a big bouquet of flowers. Different families buy them for the church each week. Please take those flowers to your granny because she deserves the very best."

If I hadn't been touched enough already, he made one last statement and I will always cherish it. He said, "What a wonderful day! I asked for one flower but got a beautiful bouquet."

A Little Girls Prayer

Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her in Africa.

"One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator. (We had no electricity to run an incubator.) We also had no special feeding facilities.

Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.

As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.

"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. "Your job is to keep the baby warm."

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon."

While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?"

As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas -- that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the.... could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out -- yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle!

I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"

Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months before -- in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."

"Before they call, I will answer!" Isa 65:24

Faithful Friends

Brownie and Spotty were neighbor dogs who met every day to play together. Like pairs of dogs you can find in most any neighborhood, these two loved each other and played together so often that they had worn a path through the grass of the field between their respective houses. One evening, Brownie's family noticed that Brownie hadn't returned home. They went looking for him with no success. Brownie didn't show up the next day, and, despite their efforts to find him, by the next week he was still missing.

Curiously, Spotty showed up at Brownie's house alone, barking, whining, and generally pestering Brownie's human family. Busy with their own lives, they just ignored the nervous little neighbor dog. Finally, one morning Spotty refused to take "no" for an answer. Ted, Brownie's owner, was steadily harassed by the furious, adamant little dog. Spotty followed Ted about, barking insistently, then darting back and forth to a nearby empty lot, as if to say, "Follow me! It's urgent!" Eventually, Ted followed the frantic Spotty across the empty lot, as Spotty paused to race back and bark encouragingly. The little dog led the man under a fence, past clumps of trees, to a desolate spot a half mile from the house.

There Ted found his beloved Brownie alive -- one of his hind legs crushed in a steel leg-hold trap. Horrified, Ted wished he'd taken Spotty's earlier appeals seriously.

Then Ted noticed something quite remarkable... Spotty had done more than simply lead Brownie's human to his trapped friend. In a circle around the injured dog, Ted found an array of dog food and table scraps, which were identified as the remains of every meal Spotty had been fed that week!

Spotty had been visiting Brownie regularly, in a single minded quest to keep his friend alive by sacrificing his own comfort! Spotty had stayed with Brownie to protect him from predators, snuggling with him at night to keep him warm and nuzzling him to keep his spirits up. Brownie's leg was treated by a veterinarian and he recovered. For many years thereafter, the two families watched the faithful friends frolicking and chasing each other down that well-worn path between their houses.

The Carpenter's Tools

Brother Hammer served as the chairman. The other members of the tool belt informed him that he must leave, because he was too noisy. But brother Hammer said, "If I have to leave this carpenter's shop, then brother Gimlet must go too. He's insignificant and makes a very small impression." (A gimlet is a small tool with a screw point, grooved shank, and a cross handle for boring holes).

Little brother Gimlet arose and said, "All right, but brother Screwdriver must go also. You have to turn him around and around to get anywhere with him."

Brother Screwdriver turned to the other tools in the belt and said, "If you wish, I will go, but brother Plane must leave too. All of his work is on the surface; there's no depth to what he does."

To this brother Plane leveled his terse reply, "Well, then, brother Saw will have to depart too. The changes he proposes always cut too deep."

Brother Saw complained, saying, "Brother Ruler will have to withdraw if I leave, for he's always measuring other folks as though he were the only one who is right."

Brother Ruler then surveyed the group and said, "Brother Sandpaper doesn't belong here either. He's rougher than he ought to be, and is always rubbing people the wrong way."

In the midst of the discussion, the Carpenter of Nazareth walked in. He had come to perform his day's work. He put on His tool belt and went to the workbench to make a pulpit. He employed the ruler, the saw, the plane, the hammer, the gimlet, the screwdriver, the sandpaper, and all the other tools. When the day's work was over, the pulpit was finished, and the carpenter went home. All the accusations against each of these tools were absolutely true, yet the carpenter used every one of them. No matter which tool He use, no other tool could have done the work better.

THOUGHT: We are all "tools"" in Jesus' tool box. Each of us has a purpose, ability, and a task to perform.

"For we are God's fellow workers..." (1 Corinthians 3:9a; cf. 12:12ff).

MIRACLE

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment.
Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

'And what do you want?' the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages,' he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

'Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,' Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. 'He's
really, really sick...and I want to buy a miracle.'

'I beg your pardon?' said the pharmacist.

'His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now So how much does a miracle cost?'

'We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you,' the pharmacist said, softening a little.

'Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me ho w much it costs.'

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man He stooped down and asked the little girl, 'What kind of a miracle does your brother need?'

' I don't know,' Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money.'

'How much do you have?' asked the man from Chicago

'One dollar and eleven cents,' Tess answered barely audibly.

'And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.'

'Well, what a coincidence,' smiled the man. 'A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of a
miracle for little brothers. '

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said 'Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you
need.'

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

'That surgery,' her Mom whispered. 'was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?'

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost..one dollar and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child..


In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need.

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.
I know you'll keep the ball moving!

Perfect Peace

There once was a King who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of peace. Many artists tried. The King looked at all the pictures, but there were only two he really liked and he had to choose between them.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror for peaceful towering mountains were all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains too. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which rain fell, in which lightening played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all.

But when the King looked, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on her nest ... perfect peace.

Which picture do you think won the prize?

The King chose the second picture.

Do you know why?

"Because," explained the King, "peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace."

Addendum -- John 16:33 (NLT) "I have told you all this so that you may have 'peace' in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world."

My Child . . . .

My Child . . . .

* You may not know me, but I know everything about you... Psalm 139:1
* I know when you sit down and when you rise up... Psalm 139:2
* I am familiar with all your ways... Psalm 139:3
* Even the very hairs on your head are numbered... Matthew 10:29-31
* For you were made in my image... Genesis 1:27
* In me you live and move and have your being... Acts 17:28
* For you are my offspring... Acts 17:28
* I knew you even before you were conceived... Jeremiah 1:4-5
* I chose you when I planned creation... Ephesians 1:11-12
* You were not a mistake, for all your days are written in my book... Psalm 139:15-16
* I determined the exact time of your birth and where you would live... Acts 17:26
* You are fearfully and wonderfully made... Psalm 139:14
* I knit you together in your mother's womb... Psalm 139:13
* And brought you forth on the day you were born... Psalm 71:6
* I have been misrepresented by those who don't know me... John 8:41-44
* I am not distant and angry, but am the complete expression of love... 1 John 4:16
* And it is my desire to lavish my love on you... 1 John 3:1
* Simply because you are my child and I am your father... 1 John 3:1
* I offer you more than your earthly father ever could... Matthew 7:11
* For I am the perfect father... Matthew 5:48
* Every good gift that you receive comes from my hand... James 1:17
* For I am your provider and I meet all your needs... Matthew 6:31-33
* My plan for your future has always been filled with hope... Jeremiah 29:11
* Because I love you with an everlasting love... Jeremiah 31:3
* My thoughts toward you are countless as the sand on the seashore... Psalm 139:17-18
* And I rejoice over you with singing... Zephaniah 3:17
* I will never stop doing good to you... Jeremiah 32:40
* For you are my treasured possession... Exodus 19:5
* I desire to establish you with all my heart and all my soul... Jeremiah 32:41
* And I want to show you great and marvelous things... Jeremiah 33:3
* If you seek me with all your heart, you will find me... Deuteronomy 4:29
* Delight in me and I will give you the desires of your heart... Psalm 37:4
* For it is I who gave you those desires... Philippians 2:13
* I am able to do more for you than you could possibly imagine... Ephesians 3:20
* For I am your greatest encourager... 2 Thessalonians 2:16-17
* I am also the Father who comforts you in all your troubles... 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
* When you are brokenhearted, I am close to you... Psalm 34:18
* As a shepherd carries a lamb, I have carried you close to my heart... Isaiah 40:11
* One day I will wipe away every tear from your eyes... Revelation 21:3-4
* And I'll take away all the pain you have suffered on this earth... Revelation 21:3-4
* I am your Father, and I love you even as I love my son, Jesus... John 17:23
* For in Jesus, my love for you is revealed... John 17:26
* He is the exact representation of my being... Hebrews 1:3
* He came to demonstrate that I am for you, not against you... Romans 8:31
* And to tell you that I am not counting your sins... 2 Corinthians 5:18-19
* Jesus died so that you and I could be reconciled... 2 Corinthians 5:18-19
* His death was the ultimate expression of my love for you... 1 John 4:10
* I gave up everything I loved that I might gain your love... Romans 8:31-32
* If you receive the gift of my son Jesus, you receive me... 1 John 2:23
* And nothing will ever separate you from my love again... Romans 8:38-39
* Come home and I'll throw the biggest party heaven has ever seen... Luke 15:7
* I have always been Father, and will always be Father... Ephesians 3:14-15
* My question is... Will you be my child?... John 1:12-13
* I am waiting for you... Luke 15:11-32

Love,
Your father - God!

Guest Minister

After a few of the usual Sunday evening hymns, the church's pastor slowly stood up, walked over to the pulpit and, before he gave his sermon for the evening, briefly introduced a guest minister who was in the service that evening.

In the introduction, the pastor told the congregation that the guest minister was one of his dearest childhood friends and that he wanted him to have a few moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate for the service. With that, an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.

"A father, his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the Pacific coast," he began, "when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright and the three were swept into the ocean as the boat capsized."

The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat interested in his story.

The aged minister continued with his story, "grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life: to which boy he would throw the other end of the life line. He only had seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a christian and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves."

"As the father yelled out, 'I love you, son!' he threw out the life line to his son's friend. By the time the father had pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had disappeared beneath the raging swells into the black of night. His body was never recovered."

By this time, the two teenagers were sitting up straight in the pew, anxiously waiting for the next words to come out of the old minister's mouth.

"The father," he continued, "knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus and he could not bear the thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without jesus... Therefore, he sacrificed his son to save the son's friend.

How great is the love of God that he should do the same for us. Our Heavenly Father sacrificed his only begotten son that we could be saved. I urge you to accept his offer to rescue you and take a hold of the life line he is throwing out to you in this service."

With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the room. The pastor again walked slowly to the pulpit and delivered a brief sermon with an invitation at the end. However, no one responded to the appeal.

Within minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side. "That was a nice story," politely stated one of the boys. "But I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his only son's life in hopes that the other boy would become a christian."

"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing down at his worn bible. A big smile broadened his narrow face. He once again looked up at the boys and said, "It sure isn't very realistic, is it?

But I'm standing here today to tell you that story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for god to give up his son for me. You see --- I was that father and your pastor is my son's friend."

Parable of the Pencil

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box. There are 5 things you need to know, he told the pencil, before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be.

One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in Someone's hand.

Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you'll need it to become a better pencil.

Three: You will be able to correct mistakes you will make.

Four: The most important part of you will always be what's inside.

And Five: On every surface you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write.

The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.

Now replacing the place of the pencil with you; always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be.

One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in God's hand. And allow other human beings to access you for the many gifts you possess.

Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems, but you'll need it to become a stronger person.

Three: You will be able to correct mistakes you might make or grow through them.

Four: The most important part of you will always be what's on the inside.

And Five: On every surface you walk, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue to serve God in everything.

By understanding and remembering, let us proceed with our life on this earth having a meaningful purpose in our heart and a relationship with God daily.

Take My Son: An Inspirational-Story

This is an inspirational-story of a wealthy man and his son who both loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier.

The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art."

The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this." The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one." But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"

Another voice shouted angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!" But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

"We have $10, who will bid $20?"

"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."

"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?" The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"

A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
Do what ever you like, but remember that maybe "one" of the people you might have taken time to send this to, may be just the person who needs to hear this.

The Power of Prayer

A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan...

While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.

Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time witnessed to him of the Lord Jesus Christ. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.

Two weeks later I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards." At this I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone out in that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, 26 guards. "My five friends also saw them and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid, and left you alone."

At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day that this happened. The missionary told the church congregation the date, and the man who interrupted told him this story: "On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong, I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?" The men who had met together to pray that day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were -- he was to busy counting how many men he saw. There were 26.

**This story is an incredible example of how the Spirit of the Lord moves in mysterious ways. If you ever feel such prodding, go along with it. Nothing is ever hurt by prayer except the gates of hell. I encourage you to forward this to as many people as you know. If we all take it to heart, we can turn this world towards Christ once again. Have a great day!**

THE POWER OF PRAYER -- as the above true story clearly illustrates, "with God all things are possible" and more importantly, how God hears and answers the prayers of the faithful. After you read this, please pause and give God thanks for the beautiful gift of your faith, for the powerful gift of prayer, and for the many miracles He works in your own daily life... and then pass it on...

ABC Motivation

Avoid Negative Thoughts, People,
Things and Habits.

Believe in yourself.

Consider things from every angle and
others points of view.

Dare to Dream and Dream Big

Energy, Excitement and Enthusiasm
is in your blood.

Family and Friends are hidden treasures ;
enjoy these riches.

Give more than you planned to.

Have a good sense of humour.

Ignore Criticism, Ridicule and Discouragement
from others.

Jump on Problems because they are
Opportunities in disguise.

Keep up the good work however hard it
may seem.

Love yourself, just as you are.

Make Impossibility a Possibility.

Never lie, cheat or steal, always strike
a fair deal.

Open your eyes and see things as they really are.

Prefect Practice makes you perfect.

Quitters never Win and Winners never Quit.

Reward yourself for every small success
and achievement.

Stop Wasting your Time and Procrastinating
important Goals.

Take control of your Life and your Goals.

Understand so that you could Understood.

Visualize your Goals and Dreams everyday.

Win over your own weaknesses and
make them as your Strengths.

Accelerate your efforts

Yes Yes Yes, Yes you Can and You Will

Zap your Stress and Enjoy your Life..

The Most Beautiful Heart

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing. The people stared How can he say his heart is more beautiful they thought! The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."

"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.

Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges - giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?" The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.

They embraced and walked away side by side.

- Author Unknown