Seize the moment
A Nail on the Fence
The Power Of Friendship
Playing by Heart
Breakfast At McDonald's
A Stop in The Night
I’ll Be There
Live by a three-word philosophy: "Seize
the moment."
Too
many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't
thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming
or are too rigid to depart from their routine. I got to thinking one
day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner
that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried
to be a little more flexible. How many women out there will eat at
home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after
something had been thawed? Does the word "refrigeration" mean nothing
to you?
How often have your kids dropped in to talk and
sat in silence while you watched Jeopardy! on television? I cannot
count the times I called my sister and said, "How about going to lunch in
a half hour?" She would gasp and stammer, "I can't. I have clothes
on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday,
I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain. And my personal favorite: "It's
Monday".
She died a few years ago. We never did have
lunch together.
Because Americans cram so much into their lives,
we tend to schedule our
headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves
when all the conditions are perfect: We'll go back and visit the grandparents
when we get Stevie toilet-trained. We'll entertain-when we replace the living-room
carpet.
We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.
Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter,
and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we
awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of "I'm going
to," "I plan on" and "Someday, when things are settled down a bit."
When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend,
she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open
mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You
talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for
a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.
My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream.
It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my hips with a spatula
and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the
car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the
way home, I would have died happy.
Now...go on and have
a nice day. Do something you WANT to ......not
something on your SHOULD DO list.
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A Nail on the Fence
There
once was a little girl who had a bad temper. Her mother gave her a
bag of nails and told her that every time she lost her temper, she must hammer
a nail into the back of the fence. The first day the girl had driven
37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as she learned to control
her anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down.
She discovered it was easier to hold her temper than to drive those nails
into the fence.
Finally the day came when the girl didn't lose
her temper at all. She told her mother about it and the mother suggested
that the girl, “Now pull out one nail for each day that she was able to
hold her temper.” The days passed and the young girl was finally able
to tell her mother that all the nails were gone. The mother took her daughter
by the hand and led her to the fence. She said, "You have done well,
my daughter, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be
the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this
one."
You can put a knife in a person and draw it out.
It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there.
A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one. Friends are very rare
jewels, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend
an ear, they share words of praise and they always want to open their hearts
to us. Treat them kindly, and don’t leave them full of holes.
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The Power Of Friendship
One
day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was
walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying
all of his books. 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. We talked 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.
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, that 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. I teased him
all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation.
I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak. 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. 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. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some
way. Look for God in others.
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Playing by Heart
At the prodding of my
friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am
a former elementary school music teacher from DeMoines, Iowa. I've always
supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons-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 protégé 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 some day." 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, that 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 student's 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 mom had been sick and 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 had run
an egg-beater 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 protégée but that night I became a protégé...of
Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that
taught me the meaning of perseverance and love
and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone
and you
don't know why. This is especially meaningful to me since
after serving in Desert Storm Robby was killed in the senseless bombing
of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995,
where he was reportedly....playing the piano.
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Breakfast At McDonald's
I
am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 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 play time 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 that 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.
Much love and compassion is sent to each and
every person who may read this and learn how to LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS
- NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.
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A Stop in The Night
Two
traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family.
The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's
guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the
cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older
angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel
asked why, the older angel replied, "Things aren't always what they seem."
The next night the pair came to rest at the house
of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what
little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where
they could have a good night's rest. When the sun came up the next
morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow,
whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field. The younger
angel was infuriated and asked the older angel how could you have let this
happen? The first man had everything, yet you helped him, she accused.
The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you
let their cow die. "Things aren't always what they seem," the
older angel replied.
"When we stayed in the basement of the mansion,
I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since
the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune,
I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it." "Then last night
as we slept in the farmers’ bed, the angel of death came for his wife.
I gave him the cow instead. Things aren't always what they seem."
Sometimes that is exactly what happens when things
don't turn out the way they should. If you have faith, you just need
to trust that every outcome is always to your advantage. However,
you might not know it until some time later...
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I’ll Be There
Have
you ever loved someone and they had absolutely no idea whatsoever?
Or fell for you're best friend in the entire world, and then sat around and
watched him/her fall for someone else? Have you ever denied your feelings
for someone because your fear of rejection was too hard to handle? We tell
lies when we are afraid.... afraid of what we don't know, afraid of what
others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time
we tell a lie...the thing we fear grows stronger.
Have you ever noticed that the worst way to miss
someone is when they are right beside you and yet you can never have them...when
the moment you can't feel them under your fingertips you miss them?
Have you ever wondered which hurts the most; saying something and wishing
you had not, or saying nothing and wishing you had? I guess the most
important things are the hardest things to say. Don't be afraid to
tell someone you love them. If you do, they might break your heart ... but
if you don't, you might break theirs.
Have you ever decided not to become a couple because
you were so afraid of losing what you already had with that person? Your
heart decides who it likes and who it doesn't. You can't tell your heart
what to do. It does it on its own... when you least suspect it, or even when
you don't want it to.
Have you ever wanted to love someone with everything
you had, but that other person was too afraid to let you? Too many of us
stay walled because we are too afraid to care too much...for fear that the
other person does not care as much, or that all Life is all about risks and
it requires you to jump. Don't be a person who has to look back and
wonder what they would have, or could have had.
No one waits forever...
When the tears just won't stop falling down*
I'll be there*
So you see I'll be there until the end*
This is a promise I can make*
If you ever need me*
Just give me a call and.*
I'll be there...*
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