The Wooden Bowl (Day 25)

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and a four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together nightly at the dinner table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass often milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor. So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner at the dinner table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.

For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day that building blocks are being laid for the child's future.

Let us all be wise builders and role models. Take care of yourself, ... and those you love, ... today, and everyday!

Sand and Stone (Day 24)

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE."

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one, who had been slapped, got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After the friend recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE."

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"

The other friend replied: "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND, AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE

A Dream Realized (Day 23)

I feel certain that when my classmates compiled our high school yearbook, nobody suggested that I be voted most likely to become a successful, bestselling author. To those who knew me then, my achievements as an adult are probably a bit of a surprise. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that our intention, propelled by our positive emotions, can make any dream a reality.


In the early 2000's, I set a goal to be a New York Times bestselling author. To me, that symbolized a pinnacle of success. I had spent countless hours learning about personal growth and self-discovery, enjoyed a career in the technology industry, and had transitioned into a new career as a seminar leader, speaker and mentor. I loved helping people formulate and achieve their goals and wanted to communicate my ideas in a way that would uplift and inspire people all over the world.


I didn't grow up wanting to be an author. In fact, I've often heard interviews with authors who talk about loving their English class in school and how they enjoy writing stories and have always known they wanted to be a writer, but that isn't me at all. When I first wrote down my ambitious goal of becoming a bestselling author, I immediately thought to myself: "Yeah right, Peggy!" I had little formal education and no idea how to write a book or create a bestseller. I didn't know anyone in the publishing business or anyone who marketed books. With no clue how to achieve my goal, I just planted a seed and opened myself up to whatever opportunities came my way.


I could have dwelled on all the reasons someone like me couldn't become a New York Times bestselling author. Instead, I discarded those negative thoughts about reaching such a lofty, even seemingly impossible goal. That's where many people can get stuck. They think, "That's something I'd really like to have," but then, BOOM, up come 101 reasons why they can't get it. They don't know how to get from where they are to where they want to be, become frustrated and lost, then let the fire of their passion subside, and the dream dies. Looking back, they'll sigh and say, "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."


As unrealistic as my goal might have seemed to others, I held on to the belief that we don't need to know how something is going to manifest, we just have to trust that it will.


Our intention, coupled with strong feelings of curiosity, enthusiasm, and faith, takes us from seed to flower, and becomes the driving force of achieving or attracting anything.


Our job is simply to identify what we want and then begin generating the emotions we'd feel if our dream had already come true. For me, that meant using my imagination to create the emotional experience of being a bestselling author. I had to act as if my name and book title were already on that prestigious New York Times list. I planted the seed of my intention, then watered and nurtured it with my feelings, thoughts, and actions.


My enthusiasm propelled me into action, and I began to create a file of ideas. It occurred to me to try to figure out the ingredients of a successful book, so I went to my bookshelf, took down books I'd really loved and been moved by, and skimmed them to see how they were organized and what elements had made them such excellent guides. I went on to study more bestselling books and soon I had clarity about how I would go about presenting my thoughts.


All the while, I was constantly visualizing my bestselling author experience. Actually, "visualizing" doesn't quite capture the intensity of what I was doing. I truly lived the experience, heart and soul. One day, it occurred to me that if I wanted to achieve my goal, I was going to have to be extremely persistent, like a dog holding on to a bone that someone wants to take away.


I can't say that the writing flowed easily. It was very hard work at times, but I stuck to my plan and sat down at that computer even when I was feeling a little nervous or insecure. I told myself, "I'll just expand on my ideas and see where they go." I thought positively, generated a feeling of confidence and excitement, and started typing away.


At last, I'd completed my first manuscript. One book lead to another book and in my quest to become an author, at first, I chose to self publish my books. However, to become a New York Times bestselling author, I needed to find a Publisher.


During this whole process, I continued being a student. From what I've found, successful people are all on a lifelong path of learning and constantly improving themselves.


When I came up with the concept for Your Destiny Switch, I felt it was very important for me to promote the message of the book: that the power of our emotions is what allows us to reach our goals.


I'd found a literary agent through a business associate, and she sold Your Destiny Switch to a large publisher, Hay House. I decided that this was the book that was going to be on the New York Times bestseller list.


To make this happen, I used a primary strategy of online marketing. I specifically lined up promotional activities for the week that the book would be launching and available on shelves in bookstores as well as online. I prepared a massive internet marketing campaign, joyfully watched my book climb to the top of the Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com bestseller lists the week of the launch, and was elated a few days later when my agent, Cathy, called to tell me that the book had hit the New York Times bestseller list.and on the very first week of release! (Note: When your book reaches the list, it doesn't actually appear until a couple of weeks later.)


I remember jumping up and down like I was on a pogo stick, feeling absolutely exhilarated. While I was tingling with excitement, I was also thinking, "You know, this is exactly what I knew it would be like." The feeling was very familiar.


You see, I'd been experiencing this excitement for years, every time I envisioned myself having already achieved my goal, whether I was feeling the emotion during the call from my agent or reading my affirmations and expressing my joy and gratitude that I was a New York Times bestselling author. The Universe had answered my intention with the very situation I'd imagined. It was magical.


Our thoughts, feelings, and actions have tremendous power. We can tap into positivity at any moment we choose and begin to shift our energy, sending a clear message that we're ready and eager to receive all that we desire. The intensity of our emotions, and the ease with which we can switch them, is what Your Destiny Switch is all about.


I would love to go to the top of the highest mountain and scream this out so that everyone in the world could hear me: "You don't have to know how you will achieve your dream.set the dream and feel the elation of achieving it and it will happen!" Each day, I'm inspired to spread the word that we all can use the rocket fuel of positive emotions to make our dreams come true. The Universe always answers the clear call of our intention.




Peggy McColl

The Making Of A Mother (Day 22)

By the time the Lord made mothers, He was into the sixth day working overtime. An Angel appeared and said "Why are you spending so much time on this one?"

And the Lord answered and said, "Have you read the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not elastic; have 200 movable parts, all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up; have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart; and have six pairs of hands."
The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No way!" said the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem. It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"

"And that's on the standard model?" the Angel asked.

The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."

The Angel tried to stop the Lord "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."

"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower."

The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."

"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."

"Will she be able to think?" asked the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."

The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like You have a leak with this model. I told You that You were trying to put too much into this one."

"That's not a leak." the Lord objected. "That's a tear!"

"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.

The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."

The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything for this one. You even created the tear!"

The Lord looked at the Angel and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you are wrong again. I created the woman, but she created the tear!"

Love and Time (Day 21)

Once upon a time, there was an island 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 constructed boats and left. Except for Love.Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment.When the island had almost sunk, 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, "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 she 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. So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much was owed the elder, Love 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 valuable Love is."

A Dream Realized (Day 20)

I feel certain that when my classmates compiled our high school yearbook, nobody suggested that I be voted most likely to become a successful, bestselling author. To those who knew me then, my achievements as an adult are probably a bit of a surprise. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that our intention, propelled by our positive emotions, can make any dream a reality.
In the early 2000's, I set a goal to be a New York Times bestselling author. To me, that symbolized a pinnacle of success. I had spent countless hours learning about personal growth and self-discovery, enjoyed a career in the technology industry, and had transitioned into a new career as a seminar leader, speaker and mentor. I loved helping people formulate and achieve their goals and wanted to communicate my ideas in a way that would uplift and inspire people all over the world.
I didn't grow up wanting to be an author. In fact, I've often heard interviews with authors who talk about loving their English class in school and how they enjoy writing stories and have always known they wanted to be a writer, but that isn't me at all. When I first wrote down my ambitious goal of becoming a bestselling author, I immediately thought to myself: "Yeah right, Peggy!" I had little formal education and no idea how to write a book or create a bestseller. I didn't know anyone in the publishing business or anyone who marketed books. With no clue how to achieve my goal, I just planted a seed and opened myself up to whatever opportunities came my way.
I could have dwelled on all the reasons someone like me couldn't become a New York Times bestselling author. Instead, I discarded those negative thoughts about reaching such a lofty, even seemingly impossible goal. That's where many people can get stuck. They think, "That's something I'd really like to have," but then, BOOM, up come 101 reasons why they can't get it. They don't know how to get from where they are to where they want to be, become frustrated and lost, then let the fire of their passion subside, and the dream dies. Looking back, they'll sigh and say, "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
As unrealistic as my goal might have seemed to others, I held on to the belief that we don't need to know how something is going to manifest, we just have to trust that it will.
Our intention, coupled with strong feelings of curiosity, enthusiasm, and faith, takes us from seed to flower, and becomes the driving force of achieving or attracting anything.
Our job is simply to identify what we want and then begin generating the emotions we'd feel if our dream had already come true. For me, that meant using my imagination to create the emotional experience of being a bestselling author. I had to act as if my name and book title were already on that prestigious New York Times list. I planted the seed of my intention, then watered and nurtured it with my feelings, thoughts, and actions.
My enthusiasm propelled me into action, and I began to create a file of ideas. It occurred to me to try to figure out the ingredients of a successful book, so I went to my bookshelf, took down books I'd really loved and been moved by, and skimmed them to see how they were organized and what elements had made them such excellent guides. I went on to study more bestselling books and soon I had clarity about how I would go about presenting my thoughts.
All the while, I was constantly visualizing my bestselling author experience. Actually, "visualizing" doesn't quite capture the intensity of what I was doing. I truly lived the experience, heart and soul. One day, it occurred to me that if I wanted to achieve my goal, I was going to have to be extremely persistent, like a dog holding on to a bone that someone wants to take away.
I can't say that the writing flowed easily. It was very hard work at times, but I stuck to my plan and sat down at that computer even when I was feeling a little nervous or insecure. I told myself, "I'll just expand on my ideas and see where they go." I thought positively, generated a feeling of confidence and excitement, and started typing away.
At last, I'd completed my first manuscript. One book lead to another book and in my quest to become an author, at first, I chose to self publish my books. However, to become a New York Times bestselling author, I needed to find a Publisher.
During this whole process, I continued being a student. From what I've found, successful people are all on a lifelong path of learning and constantly improving themselves.
When I came up with the concept for Your Destiny Switch, I felt it was very important for me to promote the message of the book: that the power of our emotions is what allows us to reach our goals.
I'd found a literary agent through a business associate, and she sold Your Destiny Switch to a large publisher, Hay House. I decided that this was the book that was going to be on the New York Times bestseller list.
To make this happen, I used a primary strategy of online marketing. I specifically lined up promotional activities for the week that the book would be launching and available on shelves in bookstores as well as online. I prepared a massive internet marketing campaign, joyfully watched my book climb to the top of the Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com bestseller lists the week of the launch, and was elated a few days later when my agent, Cathy, called to tell me that the book had hit the New York Times bestseller list.and on the very first week of release! (Note: When your book reaches the list, it doesn't actually appear until a couple of weeks later.)
I remember jumping up and down like I was on a pogo stick, feeling absolutely exhilarated. While I was tingling with excitement, I was also thinking, "You know, this is exactly what I knew it would be like." The feeling was very familiar.
You see, I'd been experiencing this excitement for years, every time I envisioned myself having already achieved my goal, whether I was feeling the emotion during the call from my agent or reading my affirmations and expressing my joy and gratitude that I was a New York Times bestselling author. The Universe had answered my intention with the very situation I'd imagined. It was magical.
Our thoughts, feelings, and actions have tremendous power. We can tap into positivity at any moment we choose and begin to shift our energy, sending a clear message that we're ready and eager to receive all that we desire. The intensity of our emotions, and the ease with which we can switch them, is what Your Destiny Switch is all about.
I would love to go to the top of the highest mountain and scream this out so that everyone in the world could hear me: "You don't have to know how you will achieve your dream.set the dream and feel the elation of achieving it and it will happen!" Each day, I'm inspired to spread the word that we all can use the rocket fuel of positive emotions to make our dreams come true. The Universe always answers the clear call of our intention.

Peggy McColl

Building Your House (Day 19)

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building business to live a more leisurely life with his wife and enjoy his extended family. He would miss the paycheck each week, but he wanted to retire. They could get by. The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go & asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but over time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career. When the carpenter finished his work, his employer came to inspect the house. Then he handed the front-door key to the carpenter and said, "This is your house... my gift to you."The carpenter was shocked! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then, with a shock, we realize we have to live in the house we have built. If we could do it over, we would do it much differently.But, you cannot go back. You are the carpenter, and every day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Someone once said, "Life is a do-it-yourself project." Your attitude, and the choices you make today, help build the "house" you will live in tomorrow. Therefore, Build wisely!

Wait For The Brick (Day 18)

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and drove the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car, shouting, "What was that all about and who are you?Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money.Why did you do it?"The young boy was apologetic. "Please mister ... please, I'm sorry... I didn't know what else to do," he pleaded."I threw the brick because no one else would stop..."With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car."It's my brother," he said."He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."
Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out his fancy handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay.
"Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger.Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the little boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home. It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!

4 Wives (Day 17)

There was a rich merchant who had 4 wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best.
He also loved the 3rd wife very much. He's very proud of her and always wanted to show off her to his friends. However, the merchant is always in great fear that she might run away with some other men.
He too, loved his 2nd wife. She is a very considerate person, always patient and in fact is the merchant's confidante. Whenever the merchant faced some problems, he always turned to his 2nd wife and she would always help him out and tide him through difficult times.
Now, the merchant's 1st wife is a very loyal partner and has made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and business as well as taking care of the household. However, the merchant did not love the first wife and although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her.
One day, the merchant fell ill. Before long, he knew that he was going to die soon. He thought of his luxurious life and told himself, "Now I have 4 wives with me. But when I die, I'll be alone. How lonely I'll be!"
Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I loved you 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 4th wife and she walked away without another word.
The answer cut like a sharp knife right into the merchant's heart. The sad merchant then asked the 3rd wife, "I have loved you so much for all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No!" replied the 3rd wife. "Life is so good over here! I'm going to remarry when you die!" The merchant's heart sank and turned cold.
He then asked the 2nd wife, "I always turned to you for help and you've always helped me out. Now I need your help again. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!" replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only send you to your grave." The answer came like a bolt of thunder and the merchant was devastated.
Then a voice called out : "I'll leave with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The merchant looked up and there was his first wife. She was so skinny, almost like she suffered from malnutrition. Greatly grieved, the merchant said, "I should have taken much better care of you while I could have !"
Actually, we all have 4 wives in our lives
a. The 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it'll leave us when we die.
b. Our 3rd wife ? Our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, they all go to others.
c. The 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how close they had been there for us when we're alive, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.
d. The 1st wife is in fact our soul, often neglected in our pursuit of material, wealth and sensual pleasure.
Guess what? It is actually the only thing that follows us wherever we go. Perhaps it's a good idea to cultivate and strengthen it now rather than to wait until we're on our deathbed to lament

Two Frogs (Day 16)

A group of frogs were traveling through the woods, and two of them fell into a deep pit. When the other frogs saw how deep the pit was, they told the two frogs that they were as good as dead. The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump up out of the pit with all their might. The other frogs kept telling them to stop, that they were as good as dead. Finally, one of the frogs took heed to what the other frogs were saying and gave up. He fell down and died.The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the crowd of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and just die. He jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out, the other frogs said, "Did you not hear us?" The frog explained to them that he was deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time.This story teaches two lessons:1. There is power of life and death in the tongue. An encouraging word to someone who is down can lift them up and help them make it through the day.2. A destructive word to someone who is down can be what it takes to kill them.Be careful of what you say. Speak life to those who cross your path. The power of words... it is sometimes hard to understand that an encouraging word can go such a long way. Anyone can speak words that tend to rob another of the spirit to continue in difficult times. Special is the individual who will take the time to encourage another.

Author Unknown

I'm a Skunk (Day 15)

I pulled my car into the garage and stepped outside. It was a beautiful evening. Stars sparkled in the dark sky, unusual for our area, which is close to the bright lightsof Manhattan and Jersey City. Instead of going inside, I walked around the corner. In the shadows created by a streetlight, I looked up. Stars dotted the sky – more than I’ve seen since I lived in Nova Scotia, where, free from city lights, the Milky Way cut a wide swath through the darkness overhead. “Ginny needs to see this.” I thought and turned to go in. In my lower vision,in spite of the darkness, I noticed movement. I paused and looked down. A white linemoved inches from my feet. Fear caused me to hold my breath. The word, “Skunk!” screamed in my head. I stood still. “Don’t move a muscle! Maybe it will go away.” I thought to myself. The skunk strolled away from me and entered an area illuminated by the streetlight. I breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t seen me. It was just a baby, maybe a foot long, but it doesn’t take much of a skunk to cause a huge stink. When I thought it was safe, I inched my way along the edge of the house, toward the corner and the safety of my garage. I was a few feet from the corner when the skunk, who must have sensed me, turned in my direction. We both froze. “Shoo!!” I said, waving my hands. “Go away!” I said sternly, waving my hands at it again.The young skunk, who apparently didn’t understand English, moved toward me. I backed up. “Sho, little fella. Go away.” It turned and began to walk away, but as soon as I moved in the direction of the garage, it turned, and once again came at me. Before it got too close, I rounded the corner, and entered the lighted garage.I peeked out. The little skunk was still coming. “Sho!” I said a final time and dashed to the door leading into the house. I hit the button beside door. The garage creaked and groaned as it closed. “That was close.” I thought to myself.The next morning, when I came down stairs to get ready for work, Ginny said tome, “Mike, there’s something in the garage. I was down there. Something is scratching around in the corner by the recycling.”“Skunk!” I said.“It might be.”“No! You don’t understand.” I told her the story about the young skunk who triedto attack me the night before. “I bet it followed me into the garage.”We tip-toed down the steps and opened the door. The scratching came from the far corner of the garage. I reached out and hit the button. The garage door rumbled to life and slowly opened. Sunlight steamed in, lighting the corner where the noise came from. The scratching continued.I inched toward the noise. It seemed to come from one of my blue recycling containers. I peeked inside. “Uh Oh!” “What?” Ginny asked.“I was right. It’s the skunk. It did follow me in. It must have climbed onto the boxes and fallen into the container. The sides are too high for it to get out.”“What are you going to do?” “I don’t know. I guess I’ll drag the container outside, roll it over and run.”I stooped low, kept out of the skunk’s view and aim, and slowly dragged the container across the floor. Like a bomb squad member, trying to cause as little disturbance as possible, I pulled it out the door, across the driveway and into the grass.“OK! Here we go.” I said to Ginny. I tipped the can on its side and ran back to the garage. Together we watched the skunk waddle out and begin to walk away.“Michael, it’s just a baby. It’s so cute.”“Cute? It’s a skunk. Can you imagine what the garage would smell like if it hadsquirted in there?”“It’s just a baby. Maybe it wasn’t going to hurt you. You said it was coming atyou. If it felt threatened, it would have turned and raised its tail. I think it wanted a friend.”“You could be right, but I’m not sure I want to take the chance.” I replied.“If you see it again, just stand there and see what it does.” Ginny said.“You could be right.”I never got the chance. A few weeks later, I was walking home from the store.In the middle of the street was my little skunk. It tried to cross the street and been hit by a car. With a heavy heart, I continued home. I’d never been sprayed by a skunk and don’t know of anyone who has been. My fear of the little skunk came from stories I’d heard and read. Without any personal experience with skunks, I had a prejudice, which caused me to be afraid of them. The little skunk was too young to have a fear of humans. It was on its own that night and wanted a friend. It made me wonder, how many times in my life have I turned my back on someone because of a prejudice created by what others thought?“Don’t play with him. He’s nothing but trouble.” my friends said.“I’d stay away from her. She stole my pencil.” a classmate warned.“He’s strange. He never talks to anyone.” a co-worker said about another.Those words caused me to be prejudice. Maybe the trouble maker was really calling out for attention. Maybe they needed a friend. The girl who stole the pencil may have been from a poor family and couldn’t afford a new one to replace one she lost. The co-worker actually turned into a great friend. He was just very shy. The little skunk was in this world for only a short time, but he changed me. I no longer let the things people say about another to cloud my judgment. I put all prejudices aside and give people the chance to show me who they are. And if anyone ever calls me a skunk, I’m going to take it as a compliment!

Michael T. Smith

I Wish You Enough ( Day 15)

I never really thought that I'd spend as much time in airports as I do. I don't know why. I always wanted to be famous and that would mean lots of travel. But I'm not famous, yet I do see more than my share of airports.
I love them and I hate them. I love them because of the people I get to watch. But they are also the same reason why I hate airports. It all comes down to "hello" and "goodbye." I must have mentioned this a few times while writing my stories.
I have great difficulties with saying goodbye. Even as I write this I am experiencing that pounding sensation in my heart. If I am watching such a scene in a movie I am affected so much that I need to sit up and take a few deep breaths. So when faced with a challenge in my life I have been known to go to our local airport and watch people say goodbye. I figure nothing that is happening to me at the time could be as bad as having to say goodbye.
Watching people cling to each other, crying, and holding each other in that last embrace makes me appreciate what I have even more. Seeing them finally pull apart, extending their arms until the tips of their fingers are the last to let go, is an image that stays forefront in my mind throughout the day.
On one of my recent business trips, when I arrived at the counter to check in, the woman said, "How are you today?" I replied, "I am missing my wife already and I haven't even said goodbye."
She then looked at my ticket and began to ask, "How long will you...Oh, my God. You will only be gone three days!" We all laughed. My problem was I still had to say goodbye.
But I learn from goodbye moments, too.
Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her departure and standing near the security gate, they hugged and he said, "I love you. I wish you enough." She in turn said, "Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy."
They kissed and she left. He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say goodbye to someone knowing it would be forever?"
"Yes, I have," I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.
So I knew what this man was experiencing.
"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever goodbye?" I asked.
"I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, the next trip back would be for my funeral," he said.
"When you were saying goodbye I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I ask what that means?"
He began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more."When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them," he continued and then turning toward me he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.I wish you enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye."
He then began to sob and walked away.
My friends, I wish you enough!

Bob Perks

My Best Friend( Day 14)

Have you ever had someone in your life that loves you unconditionally, no I mean UNCONDITIONALY! Fortunately for me I do, her name is Maggie and she is 9 years old and loves a scratch behind her ear. Yes you guess it, Maggie is my beloved dog. Maggie is an American Golden Retriever, meaning she is the bread with the red coat and not the light brown.

Showing someone unconditional love 24/7 is a difficult task but most dogs have that ability to overcome mistreatment, abuse, neglect and lack of attention with pure love. The only thing they look for in return is love and attention; sounds like the dogs of this world have a better perspective on how we should treat others don’t you think! Unfortunately they are the ones on a rope sitting in the rain most dark and lonely nights.

Fortunately I am an optimist and the glass is always half full. But if I am being honest this is a difficult one today for sure, Maggie was diagnosed with cancer in her spin today. So hear is the deal, how long do I selfishly have her suffer until I do what needs to be done, and right now I can not answer that question. Getting back to the glass being half full, I have a tendency to get side tracked easily, not focused like Maggie. I have been blessed to have 9 fantastic years with a best friend that greats me with love and attention when I am happy or even better when I am down and need a loving touch. She always aims to please and never talks back, never complains about the same food I give her day in and day out. And if that wasn’t enough she is always there to listen when I need to vent or just need someone to listen.

Can anyone give me a better example of a best friend? So the next time your dog, or even your cat are in your way and you tell them to get lost, stop and think about what they give you in return for those words, you may decide to chose them a little more wisely the next time.

You never know in life where a lesson can be learned. Even a 4 legged animal may hold the secret of life that you have been searching for and never noticed. God bless you Maggie, you are my best friend!

Shawn Murphy
http://retiretoday.ws/

How I Learned To Love Books (Day 13)

My earliest memory of a book is a story about Mr. Flibbertyjibbet. Is it any wonder that name can be easily plucked from my memory bank 65 years later? My mother reads the book to me as we snuggle on the sofa. My father reads the book to me, too. I bring the book out whenever an adult is there, and I hand it to them. My grandmother, every one of my aunts and Mother’s friends—they all read to me.My kindergarten teacher reads to us, too. She sits on a small chair, and we all gather around her, sitting Indian-fashion on a green carpet. Every day Miss Horst reads a new story and shows us the pictures. Her hair is silver, her lips are cherry red, and her eyes sparkle as she reads. I want to read the book myself, but I don’t know how. Mother makes a promise. “Next year you’ll learn to read.” And I trust her, for she’s never been wrong.I am six years old and in the first grade. Miss Curto passes out the books, one for each child. “Do not open the books,” she says. How can I wait any longer to see if I know how to read now? The teacher shows us the proper way to open a new book—first the front cover, then the back. Then we close it again and she instructs us to open to the first page. There are a few words, but I don’t know what they say. I’m disappointed. I can’t read. Was Mother wrong? But in only a matter of days, I am reading. I read stories about Dick and Jane and Baby Sally. I am one of the first to finish the book. And then there is a new book, and my happiness knows no bounds. This one has the same children in it and their dog and cat. Spot and Puff become my friends, and I read more and more books.At home, I read Mr. Flibbertyjibbet to my mother. I read to my father, my grandmother and my aunts. I bring home books from school and I read them over and over.One day my mother takes me to a new place. She explains we are going to the library, and by the time we have walked several blocks to the square brick building, I know that the library is full of books that I may borrow. I know that I must be very careful with the books because we must return them for other children to read. “We would like a library card, please,” my mother tells the woman behind the big desk by the front door. The woman has white hair that is pulled away from her face and fixed in a bun behind her head. Her cheeks look soft, and she has eyes that are as blue as the summer sky. Rimless glasses rest on her nose. She wears a navy blue dress with a white lace collar, and she is fat like one of my aunts. Her mouth is clamped tight like my grandmother’s when she is angry. Maybe I won’t like this place after all. Then the lady slides a card across the desk, dips a pen in an inkwell, and hands it to me. “Write your name on this line, please.”I print my first and last name as neatly as I can and slide the card back to her. She comes around to the front of the desk. “I am Miss Mayes,” she says. “and I will show you where the books for you are kept.” She smiles at me and holds out her hand. Mother nods when I look at her for direction. I slip my hand into the one Miss Mayes has offered. I look down and see she is wearing black oxfords that tie, and the skin around her ankles hangs down over her shoes. I wonder if it hurts. We walk up two steps into a world of enchantment. Miss Mayes patiently shows me row upon row of books, and she shows me how to replace them on the shelf after I look at them. She helps me choose three books to take home, and then it is time to go back to the big desk and learn how to check them out. My library card will be ready for me the next time we visit she tells us. As the years go on, the library becomes my second home, and Miss Mayes becomes my special friend. Her eyes light up, and she smiles whenever I walk in the door. She often shows me new books that have arrived, and I am eager to check them out. I am there winter and summer, in sunshine and thunderstorms.I learn that if you like a book especially well, you should look for more books by the same author. I read a series of books with titles like Ballet Shoes, Theater Shoes, and Circus Shoes, and I dream about being one of the girls in those books. I read books by Lois Lenski called Strawberry Girl and Blueberry Sal, and I learn about being a child of a migrant worker. I read all the Nancy Drew mystery books, the Bobbsey Twins, the Little House books, and move into a series about a girl named Sue Barton. I follow Sue as she becomes a student nurse, a resident nurse, a visiting nurse and every kind of nursing job there is. And then I am a teen, and I read young adult books like Bramble Bush, which moves me to tears, ands soon I move on to adult books. All these years in the 1940’s and 50’s, I visit the library almost on a weekly basis. I walk several blocks, taking a shortcut behind the elevated train platform. I carry a stack of books to the library on the cinder path and come back with books piled high in my arms. I read in all my spare time. I leave my everyday existence behind when I am reading. I learn about other cultures, live vicariously through the heroines in the books I devour. I store up a desire to travel so I can see these wondrous places in the books. My favorite class in college is the literature class. I am the only one who doesn’t groan when the professor tells us we will read one novel every week. We go to the college book store, check out a book on Friday afternoon, and we are to be ready to discuss it on Monday morning. I look forward to Friday morning when the professor gives us the name of the book for the week. My feet fly across campus to the bookstore. I am a fast reader and have no trouble finishing by Monday, while some of the others sit up late on Sunday night trying to finish.I’m a senior citizen now, but I still love books. I am never without a book to read, and the library still feels like home to me. When I am there surrounded by thousands of books, I feel a sense of peace and contentment that I find in no other place. As I make my selection from the fiction shelves and from the shelf that holds books about writing, I sometimes think of Miss Mayes. I learned to read at school, but I learned about the world of books from Miss Mayes. I wish I’d thanked her for what she gave me, but as a child and a teen, I was too shy to do that. Perhaps she knew what sharing her treasures meant to me. I’d like to think so.

By Nancy Julien Kopp

The Book (Day 12)

I want to tell you a story that has the potential to really impact your life. It sure has mine. I would imagine you've listened to a number of radio shows. Well I'm interviewed on them frequently. I was on a radio show one morning many years ago, and the host and I were really involved with the concept that one idea can change your business, in fact can change your entire life. The host himself was a pretty positive guy and we really had the show rocking. It was one of those call-in shows, and we had the lines plugged. All the callers were enthusiastic, telling us how much they were enjoying our conversation, how it was helping them.
And then, all of a sudden, like a huge clap of thunder, a woman came roaring on the line and really unloaded on the two of us. Our conversation obviously had her upset. It quickly became apparent that her life was very frustrating for her. While she was listening to us, she must have drifted back in time and space to a time when she was in college, thinking about all the enthusiastic plans she had at that time in her life and then comparing them with the reality of how her life had turned out. It was truly a reality crisis that was happening with this woman. It was almost like we were the bad guys; that it was our fault that the plans she made as a young woman never materialized. She started out saying, "You guys are wrong. Life is not how you are talking about it. It's totally different. When I was in college I wanted to be an author, I wanted to write books. Now I'm stuck here with three little kids. I can't just pick up and go to some South Sea Island to write books."
I guess the South Sea Island was part of the plan when she was in college. I was tempted to ask her who decided to have 3 kids, but I didn't dare make her any more upset. I explained to her that I knew a number of authors and none of them went to the South Seas to write their books. Most of the ones I knew were writing while they were busy working at their job or their business or whatever else they were doing. I pointed out one exception -- John Graham who is the creative director of the Nightingale Conant Corporation took a whole stack of Earl Nightingale's radio shows and went to Bimini for a week and turned the shows into a book called This is Earl Nightingale. It's a really excellent book. You might want one for your library.
Outside of that, I told her, I didn't know any authors that went down South to write a book. Then I suggested to her that she should get up an hour early every morning ahead of the family, make herself a pot of coffee and write a page, just a page. At the end of the year she'd have 365 pages written. Even if she were to miss a number of days she'd have 200 to 300 pages. Then she could take the following year to edit what she had written. That way every couple of years she'd be able to turn out a new book, all the while being with and enjoying her family.
As I said this I thought to myself that's a heck of a good idea. I don't know if she did it, but at 6am the following morning I was up writing. I got so enthused about it I was not only up at 6am writing, I was writing on planes, writing in hotel rooms, writing in between meetings. Before I knew it, I had an enormous folder of hand written pages and my book was finished. Because I carried it with me all the time, I didn't have my name or phone number or anything written on the folder.. You guessed it. I lost the folder. I couldn't believe it; I had left it in the taxi. About an hour after I got home, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn't have my folder with me. A cold chill ran through my body as I told my wife Linda what I had done. She peppered me with questions - "What was the name of the cab company? What was the phone number? What was the cab driver's name?" I didn't have answers for any of her questions, just a blank screen. But I remained calm. Linda wanted to know why I wasn't upset. I explained that with something so bad there had to be something really good about it. The book probably wasn't any good. So I let it go and set out to rewrite the entire book. That book You Were Born Rich has been sold all over the world in a number of different languages. We're constantly receiving letters from people about how the book has changed their life. In fact one person, Nick Halik, said it helped him earn tens of millions of dollars. He recently spent $30 million to become an astronaut in Russia. He's scheduled to go on the Space Station. In fact, I wrote the forward to his book called The Thrillionaire.
Now here's an interesting twist - it was the woman on the radio show that motivated me to write the book. But it was a man who ultimately became my business partner, Gerry Robert, that gave me a suggestion that turned the book into a piece of gold, when I think of what it did for me and my business. And believe me, a book could do the same for you. I believe everyone has a book in them. At any rate, Gerry said, "Bob, rather than sell the book, why don't you give it away. Just sell enough to pay for the books you give away." I looked at him like he had a few screws loose, but he explained that business people spend absolute fortunes on brochures. And yet no one has a brochure case. Lots of people have bookcases, but no brochure cases. And that's because people don't keep brochures. They do keep books. Once it's written, a book doesn't cost much more than a brochure. In fact, in some cases, it costs less. So Gerry said, "Why not use your book as a brochure that will market your business." The more I thought about it, the more I realized it made a lot of sense. It was a very solid, creative concept. I did what Gerry suggested and that idea changed my business like night and day.
Shortly after that, Gerry and I got together to talk about forming a publishing company to help business people write books. We got excited about how much it could help their business grow. We decided to do it. We hired ghost writers, marketing people and designers. Today we've helped between 200 to 300 people create books that they use as their brochure to market their business. It's making as big a difference in their business, just as You Were Born Rich did in mine. The Born Rich book is not just an interesting story, it's the cause of numerous interesting stories. As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in my library surrounded by about 3,000 books, yet none of the books here has helped my business like the Born Rich book has. I think of all the people struggling in business right now that are letting the economy affect them. If they only knew how much a book could help their business, they'd start writing now.
If you would like to find out how a book can help you or your business, send an email to Toni@bobproctor.com. And here's the beautiful part about it, you don't even have to know how to write a book. We do, and we can do it for you or with you. I'll promise you one thing, you put a book out with your name on it and it's not going to get thrown away like so many of the brochures that you've printed in the past. A book changed my life and it can change yours. Find out how -- Toni@bobproctor.com.

Bob Proctor

All in the family (Day11)

Nobody wanted to be there. Not even one person. However, they were all there, and in a strange way, glad they were.
It was the waiting room of the Neuro Trauma Intensive Care Unit (NTICU) at Memorial Hermann Hospital, one of only two "Level One Trauma Hospitals" in Houston, Texas. (Memorial Hermann Hospital was the site of ABC's medical drama entitled "Houston Medical.")
When a person is critically injured -- when one's life is hanging in the balance due to some traumatic event -- the family should always attempt to see to it that its injured loved one goes to a Level One Trauma Unit, if it's possible.
The families in the waiting room of the NTICU almost always appear to be petrified because they know, at any moment, a physician might enter the unit and tell them, "I am very sorry. We tried everything possible, however..."
The first few days, as a rule, the families keep to themselves. However, as time passes by, the families usually get to know each other -- they share the joy when there is good news for a family, and they also share their sorrow when there is poor news for a family. The Unit's many families become a "support group" for each other.
I have seen it often. As one of the social workers for the hospital I understand the dynamics of hope and the importance of support. I have seen families volunteer to take a family from out-of-town to their homes so that they could rest and shower. I have also seen strangers pray for the recovery of someone whom they did not even know 24 hours earlier.
There are many "miraculous" stories about the families in the NTICU. Unfortunately, there are also many times when there is not "a happy ending."
On one occasion, a young man was severely hurt and suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury and was rushed to our hospital. For days, his prognosis was in doubt. His mother was always in the waiting room and I am sure she experienced a roller coaster of emotions, and of course, she breathed a huge sigh of relief when the doctors gave her reason to hope.
Then she saw another mother in the waiting room whose daughter had not been given that hopeful prognosis. The daughter, she was told by the doctors, would probably soon pass away as a result of the severe injuries that she had sustained in a car accident.
The two mothers were soon linked together -- strangers joined forever by a universal magnet -- motherly pain. They became very close, supporting each other in both good and bad times.
Ironically, the predictions for the two mothers were eventually reversed. The young man who was supposed to survive, unfortunately passed away, while the girl who was supposed to die is now making progress in Florida, in her home.
Families in the waiting room can eventually develop very close relationships and begin to care for each other. For example, there were two patients -- one elderly gentleman and the other a teenager -- who had been in the Unit for quite some time. Their families got to know each other, and became close.
The parents of the teenager were always at the hospital, night and day. But, one night, the teenager's mother returned to her home while his father remained in the waiting room. The next morning she returned to the hospital and said to the wife of the elderly patient, who regularly remained at the hospital night and day, "I was worried about you all night."
The elderly woman responded, "I figured you were worried because last night I WAS SLEEPING WITH YOUR HUSBAND IN THE WAITING ROOM AND I WOULDN'T HAVE MISSED IT FOR THE WORLD!"
Everyone burst out in deep laughter. Humor can be a great coping mechanism.
Yes, life can be very difficult. However, it can also be tempered if one has a support system to help and assist during those strenuous and exacting moments.
Support is very important -- especially in the waiting room.

Michael Jordan Segal

The man with the one track mind (Day10)

Eddie Arcaro dreamed of becoming the world's greatest jockey but after watching him ride a horse for five minutes, reality reflected a harsh contradiction. He was awkward and clumsy, and in his early years in the saddle he couldn't do one thing right. He was left behind at the post, he got trapped in traffic jams, he got bumped and boxed in. In his first 100 races he never even came close to winning. Still, he got right back on and tried again.
Even as a schoolboy, Arcaro had set his own track in life. Because he was only a little over five feet tall and weighed barely 80 pounds, the other students shunned him. So he played hooky instead, hanging out at the local race track where a trainer let him gallop the horses. His father reluctantly agreed to let him pursue a career as a jockey, even though he knew it was a long shot. The trainer had told him so. "Send him back to school," he said. "He'll never be a rider."
No one was betting on little Eddie Arcaro, no one that is except Arcaro. He was determined not just to ride, but to become the world's greatest jockey. But first someone would have to give him a chance. He pleaded and persisted until he finally got to ride in a real race. Before it was over, he'd lost his whip and his cap and had almost fallen off the saddle. By the time he finished the race, the other horses were on their way back to the stables. He'd come in dead last.
After that, Arcaro went from track to track, looking for any opportunity to ride. Finally, an owner who felt pity took him in and gave him his next chance. One hundred trophy-less races later, he was still giving him a chance. The trainers saw something in this unlucky jockey, something they couldn't define. Perhaps it was potential, perhaps it was resilience, perhaps it was sheer obstinacy, but no one was willing to send him home. And Arcaro was certainly not going to quit.
There were long years when he was broke, homesick, and almost without friends. There were also many brushes with death and several broken bones. Every time his delicate 63 inch body was trammeled by hoofs he would get patched up and return to the saddle.
Then it happened. Arcaro began to win...and win...and win...Now, instead of leaving a path of destruction, he was leaving a path of devastated opponents. In thirty years of riding, he won 4,779 races, becoming the only jockey in history to win the Kentucky Derby five times. By the time he retired in 1962 he was a millionaire and a legend in his own lifetime.
From the moment he walked out of school and onto a track, Eddie Arcaro had his mind on a finish line. And although the race took thirty years, he never quit until that line was crossed.

Cynthia Kersey

Cynthia Kersey is the author of Unstoppable and Unstoppable WomenCopyright 1998 by

Cynthia KerseyVisit Cynthia's web site at: www.unstoppable.net

Embrace Challenges And Don't Hold Bach (Day 9)

Every one of us has different challenges, situations that stress us, change us, and put us up against a wall. I know beyond any doubt that when your body is given all the opportunities to enjoy its natural capacity for movement, the energy reserves you build up help you cope with what life throws your way. In fact, it helps you do more than cope-it helps you thrive.
I call my own personal challenges the three A's-the three things that shaped my life. The first A is an accident I had at age 19. I broke and tore apart my right arm, shoulder, and chest while riding a motorcycle. I was temporarily paralyzed and spent six months in rehabilitation. . . .This is when I first discovered my passion for making people feel better through physical activity because I experienced first-hand how it made me feel better. If I hadn't had that accident, I might not have grown my company to more than 170 clubs with more than 500,000 members. I might not have gone all over the world speaking about fitness.
The second A is arthritis. At age 32, I woke up one morning instantly crippled. My whole body was swollen, inflamed and in total pain. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I had been an elite athlete, a five-time rowing champion, and overnight I couldn't even turn a doorknob. . . .That was quite a blow to the guy who people thought of as Mr. GoodLife Fitness. I used exercise to help me mentally cope with the symptoms and to regain physical strength and mobility. To this day, exercise helps me control the arthritis.
The third A is autism. At the age of two and a half, my eldest daughter Kilee started showing marked changes in behavior. Her kisses turn into biting, her laughter into constant screams. She started pushing me away when I tried to hug her. She wouldn't make eye contact. I went through a bewildering journey of trying to figure out what was going on. I still remember the initial devastation I felt upon hearing a doctor say, "Your daughter is autistic."
I became determined to help Kilee become the best she could be. I chose not to focus on her condition but on her potential. I chose to love her unconditionally. All my energy went into a very intensive home learning program for her, aimed at drawing the best out of her. . . .I also made the decision to commit myself to finding the cure for autism. I've provided the initial funding for an innovative research team under the direction of neuroscientist Dr. Derrick MacFabe at the University of Western Ontario in London, Ontario. I continue to support that program, closing in on $3 million I've donated to the research team.
You might ask what physical activity has to do with my journey as a parent of an autistic child. The answer is twofold. By keeping up my own regular physical activity, my energy levels stay high, my mind stays sharp, and I cope better with stress. . . .Secondly, I have involved regular physical activity in Kilee's treatment program, with the result that today she has a high level of physical skill. She swims, skis, bikes, runs, and rides horseback.
My three A's have given me a sensitivity toward people whose bodies are not perfect, people who have had injuries and accidents, people who are coping with chronic conditions such as arthritis or diabetes or who are recovering from a heart attack or stroke, and also people who are overwhelmed or scared to exercise because of inexperience. I know what someone means when he or she says, "I had this horrible injury and I feel like I can't do things." I can give people the reassurance that there are things they can do and that their body can indeed find a movement level that will help them.
What are your own personal challenges, and how might physical activity help you? Exercise influences the biggest A of all-your Attitude. When life hits you broadside, respond with your big A-Attitude. And follow your big A with the three E's-Energy, Excitement, and Enthusiasm. Exercise helps you feel the three E's in your body. When you feel it in the body, you feel it in the mind, heart, and spirit. There is no split between mind and body-you are one whole human being.
David Patchell-Evans

It's Just A Piece Of Tin (Day8)

For as long as I can remember, Dad had a saying that, to my adolescent mind, seemed rather strange. He would say, "Either you own the car or the car owns you." To make that point, he would refer to people who buy a really nice car, but won't let anyone drive it - including those closest to them. (I think we all know some of those people). They pamper the car more than they pamper the important people in their lives - and sometimes even themselves.
Little did I know at the time that a lesson Dad taught me when I was 17 would be a lesson I would teach my own son, 29 years later.
In 1976, Cadillac was producing "the last convertible". It was the beautiful, heart-stopping, powerful Eldorado. I remember vividly the day Dad drove that car into our driveway. It had a shining white exterior, with tan, ultra-soft leather. It seemed to silently glide into the drive. It looked enormous, even for the days of the giant gas guzzlers. I still remember the smell of the new interior, and the huge smile on Dad's face, as if it were yesterday.
I always loved driving that beautiful car. I learned to drive in it. I got my license in it. As far as cars go, it was "my first love."
Back then, like today, my father travelled a lot. He was - and still is - on the road more than he is home. When I was younger, this could be a big perk, because - yes, you guessed it - he would freely leave his car for me and my cousins. We all got to enjoy that very special vehicle while he was away.
During one of his trips, I got into a pretty serious accident. I drove into the back of another vehicle - it was completely my fault. I remember looking at the damage to the front of Dad's car, and feeling dread, sorrow and then fear, at having to tell him what I had done. I had no idea how my father would react, but my imagination took worry and fear to new heights.
It took awhile, but I mustered up the courage to call Dad. I told him the whole story - how it was my fault. I described the damage that his beautiful Eldorado had suffered.
I will NEVER forget the concern and the peacefulness in his voice, as he asked me, "Brian, are you ok? That's all that matters. The car is just a piece of tin. It can be fixed." Then he said, "It's called an accident because that is what it is. You didn't intentionally go out to wreck the car, so don't let it bother you another moment."
The car was repaired, and life went on. The next time Dad went out of town, I got to use the car again, without hesitation. Dad loved that car, but he didn't let it control him. This is a lesson I carry to this day.
How lessons can come back around in the strangest ways.
I am often asked what it's like to have Bob Proctor as a father. For a presentation to a large audience, I decided to incorporate a story about my dad, and I chose to tell the story of the Eldorado, because I really wanted everyone to understand what a great man my Dad truly is. It was fun reliving it, and I enjoyed the story as much as everyone else in the group.
Ironically, the very next day, I got a call from my son saying that he had wrecked my truck.
I could hear the worry in his voice. I believe I responded, word for word, exactly as my father had, 29 years earlier. I know my voice was also calm and peaceful; Danny hadn't been hurt, and that was truly the only important thing - not the piece of tin.

Brian ProctorExcerpt from Inspired: The Secret of Bob Proctor

The Box (Day 7)

The beveled glass box atop my dresser dances with color when morning sunlight streams through the window. The multitude of color prompts me to pause; it's become a special time each day when I reflect on memories of my mother.

I remember well the Mother's Day it was given to her because the prior month had been my parent's 50'th wedding anniversary. After a reception in their hometown, the following month we kids sent them to Jamaica to continue their celebration. They returned from the trip on Mother's Day weekend.

Mom loved the glass jewelry box from the moment she opened the package. All sides were beveled and the top was finely etched with flowers and hummingbirds; or as she always referred to them "hummers." It wasn't large; actually it was just the right size for dropping earrings and a necklace into at the end of the day, or for holding pieces worn most often.

Many years passed that I didn't really see it up close, but on the occasions I entered my folk's bedroom it always caught my eye as it rested upon the dresser.

The glass box is more than a beautiful, cherished accessory that holds a variety of Mom's favorite jewelry items; the essence of who she was is tucked inside. Hence, the contents will remain as they are; my gemstones will not be intermingled.

The strands of cultured pearls trigger memories of the many pearls of wisdom she shared with me.

The few diamonds bring to mind her viewpoint in regards to judging others. No matter their social status or background each person is unique and many are a diamond in the rough just waiting for their time to shine.

The gold items hark back to Mother's certainty that silence is golden and one should be open-minded as to the opinions of others, whether you agreed or not. A difference in beliefs was no cause for discord but probably indicated the subject of conversation should be changed.

The silver items prompt me to maintain a positive attitude; Mother chose to believe that most dark clouds were lined with silver.

While sorting Mom's earrings, necklaces and such I discovered several retro pieces I'd not seen before. They were passé by the time I was of the age to admire baubles and beads, but she had stunning brooch and earrings sets. The entire collection creates a myriad of hues that transform the beveled glass box into a device with the ability to capture a rainbow.

After suffering through the Great Depression, Mother's passion for lovely but tasteful costume jewelry revealed that she always remained quite frugal. Still, when morning sun strikes the authentic and artificial display of stones, gold, and silver a mighty shimmer is unleashed; I feel I'm being reminded to reflect on and live by the pearls of wisdom Mom felt most important.

Mother was one of eleven siblings raised by parents that spent their lifetime as tenant farmers. Add to that the Great Depression, and she truly understood the fundamental priorities necessary for a fulfilling life.

I've done my best to live by her teachings.and hope she left this world satisfied that I did grasp and appreciate her life lessons.

In Memory of Mother,
Lovey Arlene Boucher
Mother's Day, 2009

Not Just Another Town (Day 6)

Fred Everhart read the mail and felt sick. What would the kids do? Fred, head of the recreation commission, experienced what many American towns and committees felt - loss of funds.Greenfield, Ohio, population 5000, just another town reliant on the auto industry. Five hundred jobs (70% of the town's industrial employment) would be gone by October 2009. In Willington, the nearest town, DHL Express announced it was pulling out, leaving another 8,000 employees without work. Due to the economic downturn, Greenfield lost fifty percent of the money budgeted to run the city.The economy didn't factor in people like Fred Everhart. In January, 2009, Fred called a meeting. Twenty-five to thirty angry parents showed up. The anger and frustration prevented productivity. The parents understood their own hardship, but how could a city face the same?Fred, not to be beaten, called a second meeting. Nine people attended - The Gang of Nine. Together, they convinced the town to give them $5,000.00 of the $20,000.00 budgeted for little league baseball.Greenfield had only one ballpark, which it could no longer afford to maintain. The "Gang of Nine" convinced the city to give the park to them. Fred posted an advertisement in the local paper a few weeks before opening day - Memorial Day - volunteers needed.On that Saturday morning, Fred arrived at 9 A.M. Only two others waited. They looked out over the field. A small breeze picked up a piece of paper and sent it tumbling over the barren field. The grass was uncut. Holes surrounded the bases, dug into the dirt by last season's players. Water rimmed home plate. Fred looked at his two companions, "Looks like it's just us." He surveyed the field. "Where's the flag?" He frowned, "For that matter, where's the flag pole?""It blew down five years ago." One of his companions said. "They couldn't afford to replace it.""No matter," Fred said, "Let's get to work."They pulled their mowers, shovels, and rakes from their trucks and began to work. At 9:30 A.M. another truck pulled into the parking lot. Behind it, trailing dust, were more cars and trucks. They soon had fifty to sixty men, women and children working. The small army mowed the grass, painted dugouts, patched the fields and mended fences.A local newspaper picked up their efforts and printed a story. The "Gang of Nine's" efforts symbolized the strength of community and was picked up by national media. Fred was overwhelmed with emails, letters, and donations from around the country. They came from Hawaii to Vermont. One lady called from Illinois. She'd lived through the depression and knew what it was like to go without. She didn't want the kids to do the same. A few days later, Fred received a check for $500.00 from her.Baseballs arrived. Twenty-four dozen came in one delivery from New Orleans. Donations of equipment arrived from individuals and little leagues in Pennsylvania and Illinois. The league was featured on "Good Morning America". They received more equipment from the major baseball leagues, and the Cincinnati Reds invited the entire Greenfield league to see a game at "Great American Ballpark" in Cincinnati. Fred wasn't done. He spoke to members of the "Concerned Veterans of Greenfield". Their bylaws prohibited them donating money, but they donated a flagpole and a flag. Fred spoke to a stone mason, Jay Hardy, owner of Hardy Memorials. Fred wanted to do something in return to the veterans. Jay agreed to donate his work to those who fought then and now. Fred expected a small plaque, but one morning, Jay pulled into the parking lot with a section of marble three feet, by two feet, by two inches. The flagpole and monument where mounted in cement. The league made concessions: only one new baseball per game; the scoreboard and lights remained dark; and restrooms were locked, replaced with portable toilets. Four hundred and fifty children, ages five through sixteen, signed up to complete forty-seven teams. On opening day, Fred and his gang surveyed the field once again. Fred remembers one thing - sounds. He listened to the laughter of children, the crack of bats against balls, and above it all, the snapping of the flag blowing in the wind.A call for silence - the national anthem played and the plaque was dedicated to the veterans. "Play ball!" The umpire yelled.The season was on.On July 3, 2009, the last game was played. The last ball was struck. The last game of the season came to an end. The players, parents, coaches, and umpires left the field. The last breath of wind rolled a hotdog wrapper over the infield. The sun dropped below the horizon. The light of day faded. The stars and stripes gave a final wave in the dying wind. It hung limp against the pole - vigilant - waiting for another season. One could imagine the sound of a bugler playing, signaling the end of the day, the end of a season.The economy caused problems around the globe, but in Greenfield, it was beaten - Greenfield, not just another town.Michael T. SmithMichael Smith has authored hundreds of great stories. To read more of his stories, go to: http://ourecho.com/biography-353-Michael-Timothy-Smith.shtml#stories To sign up forhis stories go to: http://visitor.constantcontact.com/d.jsp?m=1101828445578&p=oi

Ever struggle to achieve a goal?(Day 5)

62-Year-Old Reaches North PoleEver struggle to achieve a goal?
I'm about to remove your excuses -forever.
Raymond Aaron, at the age of 62, heard about a crazy thing called the Polar Race.
This is a race where a handful of extreme athletes travel 350 miles across arctic ice-fields to reach the Magnetic North Pole.
Using only skis and sleds. Under their own power. No motors. No kidding.
And Raymond did what many don't ever do - he finished the race. Alive.
So what's your excuse for not achieving your goals?
Raymond pushed himself beyond human limits - and did something well beyond the abilities of most people half his age.
"The Polar Race is by far the toughest thing I've ever done," says Raymond. "I would never do it again."
Then he smiles. "But I highly recommend doing it once."
So how tough was it, really?
Raymond spent April in the Arctic, racing to the Pole with competitors half his age, pulling a 100-pound sled, skiing the equivalent of a marathon every day.
He lost a pound of body weight every day.
At times, he thought he might die.
At times, he wanted to quit.
But quitting the Polar Race is not an option. If you want to live, you keep moving.
Raymond endured the hardships of the subzero temperatures, fields of ice rubble, and dragging that hundred pound sled behind him. He suffered frostbite on his face.
One night, Raymond lay in his sleeping bag listening to a polar bear rummage around his campsite.
The coldest day of the race came just four days into the three-week ordeal. The race teams forced themselves to move through a bone shattering -68°day.
"It's hard to describe because it's so shocking. Cold wind instantly freezes you. It's just so frightening." Says Raymond.
While it was the most difficult thing Raymond had ever done, it also turned out to be the most rewarding.
Completing the race was a triumph few people will ever know.
"I learned that I could go beyond what I thought were my limits," says Raymond. "We are capable of much more than we believe we are capable of."
Fitting, because Raymond's job back in the "everyday world" is teaching people how to achieve their life's goals.
"Anyone can do just about anything they set their mind to," Raymond says. "And I'm living proof."
Raymond offers a free video course on how to set and achieve your goals.
He has a totally unique spin on this subject: "There is a way to write your goals so that you always achieve them, every single time," Raymond says.
Every time?
"Really," he smiles. "Every time. It's almost like the goals achieve themselves. It's quite elegant."

Best Day of my Life (Day 4)

Many thoughts cross your mind one hour before the beginning of an Ironman Triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run). Can I finish? Was my training plan sound? Did I do everything I possibly could to prepare myself for the day? What if I get a flat tire on the bike? What is my nutrition plan for the bike and run? Self doubt is natural.
As I rode down the hotel elevator one hour before the beginning of Ironman Wisconsin, I overheard the following conversation between strangers:
Stranger 1 - "Good morning. How are you?"
Stranger 2 - "Best day of my life."
Stranger 1 -
Stranger 2 - "Young man, make this the best day of your life."
These simple 5 words from an anonymous stranger stayed with me for the next 11 hours 37 minutes and 12 seconds to the finish line. They were spoken without hesitation or rehearsal. They were spoken with wisdom, passion, and gratefulness. Ironman Triathlons have a way of magnifying yet simplifying life. There are only so many things in life you can control. You are 100% in control of your attitude. Your daily 'self talk' can be negative or positive. The choice is yours.
Stranger 2 turned out to be Frank Farrar, the former Governor of South Dakota and 79 year old Ironman Triathlete. Frank has competed in over 30 Ironman distance Triathlons and continues to compete. Thank you Frank for these words!
Steve Muller

An Inspiational Man (Day 3)

We all need our lives put into perspective, and I had an eye opener today! I’ll call this guy Jimmy just to protect his identity, small world maybe one of you may know him. I see Jimmy maybe once or twice a week, usually in passing and we have a little small talk about work or the weather. My first option was this is a friendly guy that makes friends easily, very outgoing!

Today we had an opportunity to chat for about a half an hour, and did I respect him even more after we parted. I really don’t know how we got on the topic but he told me how his mom and dad had drinking problems and he never felt love or compassion in their presence. Typical to this environment Jimmy left home and lived on the street from age 16 to 21. The drinking and drugs that consumed his life brought him to deaths door on several occasions. One story he told me was when woke in the hospital and asked the nurse how he got there. The nurse told him the snowplow operator found him in a snow back near death and brought him in. This was one of several stories Jimmy told with passion and a little pride for the fact that he survived these younger years. He didn’t carry an air of cockiness but a sincere tone.

At 50 Jimmy can not read or write and did not hesitate to tell me this point, he said he used to be ashamed of this fact but with a learning disability he accepts his fate. Today he has a great job making a higher the n average income and enjoys life to the fullest.

He then tells me of the struggles he has had with his ex-wife, and how difficult it was to leave his 10 year old son. His son now 22 struggled also with drugs and alcohol, until he found God and is presently 120 days free and dry.

Jimmy’s perspective of his life, past present and future, is outstanding for a man that has lived his life. If I had not been told he could not read or write I would have guessed he had read all the same books as I had, for his insight and wisdom was one of a well read individual. The truth is life has taught this man all the lesson he has learned not books or lectures. I feel if given the right form Jimmy could play a pivotal role in assisting other to change their direction in life and move in a positive direction.

This man is a true inspiration.

Shawn Murphy

Putting Thoughts to Print Assists(Still Day2)

Just sitting here at 10:30pm trying to figure out how I can become a stronger leader to those looking for assistance with life’s journey. I think I just answered my biggest question. Is this an AAHH moment, I think so. O.K where do I go from here?

This is day 2 and I am seeing the light already, I think I just continue doing what I started and everything will fall into place. It still blows my mind when I discover the power and insight that you discover when you put your thoughts to print.

My advice to readers…..”PUT THOUGHTS TO PRINT “, you see things more clearly and starts you moving in the direction you are searching for. Hey not only does this page hopefully help others grow and develop, but I believe it helps me push forward also, so from me to you……..Thanks folks.

Millionair Secrets (Day 2)

21 Secrets of Millionaires

1. Dream Big, and then dream bigger. Visualize your dreams.
2. Clear sense of direction. Write down your goals.
3. See yourself as self employed.
4. Do what you love to do.
5. Commit to excellence. (Best in your field)
6. Develop a workaholic mentality.
7. Lifelong learning.
8. Pay yourself first. 10%
9. Learn all details of your business.
10. Dedicate yourself to serving others.
11. Be honest.
12. Concentrate on one thing at a time.
13. Develop speed and accuracy.
14. Be prepared to climb from peak to peak.
15. Practice self discipline.
16. Unlock your inboard creativity.
17. Be around the right people.
18. Take excellent care of your health.
19. Be decisive and action oriented.
20. NEVER consider failure.
21. Develop persistence and determination.

This was a study of thousands of Millionares and their common trates. Take note.