Knowledge is King

God has a way of allowing us to be in the right
place at the right time.

I was walking down a dimly lit street late one
evening when I heard muffled screams coming from
behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to
listen, and panicked when I realized that what I was
hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle:
heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric.

Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked.
Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety,
and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a
new route home that night. What if I became another
statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone
and call the police?

Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in
my head had taken only seconds, but already the girl's
cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How
could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I
could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman,
even if it meant risking my own life.

I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I don't know
where I found the moral courage and physical strength --
but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became
strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and pulled
the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the
ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the
attacker jumped up and escaped.

Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached
the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In
the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I
could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting
to frighten her further, I at first spoke to her from a
distance. "It's okay," I said soothingly. "The man ran away.
You're safe now." There was a long pause and then I heard
the words, uttered in wonder, in amazement. "Daddy, is that you?"
And then, from behind the tree, out stepped my youngest
daughter, Katherine.

Author Unknown

___________________________________________________________________

THE IMPORTANCE OF TAKING RISKS SOMETIMES

A number of years ago (1983-1987), I had the opportunity to play the character of Ronald McDonald for the McDonald's Corporation. My marketplace covered most of Arizona and a portion of Southern California.

One of our standard events was "Ronald Day." One day each month, we visited as many of the community hospitals as possible, bringing a little happiness into a place where no one ever looks forward to going.

I was very proud to be able to make a difference for children and adults who were experiencing some "down time." The warmth and gratification I would receive stayed with me for weeks. I loved the project, McDonald's loved the project, the kids and adults loved it and so did the nursing and hospital staffs.

There were two restrictions placed on me during a visit. First I could not go anywhere in the hospital without McDonald's personnel (my handlers) as well as the hospital personnel. That way, if I were to walk into a room and frighten a child, there was someone there to address the issue immediately. And second, I could not physically touch anyone within the hospital. They did not want me transferring germs from one patient to another. I understood why they had this "don't touch" rule, but I didn't like it. I believe that touching is the most honest form of communication we will ever know. Printed and spoken words can lie; it is impossible to lie with a warm hug.

Breaking either of these rules, I was told, meant I could lose my job.

Toward the end of my fourth year of "Ronald Days," as I was heading down a hallway after a long day in grease paint and on my way home, I heard a little voice. "Ronald, Ronald."

I stopped. The soft little voice was coming through a half-opened door. I pushed the door open and saw a young boy, about five years old, lying in his dad's arms, hooked up to more medical equipment than I had ever seen. Mom was on the other side, along with Grandma, Grandpa and a nurse tending to the equipment.

I knew by the feeling in the room that the situation was grave. I asked the little boy his name - he told me it was Billy - and I did a few simple magic tricks for him. As I stepped back to say good-bye, I asked Billy if there was anything else I could do for him.

"Ronald, would you hold me?"

Such a simple request. But what ran trough my mind was that if I touched him, I could lose my job. So I told Billy I could not do that right now, but I suggested that he and I color a picture. Upon completing a wonderful piece of art that we were both very proud of, Billy asked me to hold him again. By this time my heart was screaming "Yes!" But my mind was screaming louder. "No, you are going to lose your job."

This second time that Billy asked me, I had to ponder why I could not grant the simple request of a little boy who would probably not be going home. I asked myself why was I being logically and emotionally torn apart by someone I had never seen before and would probably never see again.

"Hold me." It was such a simple request, and yet...

I searched for any reasonable response that would allow me to leave. I could not come up with a single one. It took me a moment to realize that in this situation, losing my job may not be the disaster I feared.

Was losing my job the worst thing in the world?

Did I have enough self-belief that if I did lose my job, I would be able to pick up and start again? The answer was a loud, bold, affirming "Yes!" I could pick up and start again.
So what was the risk?

Just that if I lost my job, it probably would not be long before I would first lose my car, then my home... and to be honest with you, I really liked those things. But I realized that at the end of my life, the car would have no value and neither would the house. The only things that had steadfast value were experiences.

Once I reminded myself the real reason I was there was to bring a little happiness to an unhappy environment, I realized that I really faced no risk at all.

I sent Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa out of the room, and my two McDonald's escorts out to the van. The nurse tending the medical equipment stayed, but Billy asked her to stand and face the corner. Then I picked up this little wonder of a human being.

He was so frail and so scared. We laughed and cried for 45 minutes, and talked about the things that worried him. Billy was afraid that his little brother might get lost coming home from kindergarten next year, without Billy to show him the way. He worried that his dog wouldn't get another bone because Billy had hidden the bones in the house before going back to the hospital, and now he couldn't remember where he put them.

These are problems to a little boy who knows he is not going home.

On my way out of the room, with tear-streaked makeup running down my neck, I gave Mom and Dad my real name and phone number (another automatic dismissal from McDonald's, but I figured that I was gone and had nothing to lose), and said if there was anything the McDonald's Corporation or I could do, to give me a call and consider it done.

Less than 48 hours later, I received a phone call from Billy's mom. She informed me that Billy had passed away. She and her husband simply wanted to thank me for making a difference in their little boy's life.

Billy's mom told me that shortly after I left the room, Billy looked at her and said, "Momma, I don't care anymore if I see Santa this year because...I was held by Ronald McDonald!"

Sometimes we must do what is right for the moment, regardless of the perceived risk. Only experiences have value, and the one biggest reason people limit their experiences is because of the risk involved.

For the record, McDonald's did find out about Billy and me, but given the circumstances, permitted me to retain my job. I continued as Ronald for another year before leaving the corporation to share the story of Billy and how important it is to take risks.

(By Jeff McMullen)

How to Dance in the Rain

It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived at the hospital to have stitches removed from his thumb.

He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.
The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.

He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's disease.
As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.

He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.
I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?'

He smiled
As he patted my hand and said, 'She doesn't know me, But I still know who she is.'
I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought,

'That is the kind of love I want in my life.' True love is neither Physical, nor romantic.
True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

With all the jokes and fun that are in e-mails, sometimes there is one that comes along that has an important message. This one I thought
I could share with you.
The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; They just make the best Of everything they have.
I hope you share this with someone you care about.
I just did.

'Life isn't about how to survive the storm, But how to dance in the rain.

_________________________________________________________________________

THE SECRET OF MONEY

GIVE MONEY TO GET MONEY

Giving is a powerful action to bring more money into your life, because when you are giving you are saying, "I have plenty." It will not be surprising to you to learn that the wealthiest people on the planet are the greatest philanthropists. They give away vast amounts of money, and as they give, by the law of attraction, the Universe opens up and floods vast amounts of money back to them - multiplied!

If you are thinking, "I don't have enough money to give", bingo! Now you know why you don't have enough money! When you think you don't have enough to give, start giving. As you demonstrate faith in giving, the law of attraction must give you more to give.

There is a big difference between giving and sacrificing. Giving from a heart that is overflowing feels so good. Sacrificing does not feel good. Don't confuse the two - they are diametrically opposed. One emits a signal of lack and the other emits a signal of more-than-enough. One feels good and ones does not feel good. Sacrifice will eventually lead to resentment. Giving from a full heart is one of the most joyous things you can do, and the law of attraction will grab hold of that signal and flood even more into your life. You can feel the difference.

This has been taken from "THE SECRET", something we feel will not only change people's lives but ultimately help to change the world!

__________________________________________________________________________

THREE HAIRS OF A LION

SEGAB'S mother died when he was 11 years old. His father married another woman, Bizunesh. Segab did not like Bizunesh. But Bizunesh tried to be a good mother to him.

She made good breakfasts, dinners, and suppers, but he did not eat them. She bought him many good clothes, but he did not look at them. She gave him new shoes, but he threw them away. Whenever she spoke to him, he always ran away.

One day the poor woman said to Segab, "I always wanted to have a son, and now I have you, Segab. I love you very much, my dear boy!"
But Segab said angrily, "I'm not your son, and you are not my mother. My mother is death. I do not love you. I will never love you."

Bizunesh was very sad and cried all night. In the morning she decided to go to a wise old man. She told him about Segab who did not lover her.
The old man said, "I can help you. But first you must bring me three hairs of a lion."
"But how can I do this? The Lion will kill me," Bizunesh said.
"I cannot answer your question. I need three hairs of a lion. Try to get them."

So Bizunesh went out to try to get the hairs. She went far, far away from her house and came to a place where a lion lived. The lion was very big and roared angrily. He was hungry. Bizunesh was afraid of him and ran away quickly.
The next day she came back with some meat for the lion. She put the meat not far from him and ran away. The lion saw the meat and ate it all very quickly.

The following day she again brought some meat for the lion and put it a little nearer. Again the lion ate it all up.
Every day Bizunesh brought some meat for the lion, and he soon understood that the woman was his friend. He was not angry, and he did not roar. He was happy to see her.

Finally, one day Bizunesh came very near to the lion and gave him the meat from her hand. At the same time she tore three hairs off his back. The lion was not angry.
Bizunesh ran to the old man and showed him the hairs."What must I do with them now?" she asked.

"Nothing" he answered. "You know how to get near a lion, little by little, step by step. Do the same with Segab, I am sure he will love you."

Love is very much a state of mind. Unconditional love knows no barrier and overcomes all difficulties. It is the only lesson we have to learn in giving and receiving love.

__________________________________________________________________________

SLOW DANCE

An e-mail from a terminally ill girl in a New York Hospital

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day
On the fly?

When you ask: How are you?
Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done,
do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?

You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?

And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die

Cause you never had time
To call and say, "Hi"?

You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life is not a race.
Do take it slower.

Hear the music
Before the song is over.

__________________________________________________________________________

No Matter What, Where or When

I was watching some little children play soccer. These children were only 5 or 6 years old. They were playing a real game - a serious game. There were 2 teams, complete with coaches, uniforms, and parents.
I didn't know any of them, so I was able to enjoy the game without the distraction of being anxious about winning or losing. I wished the parents and coaches could have done the same.

The teams were pretty evenly matched. I will just call them Team 1 and Team 2. Nobody scored in the first period.
In the second quarter, the Team 1 coach pulled out his best player and let him guard the goal. The game took a dramatic turn.
The Team 2 players swarmed around the little guy. He was an outstanding athlete, but he was no match for 3 or 4 who were also very good.
Team 2 began to score. The Team 1 goalie gave it everything he had, recklessly throwing his body in front of incoming balls, trying valiantly to stop them.
Team 2 scored 2 goals in quick succession. It infuriated the young boy. He became a raging maniac - shouting, running, diving.
With all the stamina he could muster, he covered the boy who now had the ball, but that boy kicked it to another boy 20 feet away, and by the time the goalie repositioned himself, it was too late - Team 2 scored a 3rd goal.

I soon learned who the goalie's parents were. They were nice, neat-looking people. I could tell that his father had just come from the office - he still had his suit and tie on. They yelled encouragement to their son.
I became totally absorbed, watching the boy on the field and his parents on the sidelines. After the 3rd goal, the little boy changed. He could see it was no use, he couldn't stop them. He didn't quit desperate, futility was written all over him.
His father changed, too. The man had been urging his son to try harder, yelling advice and encouragement.
But then he changed. He became anxious. He tried to say it was okay - to hang in there. He grieved for the pain his son was feeling.

After the 4th goal, I knew what was going to happen. I've seen it before. The little boy needed help so badly, and there was no help to be had. He retrieved the ball from the net and handed it to the referee and then he cried.
He just stood there while huge tears rolled down both cheeks. He went to his knees and put his fists to his eyes - and he cried the tears of the helpless and brokenhearted.

When the boy went to his knees, I saw the father start onto the field. His wife clutched his arm and said, "Jim, don't. You'll embarrass him."
But he tore loose from her and ran onto the field. He wasn't supposed to - the game was still in progress.
Suit, tie, shirt, shoes and all, he charged onto the field, and he picked up his son so everybody would know that this was his boy, and he hugged him and held him and cried with him.
I've never been so proud of a man in my life. He carried him off the field, and when he got close to the sidelines I heard him say, "Scotty, I'm so proud of you. You were great out there. I want everybody to know that you are my son"
"Daddy", the boy sobbed, "I couldn't stop them. I tried, Daddy, I tried and tried, and they scored on me."
"Scotty, It doesn't matter how many times they scored on you. You're my son, I'm proud of you. I want you to go back out there and finish the game. I know you want to quit, but you can't," he said.
"And son, you're going to get scored on again, but it doesn't matter. Go on now."
It made a difference. When you're all alone and you're getting scored on - and you can't stop them, it means a lot to know that it doesn't matter to those who love you.

The little guy ran back on to the field - and other team scored 2 more times, but it was okay.

- Author unknown

__________________________________________________________________________

The Four Kinds of Student

The Four Kinds of Student (Which are you?)

In describing the learning process, the Buddhist teachings make use of the metaphor of the cup. Four types of cup symbolize four kinds of students.
Instruction is symbolized by water being poured into the cup.

The first cup is upside down. This represents a student who is supposedly there to learn, but pays no attention. You may have experienced something similar while reading a book; your eyes move across the words all the way down the page, but when you get to the bottom, you realize you where daydreaming and have no idea what you read. That's what happens when a cup is turned upside down. No matter how much is poured, nothing gets in.

The second cup is right side up, but has a hole in the bottom. We hear whats being taught, but we forget it all too soon. We don't chew on it and digest it and take it to heart. For example, we might attend a training, and when we get home, be asked "what did they teach" and we say "hm, well it was....actually I don't remember?" This is the classic case of "in one ear and out the other."

The third cup is right side up and doesn't have a hole in it, but the inside is covered with dirt. When the clear water of instruction is poured in, the dirt makes it cloudy. This symbolizes the way we can distort what we hear, interpeting and editing it to fit into our preconceived ideas or opinions. Nothing new is actually learned. When we take a lesson, if the instruction matches how we already see things, it is taken as confirmation. Anything new that doesn't match our opinions is resisted, ignored or disregarded.

The fouth cup represents the ideal way to be a student. It is upright, receiving what is taught, it has no holes and retains what is taught. It is clear, open to learning something new. You can be like the fourth cup.

Which kind of a student were you whilst reading this article?

__________________________________________________________________________

Acts of Kindness

This young man was driving home one evening, on a two lane country road. Work in this small Midwestern community was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac, but he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home.

It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill, but he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and he knew the country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, this came in handy.

It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know, he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help, for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe. He looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help you Ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? Bythe way, my name is Bryan."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire.But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through.

She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.
Bryan never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Bryan added "...and think of me." He waited until she started her car and drove off.

It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor--it didn't ring much.

Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase.

The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger.

Then she remembered Bryan ...

After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get change for a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on the napkin under which were 4 one-hundred dollar bills. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote. It said: "You don't owe me anything, I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard.

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her. She gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be all right - I love you, Bryan."

PRACTICE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS!!! We are never prepared for what we receive!!!

____________________________________________________________________________

Love Installation

Here's a step-by-step guide to installing love on the human machine.

Customer: I can do that. I'm not very technical, but I think I am ready to install now. What do I do first?

Tech Support: The first step is to open your HEART. Have you located your HEART ma'am?

Customer: Yes I have, but there are several programmes running right now. Is it okay to install while they are running?

Tech Support: What programmes are running ma'am?

Customer: Let me see... I have PASTHURT.EXE, LOWESTEEM.EXE, GRUDGE.EXE, and RESENTMENT.COM running right now.

Tech Support: No Problem. LOVE will automatically erase PASTHURT.EXE from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory, but it will no longer disrupt other programmes LOVE will eventually overwrite LOWESTEEM.EXE with a module of its own called HIGHESTEEM.EXE. However, you have to completely turn off GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM. Those programmes prevent LOVE from being properly installed. Can you turn those off ma'am?

Customer: I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how?

Tech Support: My pleasure. Go to your Start menu and invoke FORGIVENESS.EXE. Do this as many times as necessary until GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM have been completely erased.

Customer: Okay, I'm done. Love has started installing itself automatically. Is that normal?

Tech Support: Yes it is. You should receive a message that says it will reisntall for the life of your heart. Do you see that message?

Customer: Yes I do. Is it completely installed?

Tech Support: Yes, but remember that you have only the base programme. You need to begin connecting to other HEARTS in order to get the upgrades.

Customer:Oops... I have an error message already. What should I do?

Tech Support: What does the message say?

Customer:: It says "ERROR 412- PROGRAMME NOT RUN ON INTERNAL COMPONENTS". What does that mean?

Tech Support: Don't worry ma'am, that's a common problem. It means that the LOVE programme is set up to run on external HEARTS but has not yet been run on your HEART. It is one of those complicated programming things, but in non-technical terms it means - "you have to "LOVE" your own machine before it can "LOVE" others.

Customer: So what should I do?

Tech Support: Can you find the directory called "SELF-ACCEPTANCE"?

Customer: Yes, I have it.

Tech Support: Excellent, you are getting good at this.

Customer: Thank you.

Tech Support: You're welcome. Click on the following files and then copy them to the "MYHEART" directory: FORGIVESELF.DOC, SELFESTEM.TXT, REALISEWORTH.TXT, and GOODNESS.DOC. The system will overwrite and conflicting files and begin patching and faulty programming. Also, you need to delete SELFCRITIC.EXE from all directories, and then empty your recycly bin afterwards to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back.

Customer: Go it. Hey! My HEART is filling up with really neat files. SMILE.MPG is playing on my monitor right now and it shows that WARMTH.COM, PEACE.EXE, and CONTENTMENT.COM are copying themselves all over my HEART!

Tech Support: Then LOVE is installed and running. You should be able to handle it from here. One more thing before I go.

Customer: Yes?

Tech Support: LOVE is freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everybody you meet. They will in turn share it with other people and they will return some really neat modules back to you.

Customer: I will. Thank you for your help.

- Author unknown

__________________________________________________________________________

KEEP ON SINGING

The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. The following story cleary shows that we are all born for love.

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 found out that the baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in his mother's tummy.
Finally, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in serious condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at the nearest hospital.
The days inched by. The little girl became worse. The paediatric specialist told the parents to be prepared for the worst. Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot.
They originally fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby - now they planned a funeral.

Michael kept begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her", he said.

The 2nd week came along and Michael's baby sister was still in intensive care. It looked asa if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but children are not allowed in Intensive Care.
Karen made up her mind. She decided to take Michael whether they like it or not. If he didn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive.
She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognised him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid out of here now! No Children are allowed."

The mother in Karen rose up strong, and usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"
Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he began to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray..."
Instantly the baby girl responded. Her pulse rate became calm and steady. "Keep on singing, Michael."
..."You never now, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away..." Her strained breathing became smoother.
"Keep on singing, Michael."
..."The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..."

Michael's little sister relaxed as healing rest seemed to sweep over her.
"Keep on singing, Michael."

Tears conquered the face of the bossy head nurse.
.."You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't, take my sunshine away."

The very next day the little girl was well enough to go home!

Woman's Day magazine called it "The Miracle of a Brother's Song".

Where there is great love there are always miracles.
Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love.
The real miracle is the Love that inspires them.

__________________________________________________________________________

DON'T WE ALL

I was parked in front of the mall wiping off my car. I had just come from the car wash and was waiting for my wife to get out of work. Coming my way from across the parking lot was what society would consider a bum.

From the looks of him, he had no car, no home, no clean clothes, and no money. There are times when you feel generous but there are other times that you just don't want to be bothered. This was one of those "don't want to be bothered times."
"I hope he doesn't ask me for any money," I thought. He didn't.

He came and sat on the curb in front of the bus stop but he didn't look like he could have enough money to even ride the bus. After a few minutes he spoke.
"That's a very pretty car," he said.

He was ragged but he had an air of dignity around him. His scraggly blond beard keep more than his face warm. I said, "thanks," and continued wiping off my car.

He sat there quietly as I worked. The expected plea for money never came. As the silence between us widened something inside said, "ask him if he needs any help." I was sure that he would say "yes" but I held true to the inner voice.

"Do you need any help?" I asked.

He answered in three simple but profound words that I shall never forget. We often look for wisdom in great men and women. We expect it from those of higher learning and accomplishments.

I expected nothing but an outstretched grimy hand. He spoke the three words that shook me.
"Don't we all?" he said. I was feeling high and mighty, successful and important, above a bum
in the street, until those three words hit me like a twelve gauge shotgun.

Don't we all?

I needed help. Maybe not for bus fare or a place to sleep, but I needed help. I reached in my wallet and gave him not only enough for bus fare, but enough to get a warm meal and shelter for the day. Those three little words still ring true. No matter how much you have, no matter
how much you have accomplished, you need help too. No matter how little you have, no matter how loaded you are with problems, even without money or a place to sleep, you can give help.

Even if it's just a compliment, you can give that. You never know when you may see someone that appears to have it all. They are waiting on you to give them what they don't have. A different perspective on life, a glimpse at something beautiful, a respite from daily chaos, that only you through a torn world can see. Maybe the man was just a homeless stranger wandering the streets. Maybe he was more than that.

Maybe he was sent by a power that is great and
wise, to minister to a soul too comfortable in themselves.

Maybe God looked down, called an Angel, dressed him like a bum, then said, "go minister to that man cleaning the car, that man needs help."

Don't we all?

Author Unknown

__________________________________________________________________________

THE ARMY SON

THE Creightons were very proud of their son, Frank. When he went to college, naturally they missed him; but he wrote and they looked forward to his letters and saw him on weekends. Then Frank was drafted into the army. After he had been in the army about 5 months, he received his call to go to Vietnam. Of course, the parents' anxiety for his first letter was greater than ever before. And every week they heard from him and were thankful for his well-being.

Then one week went by without a letter - 2 weeks - and finally 3. At the end of the third week a telegram came, saying, "We regret to inform you that your son has been missing for 3 weeks and is presumed to have been killed in action while fighting for his country."

The parents were shocked and grieved. They tried to accept the situation and go on living, but it was tragically lonesome without Frank.

About 3 weeks later, however, the phone rang. When Mrs Creighton answered it, a voice on the other end said, said "Mother it's Frank. They found me, and I'm going to be all right. I'm in the United States and I'm coming home soon."

Mrs Creighton was overjoyed, with tears running down her cheeks she sobbed, "Oh, that's wonderful! That's just wonderful, Frank."
There was a silence for a moment, and then Frank said, "Mother I want to ask you something that is important to me. While I've been here, I've met a lot of wonderful people and I've really become close friends with some.
"There is one fellow I would like to bring home with me to meet you and Dad. And I would like to know if it would be all right if he could stay and live with us, because he has no place to go."

His mother assured him it would be all right.

Then Frank said , "You see, he wasn't as lucky as some; he was injured in battle. He was hit by a blast and his face is all disfigured. He lost his leg, and his right hand is missing. So you see, he feels uneasy about others will accept him."

Frank's mother stopped to think a minute. She began to wonder how things would work out, and what people in town would think of someone like that. She said, "Sure Frank, you bring him home - for a visit, that is. We would love to meet him and have him stay for a while; but about him staying with us permanently, well, we'll have to think about that."

There was a silence for a minute, and then Frank said, Okay, Mother" and hung up.

A week went on by without any word from Frank, and then a telegram arrived - "We regret to inform you that your son has taken his life. We would like you to come and identify the body."

Their wonderful son was gone. The horror-stricken parents could only ask themselves, "Why had he done this?"

When they walked into the room to identify the body of their son, they found a young man with a disfigured face, one leg missing and his right hand gone.

Love is very much a state of mind. Unconditional love knows no barrier and overcomes all difficulties. It is the only lesson we have to learn and giving and receiving love.

__________________________________________________________________________

An Elfs Tale

An Elf’s Tale From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Christmas Cheer

It was six o’clock at the mall, and I was as exhausted as an elf on Christmas Eve. In fact, I was an elf and it was Christmas Eve. That December of my sixteenth year, I’d been working two jobs to help my parents with my school tuition and to make a little extra holiday money. My second job was as an elf for Santa to help with kids’ photos. Between my two jobs, I’d worked twelve hours straight the day before; on Christmas Eve, things were so busy at Santaland that I hadn’t even had a coffee break all day. But this was it -- only minutes more, and I’d have survived!

I looked over at Shelly, our manager, and she gave me an encouraging smile. She was the reason I’d made it through. She’d been thrown in as manager halfway through the season, and she’d made all the difference in the world. My job had changed from stress-filled to challenging. Instead of yelling at her workers to keep us in line, she encouraged us and stood behind us. She made us pull together as a team. Especially when things were their craziest, she always had a smile and an encouraging word. Under her leadership, we’d achieved the highest number of mall photo sales in California.

I knew it was a difficult holiday season for her -- she’d recently suffered a miscarriage. I hoped she knew how great she was and what a difference she’d made to all her workers, and to all the little children who’d come to have their pictures taken.

Our booth was open until seven; at six, things started to slow down and I finally took a break. Although I didn’t have much money, I really wanted to buy a little gift for Shelly so that she’d know we appreciated her. I got to a store that sold soap and lotion just as they put the grate down. “Sorry, we’re closed!” barked the clerk, who looked as tired as I was and didn’t sound sorry at all.

I looked around and, to my dismay, found that all the stores had closed. I’d been so tired I hadn’t noticed.

I was really bummed. I had been working all day and had missed buying her a present by one minute.

On my way back to the Santa booth, I saw that Nordstrom was still open. Fearful that they, too, would close at any moment, I hurried inside and followed the signs toward the Gift Gallery. As I rushed through the store, I began to feel very conspicuous. It seemed the other shoppers were all very well-dressed and wealthy -- and here I was a broke teenager in an elf costume. How could I even think I’d find something in such a posh store for under fifteen dollars?

I self-consciously jingled my way into the Gift Gallery. A woman sales associate, who also looked as if she’d just stepped off a fashion runway, came over and asked if she could help me. As she did, everyone in the department turned and stared.

As quietly as possible, I said, “No, that’s okay. Just help somebody else.”

She looked right at me and smiled. “No,” she said. “I want to help you.”

I told the woman who I was buying for and why, then I sheepishly admitted I only had fifteen dollars to spend. She looked as pleased and thoughtful as if I’d just asked to spend $1500. By now, the department had emptied, but she carefully went around, selecting a few things that would make a nice basket. The total came to $14.09.

The store was closing; as she rang up the purchase, the lights were turned off.

I was thinking that if I could take them home and wrap them, I could make them really pretty but I didn’t have time.

As if reading my mind, the saleslady asked, “Do you need this wrapped?”

“Yes,” I said.

By now the store was closed. Over the intercom, a voice asked if there were still customers in the store. I knew this woman was probably as eager to get home on Christmas Eve as everybody else, and here she was stuck waiting on some kid with a measly purchase.

But she was gone in the back room a long time. When she returned, she brought out the most beautiful basket I’d ever seen. It was all wrapped up in silver and gold, and looked as if I’d spent fifty dollars on it -- at least. I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy!

When I thanked her, she said, “You elves are out in the mall spreading joy to so many people, I just wanted to bring a little joy to you.”

“Merry Christmas, Shelly,” I said back at the booth. My manager gasped when she saw the present; she was so touched and happy that she started crying. I hoped it gave a happy start to her Christmas.

All through the holidays, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kindness and effort of the saleswoman, and how much joy she had brought to me, and in turn to my manager. I thought the least I could do was to write a letter to the store and let them know about it. About a week later, I got a reply from the store, thanking me for writing.

I thought that was the end of it, until mid-January.

That’s when I got a call from Stephanie, the sales associate. She wanted to take me to lunch. Me, a fifteen-dollar, sixteen-year-old customer.

When we met, Stephanie gave me a hug, and a present, and told me this story.

She had walked into a recent employee meeting to find herself on the list of nominees to be named the Nordstrom All-Star. She was confused but excited, as she had never before been nominated. At the point in the meeting when the winner was announced, they called Stephanie -- she’d won! When she went up front to accept the award, her manager read my letter out loud. Everyone gave her a huge round of applause.

Winning meant that her picture was put up in the store lobby, she got new business cards with Nordstrom All-Star written on them, a 14-karat gold pin, a 100-dollar award, and was invited to represent her department at the regional meeting.

At the regional meeting, they read my letter and everyone gave Stephanie a standing ovation. “This is what we want all of our employees to be like!” said the manager who read the letter. She got to meet three of the Nordstrom brothers, who were each very complimentary.

I was already a little overwhelmed when Stephanie took my hand. “But that’s not the best part, Tyree,” she said. “The day of that first store meeting, I took a list of the nominees, and put your letter behind it, with the 100-dollar bill behind that. I took it home and gave it to my father. He read everything and looked at me and said, “When do you find out who won?”

“I said, ‘I won, Dad.’”

“He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘Stephanie, I’m really proud of you.’”

Quietly, she said, “My dad has never said he was proud of me.”

I think I’ll remember that moment all my life. That was when I realized what a powerful gift appreciation can be. Shelly’s appreciation of her workers had set into motion a chain of events -- Stephanie’s beautiful basket, my letter, Nordstrom’s award -- that had changed at least three lives.

Though I’d heard it all my life, it was the Christmas when I was an elf -- and a broke teenager -- that I truly came to understand that the littlest things can make the biggest difference.

__________________________________________::____________________________