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Showing posts with label Inspirational Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inspirational Stories. Show all posts
Sunday, June 22, 2014
By Lisa Fenn from Espn.com
I went to meet these two young athletes for a TV story I was doing. I stayed because I could not walk away.
“Why did you stay?” he asked as we waited for the light to turn green. I always thought he knew. “I love you,” I answered. “That’s what I thought you’d say,” he replied. “But … why … why did you stick around and do everything you did?” The answer to Dartanyon Crockett’s second question was not as tidy as the first. Because life can be a knotted mess and, sometimes, love is not enough.
Dartanyon and Leroy Sutton found their way into my heart four years ago. As an ESPN television producer, I chronicled human-interest stories in sports. I covered everything from legends like Derek Jeter and Michael Jordan to disabled amateurs and terminally ill Little Leaguers. But what I found on the wrestling mats at Cleveland’s Lincoln-West High School in 2009 caused my spirit to sink and soar, all in the same moment.
Dartanyon was Lincoln’s most talented athlete. A winner in multiple weight classes, he was five-foot-seven, with muscles bunched like buckeyes. He was also homeless. His mama had died of an aneurysm when he was eight, then relatives took him to live in a crack house. Where it was Dartanyon could not say, because he is legally blind. Born with Leber optic atrophy disease, he can barely make out the facial features of a person a few feet away.
Perched atop Dartanyon’s back—yes, riding on his back—was teammate Leroy Sutton. Dartanyon carried his friend to and from the wrestling mats at meets because Leroy had no legs. When he was 11, he was hit by a train. His left leg was amputated below the knee, his right leg below the hip. His mother, ravaged by guilt, slipped into drug use and disappeared for stretches, leaving Leroy to care for his sister. His father spent nearly all of Leroy’s youth in jail. The boy learned to mask his torment with a quick smile.
The one with no legs being carried by the one who could not see. At first, I stayed because I simply could not look away.
Dartanyon and Leroy shared a handful of classes, always sitting side by side. Dartanyon would get up to sharpen Leroy’s pencils; Leroy would read the small print for Dartanyon. Yet each time I reveled in their tenderness, they reverted to teenage humor with a twist only they could share. “Did you guys do the homework?” the teacher asked. “Dartanyon tried,” Leroy said, “but he couldn’t see it.” “Leroy ran over,” Dartanyon said, “and read it to me.”
They barreled down the hallways together. Dartanyon kept a hand on Leroy’s wheelchair, in part as a guide for himself but also to act as a protector, a brother. Their teachers told me that they were “some of the good ones.”
Their cheerfulness stood out at Lincoln. Teens poured through metal detectors each morning, many stopped for pat-downs. Less than 50 percent would ever graduate. Yet Dartanyon and Leroy moved through the chaos with grace, with a refusal to have their hope tainted. Dartanyon scribbled on pages in his notebooks “Destined for Greatness.”
In order for their friendship’s nuances to unfold on camera, I needed to be a part of it. This was difficult at first because I grew up on the other side of Cleveland. My parents had scrounged up money for private school to protect me from “those people,” and I’d always silently wondered what was so bad about them. Now I realized their discomfort was akin to the uneasiness I wore in Lincoln’s halls.
But Dartanyon and Leroy eased me in. They taught me their lingo and poked fun when I used it. They opened up about their struggles—Dartanyon with eagerness, as I suspect he had waited all his life for someone to want to know him. Leroy’s revelations emerged more reluctantly. He had been abandoned too many times. But sharing his past became a type of therapy for him.
I stayed because I would not be next on the list of people who walked out on them. After wrestling season, Dartanyon and Leroy competed in power lifting, a sport in which they both excelled. Leroy held the state record in bench press, Dartanyon in dead lift. Immediately following a conference championship win in April 2009, Dartanyon discovered that all his belongings had been stolen.
That week, I drove him around to replace his items. A new bus pass. A cell phone. A trip to the Social Security office for a state ID, which required a birth certificate, which had been confiscated during his dad’s eviction. His was a cruel world, and how he endured it baffled me. I paid for his items, crossing a journalistic line. But this was becoming less about a story and all about soothing the suffering. Dartanyon later told me that that was when he grew convinced God had placed me in his life for reasons beyond television.
I traveled to Akron to film Leroy’s old neighborhood. This required a police escort. “Welcome to Laird Street,” a police officer said. “We call it Laird Country because once they’re born into Laird, they never leave. They just move from house to house, up and down, following those drugs.”
I stayed because my heart was too heavy for my legs to walk away.
That summer, I edited their story, “Carry On,” praying that one viewer would be moved to help. After the airings, hundreds of e-mails flooded my inbox, offering money and sharing how this friendship shook their souls awake. Dartanyon and Leroy were no longer invisible. I curled up and wept.
I responded to nearly 1,000 e-mails. Each time I shared exciting developments, Dartanyon gushed with thank-yous and hugs. But Leroy’s stoic posture never budged. “Leroy, if at any point you don’t want this, you need to speak up,” I said. “The last thing I want is to inflict my desires on you.”
“No, it’s all good,” he said.
“But usually when it’s all good, people smile or say something,” I said. “Each time I call with good news, you are so quiet. I’m not even sure you’re on the line.”
“No one’s ever called me with good news before,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
I stayed because I vowed then to fill Leroy’s life with a thousand good things until he burst with joy. In November 2009, thanks to viewers’ generosity, he moved to Arizona to study video game design at Collins College. I had doubts that he could manage on his own, but time and again, he disarms his skeptics. He was the first in his family to graduate from high school, and in August, he was the first to receive a college diploma, as Dartanyon and I applauded.
Dartanyon received his life-changing offer from the U.S. Olympic Committee in March 2010. Coaches invited him to train in Colorado to learn the Paralympic sport of judo. This was like winning the lottery: shelter, sports, mentors, school, medical care, and, as he proudly showed me, his first bed.
“Top judo athletes begin training at a very young age,” his coach confided. “We don’t know that he can make up the years by 2016.” But he worked his fingers into calluses and swiped a spot on the 2012 team. At the Paralympics in London, Leroy and I celebrated as a bronze medal was draped around Dartanyon’s neck. Once forgotten by the world, he stood on top of it.
“Things like this don’t happen to kids like us,” he cried that night, his tears soaking my shoulder. He’s right. Blind and legless kids from the ghetto don’t get college degrees and medals, but they should. And that is why I stayed. Because hope, love, and redemption can happen to kids like them. And people like me, people from the “other side,” who can soften life’s blows for them, ought to help.
Those who know the story heap a lot of credit onto me for dedicating four years to improving Dartanyon’s and Leroy’s lives. I’ve removed obstacles from their paths, exposing new horizons and piling on encouragement. I taught Leroy how to pay a bill. I sat with Dartanyon at the Social Security office to apply for disability, something he could have received all his life had anyone submitted the forms. I soothed the burn of Leroy’s broken heart and phantom limbs. Through it all, we grew into an eclectic family. We carried on.
When he visited the eye doctor, I asked Dartanyon to include me on the consent form so I could access his records. Later, the administrator called. “I just thought you should know what Dartanyon wrote on his form,” she said, somewhat undone. “Next to your name is a space that says ‘relationship to patient.’ He wrote ‘guardian angel.’ ”
I stayed because we get only one life, and we don’t truly live it until we give it away. I stayed because we can change the world only when we enter into another’s world. I stayed because I love you.
Friday, May 16, 2014
By Lauren Tuck
A group of 25 autistic students and 21 school staffers got a generous surprise during a recent lunch outing when they discovered that their bill had been paid for by an anonymous stranger.
According to MyCentralJersey.com, five classes from Matthew Jago Elementary School in Sewaren, New Jersey, were on a May 6 field trip to Tex-Mex restaurant Jose Tejas in the nearby town of Iselin to belatedly celebrate Cinco de Mayo. At the end of the meal, instead of presenting the group of special education teachers, speech therapists, and teaching assistants with the $485 check, the manager informed them it had been taken care of.
The Good Samaritan, who is reportedly a frequent patron of the restaurant, chose to remain nameless, but she did relay to a restaurant employee that she has a grandchild with special needs and wanted to show her appreciation for the hard-working professionals. “We all were just taken aback,” one of the teachers, Jeannette Gruskowski, told MyCentralJersey.com. “Nobody’s ever done such a generous, anonymous thing like that.”
The woman who paid the tab had left by the time the students and teachers had finished their meal, but because the grateful group didn’t get to say thank you in person, they’re trying to make sure their donor eventually gets the message.
The autistic children — some of whom are verbal and some of whom use pictures, sign language, or tablets to communicate — have written a thank-you letter to the kindhearted grandma. They’re planning on getting Jose Tejas's management to hang it in the restaurant so whether she hears about it through word of mouth or on the news or sees it in person, the benefactor will know how appreciative the teachers and kids truly are.
Outings are especially beneficial for these students, Gruskowski explained, because they help the children apply the skills they’ve learned in the classroom in a more social setting. Because this excursion, which the students brought their own money to pay for, didn’t cost them anything, they’ll have an opportunity to take another one.
“Every day, it’s always trying to figure out what we can do to teach them according to their way of learning. It’s so rewarding when you see them getting a skill you’ve been teaching them — it’s worth it,” Gruskowski said. “It’s worth all the struggles and challenges.”
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Vic Wild became the first snowboarder to win two medals at the same Winter Games.
(Getty Images)
(Getty Images)
And here he was, the toast of
Rosa Khutor Extreme Park, making the pretty girls holding the winners'
bouquets giggle and the fans chant "Roo-see-uh! Roo-see-uh!" and his
competitors hail him for his courage. Vic Wild is no traitor, even if
his two gold medals might help swing the final medal table in Russia's
favor over the United States.
Actually, the most
stereotypically American story of the Olympics might be about an alpine
snowboard racer who left for a place that wanted him, made himself a new
life and turned into a smashing success.
"Why Vic's a hero," fellow racer Michael Lambert said, "is he's someone that didn't let anything stand in the way."
Wild won the snowboarding
parallel slalom race Saturday afternoon, parlaying an incredible
come-from-behind win in the semifinals to a gold-medal-winning victory
over Zan Kosir by a little more than one-tenth of a second. He became
the first snowboarder in Olympic history to win two medals in the same
games, his first coming three days earlier in the parallel giant slalom.
Less than 24 hours before the Sochi Games' closing ceremony, Russia led the overall medal table with 29. The United States ranked second with 27. Were he still competing for the U.S., Wild would be the most decorated American Olympian at the Sochi Games – and the athlete who pushed them into the lead.
Instead, the United States Ski
and Snowboard Association dissolved its already-underfunded alpine
snowboarding program after the Vancouver Games, leaving Wild with a
choice: end his career or defect. When he married Russian snowboarder
Alena Zavarzina in 2011, Wild applied for citizenship in her country and
its greatest perquisite: the support of an Olympic organizing committee
that valued alpine snowboarding.
"I would not have snowboarded for
the United States," Wild said. "I was done snowboarding. I would have
moved on. I would have gone to college. And I would have had a great
life. I had another option. The only option to snowboard was to
go to Russia and snowboard. I wanted to continue snowboarding, to see
how good I can be. I wanted to know I gave it everything I had. …
"I was done. I had called them. I
had retired. It has nothing to do with the United States itself. It
only has something to do with the nonprofit organization, the USSA. They
didn't give me what I needed. That's cool. I'm stoked for them. They've
done a great job at these Olympics. They're amazing. They do a great
job. But not everybody can be happy. I had to make my decision. And I'm
very happy that I did that."
While Wild puts a happy face on
the USSA's budgetary choices now, his frustration used to define him
among officials who saw him as an enfant terrible, someone who didn't
understand alpine's place in the snowboarding power structure. Halfpipe
is king, with slopestyle creeping up in importance, and snowboardcross
racing third. Thedo Remmelink, Wild's former coach, said the USSA's
alpine snowboarding budget was $135,000, well below the level expected
of an elite program. The organization spent more than $24.1 million in
2012, according to its latest annual budget report.
Were the USSA to have dedicated,
say, $500,000 – about 2 percent of what it devotes to all of its teams –
it would have all the standards of a top program: board technicians,
equipment testing, physiotherapists, technical coaches, video workers
and a well-stocked, deep team. Lambert said funding a high-level team –
not just the equipment but lodging, food and event travel – costs
between $80,000 and $90,000 per rider annually. Rather than spend that 2 percent, two golds went to Russia.
"I'm very lucky this all happened," Wild said. "I don't know if I deserve all this luck. This is just too good to be true."
Of course he deserves it. Wild
made his luck. For years, he scraped by with no money. He emptied his
bank accounts, borrowed from his mom, did anything he could to make a
career in a sport he loved. At one point, Remmelink said, he wasn't even
allowed to train with other elite snowboarders because he hadn't
reached a qualification threshold, which presented something of a
chicken-and-egg situation: How could he possibly get better if
restricted from accessing the tools to help him improve?
Russia gave him that, a home in
Moscow and a renewed vigor. During the first semifinal race against
Benjamin Karl, Wild slipped and fell behind 1.12 seconds, an eternity in
the short, speedy parallel slalom race.
"You don't come back from 1.12 in a 30-second slalom race," said Wild's brother, Michael.
Only Wild did. He blitzed the
course, caught Karl and pulled across the line four-hundredths of a
second ahead of him. Never, Wild said, had he beaten Karl. He chose a
rather opportune time, one that guaranteed him another medal.
"He was riding with the
self-confidence of an Olympic champion," Karl said. "If you already have
the gold medal in your jacket, then you can ride like hell."
All week Wild has ridden like
hell, freed, finally, from the constraints of a country that didn't want
him. There was nothing political about his choice to become Russian, no
statement or message he wanted to send. It was strictly personal. Wild
grew up in a country that encourages children to chase their dreams. So
he chased his. This wasn't like Victor An, the South Korean speed
skating mercenary who joined the Russian team because it paid best and
won three gold medals in the Sochi Games. It was purer, sport for
sport's sake, achievement his remedy.
"I thought I could do something
special," Wild said. "I never reached my potential, and I wanted to see
how good I could get. That's why I continued snowboarding, and that's
why I'm a Russian."
He's Russian because he wanted
this day, this moment, this particularly American-style opportunity that
America chose not to let him have. It was his dream come to life.
by Yahoo!Sport
Saturday, January 25, 2014
......... to support his friend battling cancer.
When 6-year-old Zac Gossage lost his hair while undergoing chemotherapy for acute lymphoblastic leukemia, he cried to his mom that he didn't want to go to school.
When his teacher at Central
Elementary School in Union, Missouri, told the class about Zac's
illness, his best friend, 7-year-old Vincent Butterfield, went home and
told his dad he wanted to shave his head. In support, Vincent's father
also shaved his head. When asked in an interview why he wanted to
support his friend in that way, Vincent simply stated, "I didn't want
him to feel like the only one without hair."
As if that wasn't enough, Vincent
took things a step further and started selling scarves on Facebook to
raise money for the Gossage family when he learned how expensive Zac's
treatments were. "We had been making these scarves, and he just kind of
said it would be cool if we could make a whole bunch of these and sell
them," Vincent's mom, Karen Butterfield, said. He initially wanted to sell 10 scarves at $10 a piece, but instead, doubled his goal in only five hours and raised $200.
Today, Zac is reportedly doing
well, although he will still be undergoing treatments. He continues to
attend school on most days, except when he has to get a spinal tap.
How does Zac feel about his
friend's gesture? "It made me feel awesome, because I wouldn't be the
only one with no hair," he said.
When asked, "What is friendship?"
by a reporter, Vincent responded, "A beautiful thing." Who are we to
argue with such a wise first-grader?
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Standing tall through it all
This 6-foot beauty captured not only the attention of the judges but also the world when she was recently crowned Miss Israel. Soon after, another dream was fulfilled when 21-year-old Yityish “Titi” Aynaw was invited to dine with President Barack Obama. It was in celebration of his most recent trip to Israel.
Titi, the first Ethiopian immigrant to win the Miss Israel title, says she’s come a long way in less than 10 years. Born in a tiny African village where things like staircases didn’t even exist, Titi suffered the tragic loss of both her parents by age 12. She then came to Israel and created a new life.
Today, an estimated 121,000 citizens of Ethiopian descent are living in Israel.
“This was an incredible moment,” Titi says. “Obama is a figure that I want to emulate. I did a project on him in school and I knew what he had been through and what he had done. He was like a mentor for me, so to meet him and say hello, it was like closing a circle.”
Yityish “Titi” Aynaw
Cangumbang, located around 11 miles (17.7km) south of the devastated city of Tacloban, was hit directly by record wind speeds of up to 200mph, but miraculously, every one of its 300 residents survived, due to work that was started by a charity before the storm hit. China Correspondent Angus Walker reports.
Tropical storms and typhoons in previous years struck Cangumbang hard, with many homes being damaged or lost.
Ms Thomasma, now dubbed "the woman who saved a village", raised over $40,000 to ensure the project was completed by the end of August.
Although the roof was ripped off during the typhoon, everyone sheltering beneath survived as their homes were swept away in the storm.
"I'm just so thankful that we built the centre in the way we did and that it was ready in time. The children are like my children so, to be able to still have them here and be able to see them whenever I want ... it's just a great feeling to know they are OK."
article link: http://www.itv.com/news/2013-11-19/philippines-village-celebrates-miracle-storm-shelter/
Sunday, December 29, 2013
When a taxi driver asked one simple question, he transformed his family's future.
By Irving Stern
For
28 years, three months, and 12 days, I drove a New York City taxi. Now,
if you were to ask me what I had for breakfast yesterday, I probably
couldn’t tell you. But the memory of one fare is so vivid, I’ll remember
it all my days in this world.It was a sunny Monday morning in the spring of 1966. I was cruising down York Avenue looking for a customer, but with the beautiful weather, it was kind of slow. I had stopped at a light just opposite New York Hospital when I spied a well-dressed man dashing down the hospital steps. He was hailing me.
Just then, the light turned green, the driver behind me honked impatiently, and I heard a cop’s whistle. But I wasn’t about to lose this ride. Finally, the man reached the cab and jumped in. “LaGuardia Airport, please,” he said. “And thanks for waiting.”
Good news, I thought. On Monday morning, LaGuardia is hopping, and with a little luck, I could get back-to-back fares. That would make my day.
As always, I wondered about my passenger. Was this guy a talker, a mummy, a newspaper reader? After a few moments, he started a conversation. It began ordinarily enough: “How do you like driving a cab?”
It was a stock question, and I gave him my stock answer. “It’s OK,” I said. “I make a living and meet interesting people sometimes. But if I could get a job making $100 a week more, I’d take it—just like you would.”
His reply intrigued me. “I would not change jobs if it meant I had to take a cut of a hundred a week.”
I’d never heard anyone say such a thing. “What do you do?”
“I’m in the neurology department at New York Hospital.”
I’ve always been curious about people, and I’ve tried to learn what I could from them. Many times during long rides, I’d developed a rapport with my passengers—and quite often I’d received very good advice from accountants, lawyers, and plumbers. Maybe it was that this fellow clearly loved his work; maybe it was just the pleasant mood of a spring morning. But I decided to ask for his help. We were not far from the airport now, so I plunged ahead.
“Could I ask a big favor of you?” He didn’t answer. “I have a son, 15, a good kid. He’s doing well in school. We’d like him to go to camp this summer, but he wants a job. But a 15-year-old can’t get hired unless his old man knows someone who owns a business, and I don’t.” I paused. “Is there any possibility that you might get him some kind of a summer job—even if he doesn’t get paid?”
He still wasn’t talking, and I was starting to feel foolish for bringing up the subject. Finally, at the ramp to the terminal, he said, “Well, the medical students have a summer research project. Maybe he could fit in. Have him send me his school record.”
He fished around in his pocket for a card but couldn’t find one. “Do you have any paper?” he asked.
I tore off a piece of my brown lunch bag, and he scribbled something and paid me. It was the last time I ever saw him.
My wife: “Is he a doctor?”
My daughter: “Is he an apple?”
My son: “Is this a joke?”
After I nagged, cajoled, yelled, and finally threatened to cut off his allowance, Robbie sent off his grades the next morning. The fruit jokes continued for a few days, but gradually the incident was forgotten.
Robbie got the job. After working for two weeks as a volunteer, he was paid $40 a week for the rest of the summer. The white lab coat he wore made him feel a lot more important than he really was as he followed Dr. Plum around the hospital, doing minor tasks for him.
The following summer, Robbie worked at the hospital again, but this time, he was given more responsibility. As high school graduation neared, Dr. Plum was kind enough to write letters of recommendation for college. Much to our delight, Robbie was accepted at Brown University.
He worked at the hospital for a third summer and gradually developed a love of the medical profession. As college graduation approached, Robbie applied to medical school, and Dr. Plum again wrote letters attesting to his ability and character.
Robbie was admitted to New York Medical College and, after getting his medical degree, did a four-year residency specializing in obstetrics and gynecology.
Dr. Robert Stern, the son of a taxicab driver, became OB-GYN chief resident at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center.
Some might call it fate, and I guess it was. But it shows you that big opportunities can come out of ordinary encounters—even something as ordinary as a taxi ride.
Irving Stern, 92, still lives in Brooklyn. Robbie—now Dr. Robert Stern—and Dr. Plum exchanged Christmas cards every year until Plum’s death in 2010. Dr. Stern is currently an OB-GYN specialist at Health-Quest Medical Practice in Fishkill, New York. His son is a cardiologist; his daughters are an endodontist and an attorney. “This may all be due to Dr. Fred Plum, whom I will never forget,” he says.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all repaired their boats and left. Love wanted to persevere until the last possible moment. When the island was almost sinking, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel, "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat." Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked for help, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh....Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!" Happiness passed by Love too, but he was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her! Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come Love, I will take you." It was an elder. Love felt so blessed and overjoyed that he even forgot to ask the elder his name. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went his own way. Love realizing how much he owed the elder and asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who helped me?" "It was Time," Knowledge answered. "Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?" Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because, only Time is capable of understanding how great Love is."
Saturday, November 30, 2013
She was engrossed in her book but happened to see, that the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be. . .grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between, which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.
So she munched the cookies and watched the clock, as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock. She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by, thinking, “If I wasn’t so nice, I would blacken his eye.”
With each cookie she took, he took one too, when only one was left, she wondered what he would do. With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh, he took the last cookie and broke it in half.
He offered her half, as he ate the other, she snatched it from him and thought… oooh, brother. This guy has some nerve and he’s also rude, why he didn’t even show any gratitude!
She had never known when she had been so galled, and sighed with relief when her flight was called. She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate, refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.
She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat, then she sought her book, which was almost complete. As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise, there was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.
If mine are here, she moaned in despair, the others were his, and he tried to share. Too late to apologize, she realized with grief, that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.
By Valerie Cox in “A Matter of Perspective”
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 the 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. You might not know it until some time later…
Should you find it hard to get to sleep tonight, remember the homeless family who has no bed to lie in.
Should you find yourself stuck in traffic, don’t despair, there are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard-of privilege.
Should you have a bad day at work, think of the man who has been out of work for many months struggling to feed his family.
Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror, think of the cancer patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine.
Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all about, asking, “What is my purpose?”, be thankful, there are those who didn’t live long enough to get the opportunity.
Friday, November 29, 2013
"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked.
When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quicky and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.
Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed. knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks. He blurted out the tragedy "A boy, a big boy .... called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. “But you might mingle with other young people,” his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart. The boy’s father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? “I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured,” the doctor decided.
Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by. Then, “You are going to the hospital, Son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it’s a secret,” said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.
Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. “But I must know!” He urged his father, “Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him.” “I do not believe you could,” said the father, “but the agreement was that you are not to know … not yet.” The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come … one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother’s casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother had no outer ears. “Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut,” he whispered gently, “and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?”
Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.
This is how human brain changes when the status changed. Only few remember what life was before, and who’s always been there even in the most painful situations.
Life Is A Gift
Today before you think of saying an unkind word–
think of someone who can’t speak.
Before you complain about the taste of your food–
think of someone who has nothing to eat.
Before you complain about your husband or wife–
think of someone who is crying out to God for a companion.
Today before you complain about life–
think of someone who went too early to heaven.
Before you complain about your children–
think of someone who desires children but they’re barren.
Before you argue about your dirty house, someone didn’t clean or sweep–
think of the people who are living in the streets.
Before whining about the distance you drive–
think of someone who walks the same distance with their feet.
And when you are tired and complain about your job–
think of the unemployed, the disabled and those who wished they had your job.
But before you think of pointing the finger or condemning another–
remember that not one of us are without sin and we all answer to one maker.
And when depressing thoughts seem to get you down–
put a smile on your face and thank God you’re alive and still around.
Life is a gift – Live it, Enjoy it, Celebrate it, and Fulfill it.
A few years after I left my secondary school in Manchester, I was invited to help out with the school's Christmas Fair and I decided to have a go at being Father Christmas. I had recently grown my first full beard and thought that I would enter into the role by rubbing flour into my growth. Though I say it myself, I looked rather splendid and certainly I attracted lots of custom.
I was enjoying myself enormously, bringing a sense of magic to so many young children, but I was mystified by one young boy who paid for a second visit and then astonishingly for a third. The presents on offer were really pretty pitiful, so I asked him why he was coming to see me so often. He answered simply: "I just love talking to you".
It was then that I realised that, in many households, parents do not encourage their children to talk and really listen to them. This was a lesson that I have taken with me throughout my life. So, at home, at work, socially, always encourage family, friends, colleagues to talk about themselves and their feelings - and really listen.
Author: Roger Darlington
There once was a bunch of tiny frogs...
... who arranged a running competition. The goal was to reach the top of a very high tower. A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on the contestants...
The race began...
Honestly, no-one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of the tower. You heard statements such as:
"Oh, WAY too difficult!!"
"They will NEVER make it to the top".
"Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"
The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one...
... Except for those who in a fresh tempo were climbing higher and higher...
The crowd continued to yell
"It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!
"
More tiny frogs got tired and gave up...
...But ONE continued higher and higher and higher...
This one wouldn't give up!
At the end, everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny frog who, after a big effort, was the only one who reached the top!
THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally wanted to know how this one frog managed to do it?
A contestant asked the tiny frog how the one who succeeded had found the strength to reach the goal?
It turned out...
That the winner was deaf.
When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the communications trade union for which I then worked received several delegations from the emergent nations and we ran courses for them on how market economies operated and how free collective bargaining was conducted. As is my practice when lecturing to foreign audiences, I had my visual aids translated into the vernacular, so I used overhead slides in Russian, although of course I spoke in English and had an interpreter.
I cannot read the cyrillic alphabet and know very little Russian, so I just worked through my slides in order. However, there came a point when I could tell from the statistical data on the latest slide that, for the previous ten minutes, I had been speaking to the wrong slide. British students would have pointed this out in seconds, but none of the Russians had said a word.
I was perplexed and asked why nobody had told me that I had been speaking to the wrong slide. Eventually one brave soul volunteered an answer and the interpreter translated: "In our country, no one challenges the teacher".
Author: Roger Darlington
One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches!
The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck'.
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally, just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.
A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign which said: "I am blind, please help."
There were only a few coins in the hat.
A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.
Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were.
The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, "Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?"
The man said, "I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way." I wrote: "Today is a beautiful day but I cannot see it."
Both signs told people that the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people that they were so lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?
Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be innovative. Think differently and positively. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.
The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling. And even more beautiful, is knowing that you are the reason behind it!
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
There were only a few coins in the hat.
A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.
Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were.
The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, "Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?"
The man said, "I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way." I wrote: "Today is a beautiful day but I cannot see it."
Both signs told people that the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people that they were so lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?
Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be innovative. Think differently and positively. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.
The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling. And even more beautiful, is knowing that you are the reason behind it!
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
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