It was fifty years ago on a hot summer day in the deep south.

We lived on a dirt road on a sand lot. We were what was known as "dirt poor."

I had been playing outside all morning in the sand when suddenly, I heard a sharp clanking sound behind me and when I looked over my shoulder, my eyes were drawn to a strange sight!

Across the dirt road were two rows of men, dressed in black and white, striped, baggy uniforms. Their faces were covered with dust and sweat. They looked so weary, and they were chained together with huge black iron chains. Hanging from the end of each chained row was a big black iron ball. They were, as polite people said in those days, a "Chain Gang," guarded by two, heavily armed white guards.

I stared at the prisoners as they settled uncomfortably down in the dirt under the shade of some straggly trees.

One of the guards walked toward me.

Nodding as he passed, he went up to our front door and knocked. My mother appeared at the door, and I heard the guard ask if he could have permission to get water from the pump in the backyard so that "his men" could "have a drink." My mother agreed, but I saw a look of concern on her face as she called me inside.

I stared through the window as each prisoner was unchained from the line to hobble over to the pump and drink his fill from a small tin cup, while a guard watched vigilantly. It wasn't long before they were all chained back up again, with prisoners and guards retreating into the shade, away from the unrelenting sun.

I heard my mother call me into the kitchen, and I entered to see her bustling around with tins of tuna fish, mayonnaise, our last loaf of bread, and two big pitchers of lemonade. In what seemed like "a blink of an eye," she had made a tray of sandwiches using all the tuna we were going to have for that night's supper.

My mother was smiling as she handed me one of the pitchers of lemonade, cautioning me to carry it "carefully" and to "not spill a drop." Then lifting the tray in one hand and holding a pitcher in her other hand, she marched me to the door, deftly opening it with her foot, and trotted me across the street.

She approached the guards, flashing them with a brilliant smile.

"We had some leftovers from lunch," she said, "and I was wondering if we could share with you and your men." She smiled at each of the men, searching their dark eyes with her own eyes of "robin's egg blue." Everyone started to their feet. "Oh no!" she said. "Stay where you are. I'll just serve you!"

Calling me to her side, she went from guard to guard, then from prisoner to prisoner, filling each tin cup with lemonade, and giving each man a sandwich. It was very quiet except for a "thank you, ma'am," and the clanking of the chains. Very soon, we were at the end of the line, my mother's eyes softly scanning each face.

The last prisoner was a big man, his dark skin pouring with sweat, and streaked with dust. Suddenly, his face broke into a wonderful smile as he looked up into my mother's eyes and said, "Ma'am, I've wondered all my life if I'd ever see an angel, and now I have. Thank you!"

Again, my mother's smile took in the whole group. "You're all welcome!" she said. "God bless you." Then we walked across to the house with empty trays and pitchers, and back inside. Soon, the men moved on, and I never saw them again.

The only explanation my mother ever gave me for that strange and wonderful day was to "remember, always, to entertain strangers, for by doing so, you may entertain angels without even knowing." Then with a mysterious smile, she went about the rest of the day.

I don't remember what we ate for supper that night, but I know it was served by an angel.

--Jaye Lewis

Blessings,

Mike

The Circus: 

Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. That family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. By the way they were dressed, you could tell they didn't have a lot of money, but their clothes were neat and clean.

The children were well-behaved; all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, animals, and all the acts they would be seeing that night. By their excitement, you could sense they had never been to the circus before. It would be a highlight of their lives.

The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armor." He was smiling and enjoying his family.

The ticket lady asked the man how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, "I'd like to buy eight child tickets and two adult tickets, so I can take my family to the circus." The ticket lady stated the price.

The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, and the man's lip began to quiver. Then he leaned a little closer and asked, "How much did you say?" The ticket lady again stated the price. The man didn't have enough money. How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn't have enough money to take them to the circus?

Seeing what was going on, my dad reached into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill, and then dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!) My father bent down, picked up the $20 bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket."

The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout, but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied, "Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family."

My father and I went back to our car and drove home. The $20 that my dad gave away was what we were going to buy our own tickets with. Although we didn't get to see the circus that night, we both felt a joy inside us that was far greater than seeing the circus could ever provide.

--Unknown

I heard a story about an older woman who stood in line at the Post Office.  She struck up a conversation with a young man next to her.  He noticed that she had no packages to mail, and asked why she was standing in line.  She said that she just needed a few stamps.

"Ma'am, you must be tired standing here.  Did you know there's a stamp machine over there in the corner?" He pointed to the machine built into the wall.

"Why yes, thank you," the lady replied, "but I'll just wait here a little while longer.  I'm getting close to the window."

The customer became insistent.

"But it would be so much easier for you to avoid this long line and buy your stamps from the machine."

The woman patted him on the arm and answered, "Oh, I know.  But that old machine would never ask me how my grandchildren are doing."

She had a need greater than the need for postage stamps -- a need to feel connected to other people.  And it was a need that could not be met by a stamp machine.

When Harry Truman was thrust into the U.S.  presidency at the death of Franklin Roosevelt, a colleague and friend -- Congressman Sam Rayburn of Bonham, Texas -- gave Truman some fatherly advice.

Rayburn said, "Harry, from here on out, you're going to have lots of people around you.  They'll try to put a wall around you and cut you off from any ideas but theirs.  They'll tell you what a great man you are, Harry.  But you and I both know you ain't." Friends can say those things to each other.

Later, when Sam Rayburn discovered that he was seriously ill, he told his friends in Congress that he was going home to Bonham for medical tests.  "But there are excellent doctors and medical facilities in Washington D.C." some of them argued.  "Why would you want to go to Bonham?"

"Because," the congressman replied, "Bonham is a place where people know it when you're sick, and where they care when you die."

Rayburn had a need greater than good medical assistance.  He needed friends.  Someone to ask how his grandchildren were doing.  Someone to sit by him and stop by his home.  Someone to care.  A few close friends meant more than the best medical facilities in the world.

Who is such a friend to you?  That person is more valuable than your greatest possession.

Have you said ...  thanks?

By the way. . . . .Thanks!! 

Mike Fesler 

Once upon a time there was a rich King who had four wives. He loved
the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her
to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best. He
also loved the 3rd wife very much and was always showing her off to
neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared that one day she would leave
him for another.

He also loved his 2nd wife. She was his confidante and was always
kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the King faced a
problem, he could confide in her, and she would help him get through
the difficult times. The King's first wife was a very loyal partner
and had made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and
kingdom. However, he did not love the first wife. Although she loved
him deeply, he hardly took notice of her!

One day, the King fell ill and he knew his time was short. He thought
of his luxurious life and wondered, "I now have four wives with me,
but when I die, I'll be all alone." Thus, he asked the fourth
wife , "I loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing
and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow
me and keep me company?" "No way!", replied the fourth wife, and she
walked away without another word. Her answer cut like a sharp knife
right into his heart.

The sad King then asked the third wife, "I loved you all my life. Now
that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No!",
replied the third wife. "Life is too good! When you die, I'm going to
remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold. He then asked the second
wife, "I have always turned to you for help and you've always been
there for me. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?"

"I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!", replied the second
wife. "At the very most, I can only walk with you to your grave." Her
answer struck him like a bolt of lightning, and the King was
devastated.

Then a voice called out: "I'll go with you. I'll follow
you no matter where you go. "The King looked up, and there was his
first wife. She was very skinny as she suffered from malnutrition and
neglect. Greatly grieved, the King said, "I should have taken much
better care of you when I had the chance!"

In truth, we all have the 4 wives in our lives:

Our 4th wife is our body.

No matter how much time and effort we
lavish in making it look good, it will leave us when we die.

Our third wife is our possessions

Status and wealth. When we die,
it will all go to others.

Our second wife is our family and friends.

No matter how much they
have been there for us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the
grave.

Our first wife is our Soul.

Often neglected in pursuit of wealth,
power and pleasures of the world. However, our Soul is the only thing
that will follow us wherever we go.

Cultivate, strengthen and cherish it now, for it is the only part of
us that will follow us to the throne of God and continue being with
us throughout Eternity.

Thought for the day:
Remember, when the world pushes you to your knees, you're in the
perfect position to pray.

Mike 

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? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson."

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. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about being paid. 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 that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance 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 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 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, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.

There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: "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."

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.

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 going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson."

Mike 

A teacher in
New York decided to honor each of her seniors in High School by telling them the difference each of them had made. She called each student to the front of the class, one at a time.

First, she told each of them how they had made a difference to her, and the class. Then she presented each of them with a blue ribbon, imprinted with gold letters, which read, "Who I Am Makes a Difference."

Afterwards, the teacher decided to do a class project, to see what kind of impact recognition would have on a community. She gave each of the students three more blue ribbons, and instructed them to go out and spread this acknowledgment ceremony. Then they were to follow
up on the results, see who honored whom, and report to the class in about a week.

One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby company, and honored him for helping him with his career planning. He gave him a blue ribbon, and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons and said, "We're doing a class project on recognition, and we'd like for you to go out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue ribbon, then give them the extra blue ribbon so they can
acknowledge a third person, to keep this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please report back to me and tell me what happened."

Later that day, the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss down, and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative genius. The boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him if he would accept the gift of the blue ribbon, and would he give him permission to put it on him.

His surprised boss said, "Well, sure." The junior executive took the blue ribbon and placed it right on his boss's jacket, above his heart.

As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he said, "Would you take this extra ribbon, and pass it on by honoring somebody else. The young boy who first gave me the ribbons is doing a project in school, and we want to keep this recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people."

That night, the boss came home to his 14-year-old son, and sat him down. He said, "The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my office, and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired me, and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius.

Imagine! He thinks I am a creative genius! Then he put a blue ribbon that says, "Who I Am Makes a Difference", on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and asked me to find somebody else to honor. As I was driving home tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honor with this ribbon, and I thought about you. I want to honor you.

My days are hectic and when I come home, I do not pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting good enough grades in school, and for your bedroom being a mess. Somehow, tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you
are the most important person in my life. You're a great kid, and I love you!"

The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he could not stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears, "Dad, earlier tonight I sat in my room and wrote a letter to you and Mom, explaining why I had taken my own life, and I asked you to forgive me. I was going to commit suicide tonight after you were asleep. I just did not think that you cared at all.
The letter is upstairs. I don't think I need it after all."

His father walked upstairs and found a heartfelt letter full of
anguish and pain.

The boss went back to work a changed man. He was no longer a grouch, but made sure to let all of his employees know that they made a difference.

The junior executive helped other young people with career planning, and never forgot to let them know that they made a difference in his life...one being the boss' son. In addition, the young boy and his classmates learned a valuable lesson, "Who you are DOES make a difference".

You are under no obligation to pass this on to anyone.... not to two people, or to two hundred. As far as I am concerned, you can forget it and move on. On the other hand, if you want, you could send it to all of the people who mean something to you, or send it to the one, two, or three people who mean the most.

On the other hand, just smile and know that I think that you are important, or you would not have received this in the first place.
Who you are does make a difference, and I wanted you to know that.

Isn't this a wonderful story? I'm passing the blue ribbon to you, for who YOU are does make a difference, too.

May GOD BLESS YOU. Have an awesome day, and know that someone has thought about you today!

Mike 

The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24
hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2
cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in
front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very
large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf
balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed
that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into
the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open
areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the
jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the
jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once
more if the jar was full. The students responded with a
resounding "YES!"

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table
and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the
empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I want you to
recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the
important things---God, your family, your children, your health, your
friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost
and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles
are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your
car. The sand is everything else---the small stuff."

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no
room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If
you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never
have room for the things that are important to you."
"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Play with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with
grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out
to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the
house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first---the
things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just
sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee
represented.

The professor smiled and said, "I'm glad you asked. The coffee just
shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always
room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

Mike

THE POWER OF THREE LITTLE WORDS

Some of the most significant messages people deliver to one another often come in just three words. When spoken or conveyed, those statements have the power to forge new friendships, deepen old ones and restore relationships that have cooled.

The following three word phrases can enrich every relationship:

I'LL BE THERE - Being there for another person is the greatest gift we can give. When we are truly present for other people, important things happen to them and to us. We are renewed in love and friendship. We are restored emotionally and spiritually. 'Being there' is at the very, very core of civility.

I MISS YOU - Perhaps more marriages could be salvaged and strengthened if couples simply and sincerely said to each other, "I miss you." This powerful affirmation tells partners they are wanted, needed, desired and loved.

I RESPECT YOU - Respect is another way of showing love. Respect conveys the feeling that another person is a true equal. It is a powerful way to affirm the importance of a relationship.

MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT - This phrase is highly effective in diffusing an argument and restoring frayed emotions. The flip side of "maybe you're right" is the humility of admitting "maybe I'm wrong."

PLEASE FORGIVE ME - Many broken relationships could be restored and healed if people would admit their mistakes and ask for forgiveness. All of us are vulnerable to faults, foibles and failures. A man should never be ashamed to own up to he has been in the wrong, which is by saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.

I THANK YOU - Gratitude is an exquisite form of courtesy. People who enjoy the companionship of good, close friends are those who don't take daily courtesies for granted. They are quick to thank their friends for their many expressions of kindness. On the other hand, people whose circle of friends is severely constricted often do not have the attitude of gratitude.

COUNT ON ME - "A friend is one who walks in when others walk out." "Loyalty is an essential ingredient for true friendship; it is the emotional glue that bonds people. Those who are rich in their relationships tend to be steady and true friends. When troubles come, a good friend is there, indicating "you can count on me."

LET ME HELP - The best of friends see a need and try to fill it. When they spot a hurt they do what they can to heal it. Without being asked, they pitch in and help.

I UNDERSTAND YOU - People become closer and enjoy each other more if they feel the other person accepts and understands them. Letting others know in so many little ways that you understand him or her is one of the most powerful tools for healing your relationship.

GO FOR IT - Some of your friends may be non-conformists, have unique projects and unusual hobbies. Support them in pursuing their interests. Rather than urging your loved ones to conform, encourage their uniqueness - everyone has dreams that no one else has.

I suppose the 3 little words that you were expecting to see have to be reserved for those who are special; that is

I LOVE YOU.
Author Unknown

Mike 

Steve Yankopoulos, of Londonderry, N.H., was born with cystic fibrosis, a devastating disease that causes the lungs to retain fluid and eventually leads to an early death.

 “People have always said I can’t do things,” Yankopoulos said.  “I was told I couldn’t do any sport, and I was told I wouldn’t live until I was 22.”

On April 16, Yankopoulos, age 22, completed the Boston Marathon.

Running the 26.2-mile race in 4 hours, 47 minutes would be an achievement for any healthy human, but Yankopoulos had the added complication of injuring his foot halfway through the race.  He subsequently learned he had broken a bone.

The marathon was the latest in a series of accomplishments for Yankopoulos.  On Sunday, he’ll  graduate from Boston’s Lasell College, where he played baseball and basketball and ran cross country.  He plans to be a sports agent and has already formed his own sports-management firm.  Not bad for a 5-foot-3, 110-pound guy who has to spend two weeks every two or three months in the hospital taking intravenous antibiotics to clear out his lungs.

“To be honest, with all his hospitalizations, we were just hoping he’d make it through high school,” said his father, George.  “He had to drop out of classes and take time off, but he made the classes up and did it.”

Though Yankopoulos admits he doesn’t particularly enjoy running, he says he’ll run the marathon again because he wants to inspire others.

“This is a chance to get people to try something they don’t think they can do,” he said. “I think I’ve shown that if you have a positive attitude and never give up, you can accomplish anything you want.”

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you."

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who has been a widow for 19 years. But, the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night, I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

"What's wrong, are you well"? she asked.

My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

"I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you," I responded. "Just the two of us."

She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much."

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up, I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date.

She waited by the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary.

She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's.

"I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car.

"They can't wait to hear about our meeting."

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady.

After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half-way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.

"It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said.

"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation. Nothing extraordinary, but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie.

As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you."

I agreed.

"How was your dinner date"? asked my wife when I got home.

"Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her.

Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined.

An attached note said, "I paid this bill in advance."

I wasn't sure that I could be there, but nevertheless, I paid for two plates: one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son."

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time, "I love you" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off until "some other time."

Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you've had a baby. Somebody doesn't know that once you're a mother, "normal" is history.

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

Somebody said being a mother is boring. Somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.

Somebody said if you're a "good" mother, your child will "turn out good." Somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee.

Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices. Somebody never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window.

Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother. Somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math.

Somebody said you can't love the second child as much as you love the first. Somebody doesn't have two children.

Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child rearing questions in the books. Somebody never had a child stuff beans up his nose or in his ears.

Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and delivery. Somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of Kindergarten or on a plane headed for military "boot camp."

Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back. Somebody never organized seven giggling Brownies to sell cookies.

Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets married. Somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings.

Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home. Somebody never had grandchildren.

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

--Unknown

Mike 

There was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.

"Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today?" So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. "HUMMMM," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the
middle today?" So she did and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. "Well," she said, "today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. "YEA!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"

Attitude is everything!

Mike 

This is one of the nicest stories I've ever heard. You will know precisely what this little girl is talking about at the end (you'll want to share this one with your loved ones and special friends)!

"Danielle keeps repeating it over and over again. We've been back to this animal shelter at least five times. It has been weeks now since we started all of this," the mother told the volunteer.

"What is it she keeps asking for?" the volunteer asked.

"Puppy size!" replied the mother.

"Well, we have plenty of puppies, if that's what she's looking for."

"I know...we have seen most of them," the mom said in frustration...

Just then Danielle came walking into the office.

"Well, did you find one?" asked her mom. "No, not this time," Danielle said with sadness in her voice. "Can we come back on the weekend?"

The two women looked at each other, shook their heads and laughed.

"You never know when we will get more dogs. Unfortunately, there's always a supply," the volunteer said.

Danielle took her mother by the hand and headed to the door. "Don't worry, I'll find one this weekend," she said.

Over the next few days both mom and dad had long conversations with her.

They both felt she was being too particular. "It's this weekend or we're not looking any more," Dad finally said in frustration.

"We don't want to hear anything more about puppy size either," Mom added.

Sure enough, they were the first ones in the shelter on Saturday morning. By now Danielle knew her way around, so she ran right for the section that housed the smaller dogs.

Tired of the routine, mom sat in the small waiting room at the end of the first row of cages. There was an observation window so you could see the animals during times when visitors weren't permitted.

Danielle walked slowly from cage to cage, kneeling periodically to take a closer look. One by one the dogs were brought out and she held each one.

One by one she said, "Sorry, you're not the one."

It was the last cage on this last day in search of the perfect pup.

The volunteer opened the cage door and the child carefully picked up the dog and held it closely. This time she took a little longer.

"Mom, that's it! I found the right puppy! He's the one! I know it!" she screamed with joy. "It's the puppy size!"

"But it's the same size as all the other puppies you held over the last few weeks," Mom said.

"No not size ---- the sighs, when I held him in my arms, he sighed," she said.

"Don't you remember? When I asked you one day what love is, you told me love depends on the sighs of your heart. The more you love, the bigger the sigh!"

The two women looked at each other for a moment. Mom didn't know whether to laugh or cry. As she stooped down to hug the child, she did a little of both.

"Mom, every time you hold me, I sigh. When you and Daddy come home from work and hug each other, you both sigh. I knew I would find the right puppy if it sighed when I held it in my arms," she said.

Then holding the puppy up close to her face she said, "Mom, he loves me. I heard the sighs of his heart!"

Close your eyes for a moment and think about the love that makes you sigh. I not only find it in the arms of my loved ones, but in the caress of a sunset, the kiss of the moonlight and the gentle brush of cool air on a hot day.

They are the sighs of God. Take the time to stop and listen; you will be surprised at what you hear. "Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."

Author Unknown

Mike 

Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn.

His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had
penetrated the darkness of his brain.

Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.

One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning
problems. Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students."

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke.
"Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."

Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction.

Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with
Jeremy. From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris' face turned red.

She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please, take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a
large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically--all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face.
He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the
project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a
vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the
eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here." A small girl in the first row waved her arm.

"That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out. The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly.
Yes, that's new life, too."

Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine."

Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty.
Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents.

Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up.

"Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?"

Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty." He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."

Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?"

"Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away.

Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty.

Mike 

What a scared little seven-year-old boy I was when the orphanage finally let me out of that dark closet, after two days.

I took my bath, brushed my teeth with soap and dressed myself for school in the clothes that the matron had laid on my bed. Clothes that were always too big, or too small for me.

When I reached Spring Park Elementary, I just kept walking past the school building, because I was so afraid the other kids in my classroom would make fun of me because of all the black and blue marks on my legs where I had been whipped with the polo paddle.

I walked and walked for what seemed to be hours. Finally, I came to this great big wide street which was at the end of Spring Park Road. I had never seen a street that big before and I had never seen so many cars in all my life. Across the street was a big brick store and the sign on top said Preston's Drugs.

There was also a sign in the window that read "Everything you'll ever want is here."

It took me almost an hour to get across Atlantic Boulevard, because I was so scared. But finally, I ran across the road as fast as I could and none of the cars hit me. Then I walked into the large Preston Drug Store and noticed people sitting at a counter drinking drinks with ice cream in them. I had never seen anything like that before. I don't think I ever had ice cream before, but that is not what I was looking for anyway.

The sign said they had everything that you would ever need in the whole wide world. I had heard about something very special and I wanted to buy one if they had it. I looked, and I looked, and I looked, but I just could not find the thing that I had heard about on the television movie. Finally, this old man grabbed me by the arm, and it scared me real bad too.

"What are you doing in here, boy"? he yelled at me.

"I'm looking for something special," I told him, as I backed against the wall.

"Are you stealing stuff"? he said as he pointed directly at my nose.

"No Sir, Mister," I said. "I'm not a stealer."

I was taken into the back office and a policeman came and asked me why I was not in school. I didn't tell him anything, because I was afraid that he would take me to jail for running away from the orphanage. So, I just started crying really loud. After the policeman left the room, this old lady, about twenty-five years old, came in and sat by me.

"Were you stealing"? she asked me.

"No ma'am. I was just looking for something special," I told her.

"And what might that be"? she asked.

"Do you have a hug in this here store"? I asked.

"We always have hugs for kids in this store," she said as she stood up, wrapped her arms around me and squeezed real tight. She smiled, walked out of the small office and when no one came back for a long time, I looked out the office door and saw that the back door of the store was open. I quickly walked out of the back door and I ran all the way back to school.

When I got back, I found out that I was only 20 minutes late. I was the only kid in my class that day that did not have the five cent milk money for lunch. But that was okay, because I had laid my nickel on the man's desk at the Preston Drug Store to pay for the hug that the lady gave me.

It really was the store "that had everything in the world that you would ever need," and nobody can ever say that I stole it either.

--Roger Dean Kiser

Mike 

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island.

He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions.

One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief, grief, and anger. He cried out, "God! How could you do this to me?"

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

The Moral of This Story:

It's easy to get discouraged when things are going bad, but we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives...even in the midst of our pain and suffering. Remember that the next time your little hut seems to be burning to the ground. It just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.

Keep your faith, and have a great week end!!
 

Mike 

I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd."

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him.

He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him, so I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye.

As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives."

He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!"

There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived.

As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now.

I would have never hung out with a private school kid before, but we talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books.

He turned out to be a pretty cool kid.

I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends and he said, "Yes!"

We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again.

I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!"

He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends.

When we were seniors, we began to think about college.

Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke.

I knew that we would always be friends and the miles would never be a problem.

He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class and I always teased him about being a nerd.

He also had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.

On graduation day, I saw Kyle.

He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him.

Boy, sometimes I was jealous and today was one of those days.

I could see that he was nervous about his speech, so I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"

He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began.

"Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach, but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story."

I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met.

He had planned to kill himself over the weekend.

He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.

He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile.

"Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable."

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.

I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile.

Not until that moment did I realize its depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions.

With one small gesture, you can change a person's life.

For better or for worse.

--Unknown

Mike 

Faith, Love, Perseverance:

My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons. It's something I've done for over 30 years. Over the years, I found that children have many levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, though I have taught some talented students.

However, I've also had my share of what I call "musically challenged" pupils. One such student was Robby. Robby was 11-years-old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby.

But, Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano. So, I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning, I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But, he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.

Over the months, he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson, he'd always say, "My mom's going to hear me play someday." But, it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never stopped in.

Then one day, Robby stopped coming to our lessons.

I thought about calling him, but assumed because of his lack of ability, he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later, I mailed to the students' homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise, Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify. He said that his mother had been sick and was unable to take him to piano lessons, but he was still practicing. "Miss Hondorf, I've just got to play!" he insisted.

I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be alright. The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my "curtain closer."

Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then, Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an eggbeater through it. "Why didn't he dress up like the other students"? I thought. "Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night"?

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys. They even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo. From allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his age. After six and a half minutes, he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause.

Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard you play like that Robby! How'd you do it"?

Through the microphone, Robby explained, "Well, Miss Hondorf. Remember I told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning and well, she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I've never had a prodigy, but that night, I became a prodigy of Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for it is he who taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself. And maybe, even taking a chance on someone and you don't know why.

Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, but I will never forget him.

--Mildred Hondorf

Mike 

Acceptance:

His name is Bill. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant. Kind of esoteric and very, very bright. He became a Christian while attending college.

Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure how to go about it. One day, Bill decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat.

The church is completely packed and he can't find a seat. By now, people are looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything. Bill gets closer, closer, and closer to the pulpit and when he realizes there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church!) By now, the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick.

About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill. Now, the deacon is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, a three-piece suit, and a pocket watch. The deacon is a godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a cane and as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves, you can't blame him for what he's going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor?

It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy. The church is very silent, except for the clicking of the man's cane. All eyes are focused on him. You can't even hear anyone breathing. The people are thinking, the minister can't even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he has to do. Then they watch, as this elderly deacon drops his cane on the floor. With great difficulty, he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill to worship with him so he won't be alone. Everyone chokes up with emotion.

The minister gains control and says, "What I'm about to preach, you won't remember. What you just saw, you will never forget."

--Unknown

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor.  Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.  Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: 

"If you notice, all the nice-looking, expensive cups have been taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.  While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.  Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee in most cases; it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.

What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups...and then began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: 

Life is the coffee,  and the jobs, money and position in society are the cups.  They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define nor change the quality of Life we live. 

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee that has been provided to us."

Mike

I ask you as business professionals; what we can learn from this little boy facing his fears?

Take the Plunge

 "Watch me dive off the high board, Dad," my ten-year-old son called out. I looked up to the ten-foot-high diving board and waited as he stood at the edge, stooped over, arms extended. He had jumped off the high board many times before, but now his nerve seemed to falter as he contemplated streaking through the air headfirst.

The swimming pool was vacated, so he could take his time. "You can do it, Robby," I encouraged. But he couldn't. Not that evening. For 20 minutes, he attempted to muster the courage to make the plunge, and he finally gave up when the pool closed for the night.

"I feel disappointed in myself," Robby said on the way home. "I feel terrible. I know I can do it, though. I know I can."

He persuaded me to take him swimming again the next evening. Like the night before, we happened to be the only swimmers. "I'm going to do it this time," he said emphatically. "Watch me!"

He climbed the ladder and walked to the end of the board as I watched. Again, I encouraged him. Again, he hesitated. As the previous night, his nerve failed. It seemed that he would never conquer his fear and leap.

The lifeguards on duty helped me cheer him on. "You can do it, Robby," we all exhorted. "Just do it! Don't think about it. Just do it!"

For 30 minutes, we encouraged him. For 30 minutes, he started and stopped, he leaned and straightened and fought the fear that held him back.

And then it happened. He extended his arms, bent over the edge and fell headfirst into the water! He emerged to the sounds of laughter and congratulations. He did it! He finally did it! And before he went home, he did it three more times.

Robby learned something about facing his fear that evening, but he learned something else, too. He learned that some things can't be done with less than full commitment. A chasm cannot be leaped in two small jumps and a dive cannot be made a little at a time. Sometimes you just have to do it!

By Steve Goodier

Mike 

Mike 

Breakfast at McDonald's

Here is another one. . Food for thought. 

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12 and 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring, with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with.

Her last project of the term was called, "Smile." The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions.

I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway, so I thought this would be a piece of cake, literally.

Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did.

I did not move an inch. An overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved.

As I turned around, I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was "smiling." His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance.

He said, "Good day," as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.

The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation.

I held my tears as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.

He said, "Coffee is all, Miss," because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm).

Then I really felt it. The compulsion was so great, I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action.

I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray.

I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman's cold hand.

He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you."

I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope."

I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down, my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me, Honey. To give me hope."

We held hands for a moment and at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace we had been given were we able to give. We are not church goers, but we are believers.

That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love.

I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand.

I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it.

Then she looked up at me and said, "Can I share this"?

I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class.

She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings and being part of God share this need to heal people and to be healed.

In my own way, I had touched the people at McDonald's, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.

I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn: Unconditional acceptance.

--Unknown

Mike Fesler 

I’ll go first.

"There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle." - Albert Einstein -

Playing by the rules:

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart.

The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom
of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung
clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.
Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!"

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on
their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.
Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!"

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, "Shay, run home! Run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

"That day", said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world".

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

Mike Fesler

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