Quote of the Day

"I do not have superior intelligence or faultless looks. I do not captivate a room or run a mile under six minutes. I only succeeded because I was still working after everyone else went to sleep."

Greg Evans
Novelist

What's Prettier Than Freckles? (Day 99)

An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, spent the day at the zoo. Lots of children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.

"You've got so many freckles, there's no place to paint!" a girl in the line said to the little fellow.

Embarrassed, the little boy dropped his head. His grandmother knelt down next to him. "I love your freckles. When I was a little girl I always wanted freckles," she said, while tracing her finger across the child's cheek. "Freckles are beautiful."

The boy looked up, "Really?"

"Of course," said the grandmother. "Why just name me one thing that's prettier than freckles."

The little boy thought for a moment, peered intensely into his grandma's face, and softly whispered, "Wrinkles."

The Quote of the Day!

"Even though you may want to move forward in your life, you may have one foot on the brakes. In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Release the fear. Refuse to entertain your old pain. The energy it takes to hang onto the past is holding you back from a new life. What is it you would let go of today?"

Mary Manin Morrissey

The Pickle Jar (Day 98)

The pickle jar, as far back as I can remember, sat beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. As they were dropped into the jar, they landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty.

Then, the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar filled. I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back." Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly and say, "These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me."

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate; Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again." He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. "You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to that."

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town.

Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My Dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.

When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my Dad had loved me. No matter how rough things got a home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening, "you'll never have to eat beans again, unless you want to."

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. "She probably needs to be changed," she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her.

When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. "Look," she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar.

Then I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak, but we knew nothing had to be said.


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This truly touched my heart... and I know it has yours as well.
Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.

"Sorry looks back. Worry looks around. Faith looks UP!" --

Unknown

Quote of the day!

"What is the difference between an obstacle and an opportunity? Our attitude toward it. Every opportunity has a difficulty, and every difficulty has an opportunity."

J. Sidlow Baxter
1903-1999, Author and Theologian

Hear the Music (Day 97)

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word "refrigeration" mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched 'Jeopardy' on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, "How about going to lunch in a half hour?" She would gas up and stammer, "I can't. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain." And my personal favorite: "It's Monday." She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches... We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!

We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Stevie toilet-trained. We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of "I'm going to," "I plan on," and "Someday, when things are settled down a bit."

When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.

Now... go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to do... not something on your ‘SHOULD DO’ list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask "How are you?" Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, "We'll do it tomorrow." And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say "Hi"?

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift... Thrown away... Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.

Quote of the Day!

"The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us."

Francois-Marie Arouet, better know as Voltaire
1694-1778, Writer, Essayist, and Philosopher

Pinewood Derby (Day 96)

My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad".

That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed. Finally, mom stepped in to see if she could figure this all out. The project began.

Having no carpentry skills,I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do. Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom). Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids' cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning", the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own.

Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby car in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race. Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed.

A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility, Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom".

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old asked if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped.

Gilbert went to his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with his Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, 'Okay, I am ready."

As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car. Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank You" as the crowd roared in approval.

The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?" To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I wouldn't cry when I lost."

---------------

Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the outcome. Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome. When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a father's help!" No, Gilbert went to his Heavenly Father for strength.

Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, or too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get us through the struggle.

"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:13.

Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win, thus hurt someone else, he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity. Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to his Father also showed the crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad", but he also went away a winner that night, with his Father at his side.

May we all learn to pray this way.

Quote of the Day!

"Success means having the courage, the determination, and the will to become the person you believe you were meant to be."

George Sheehan
1918-1993, Physician and Author

The Storm (Day 95)

After a few of the usual Sunday evening hymns, the church's Pastor slowly stood up, walked over to the pulpit and, before he gave his sermon for the evening, briefly introduced a guest Minister who was in the service that evening. In the introduction, the Pastor told the congregation that the guest Minister was one of his dearest childhood friends and that he wanted him to have a few moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate for the service. With that, the elderly gentleman stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.

"A father, and his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the Pacific coast," he began... "when a fast storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright and the three were swept into the ocean as the boat capsized."

The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat interested in his story. The aged minister continued with his story...

"Grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life: to which boy would he throw the end of the life line? He had only seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves.

As the father yelled out 'I Love You, Son!' he threw out the life line to his son's friend. By the time the father had pulled the friend back to the capsized boat his son had disappeared beneath the raging swells into the black night. His body was never recovered," the old man said sadly.

By this time, the two teenagers were sitting up straight in the pew, anxiously waiting for the next words to come out of the old Minister's mouth.

"The father," he continued, "knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus and he could not bear the thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he sacrificed is son to save the son's friend. How great is the love of God that he should do the same for us? Our Heavenly Father sacrificed His only begotten Son so that we could be saved. I urge you to accept His offer to rescue you and take hold of the life line He is throwing out to you in this service."

With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the room. The Pastor again walked slowly to the pulpit and delivered a brief sermon with an invitation at the end. However, no one responded to the appeal. But, within moments after the service ended, the two boys were at the old man's side.

"That was a nice story," politely stated one of the boys, "but, I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his only son's life in hopes that the other would become a Christian."

"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing down at his worn Bible. As a big smile broadened his narrow face, he looked up again at the boys and said, "It sure isn't very realistic, is it? But, I'm here today to tell you this story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to give up His only Son for me. You see... I was that father, and your Pastor is my son's friend."

Quote of the Day!

"The best job goes to the person who can get it done without passing the buck or coming back with excuses."

Napoleon Hill
1883-1970, Author of Think and Grow Rich

Click here for our printable version

How Much is a Miracle? (Day 94)

Tess was a precocious eight year old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor bills and their house.

Only a very costly surgery could save Andrew now and it was looking like there was no one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all of the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was to busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about MY brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick... and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" asked the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew, and he has something bad growing inside of his head, and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But, my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money."

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents -- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge. And it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

"That surgery," her Mom whispered, "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents... plus the faith of a little child.

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A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.

Quote of the Day!

"I think I began learning long ago that those who are happiest are those who do the most for others."

Booker T. Washington
1856-1915, Educator and Author

When You Thought i Was Not Looking (Day 94)

"When you thought I wasn't looking...

I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I immediately wanted to paint another one.

I saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.

I saw you make my favorite cake for me and I learned that little things can be the special things in life.

I heard you say a prayer, and I knew there is a God I could always talk to and I learned to trust in God.

I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other.

I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don't.

I felt you kiss me good night and I felt loved and safe.

I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.

I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good, and I learned that I would have to be responsible when I grow up.

I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but its all right to cry.

I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything I could be.

I watched you, and I learned most of life's lessons I need to know to be a good and productive person when I grow up.

I looked at you and wanted to say, 'Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking.'"

Quote of the Day!

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them."

John F. Kennedy
1917-1963, 35th President of the United States

He's My Brother(Day 93)

Like the Christmas before, we didn't send Christmas cards; we called my family in Canada. Ginny and I talked to my mom. We spoke to my uncles and aunts. I haven't seen any of them in seven years and Ginny hasn't met them yet at all, but she knows they are family and hopes to meet them one day.

The calls were completed, but I couldn't relax. There was one call I needed to make, I was afraid to. I paced the house. I sat at my computer and wasted time. I needed to call. I couldn't. I should. I couldn't. I was in turmoil.

Five years before, I received an email from my brother. At the time, I had been out of work for several months. Stress ruled my life. The email from my brother was nothing terrible, but it made me angry.

I wrote back. As I typed, my anger grew. Months of frustration flowed into my nasty response. I said things that were not nice, but I hit send anyway. More thoughts occurred to me. I wrote a second nast y email. My fingers hammered the keys as I typed. I basically told my brother to go to hell. I could care less if I ever heard from him again.

The next day I received an email from him. I didn't read it. I just deleted it and then blocked his email address, so I could not receive anything from him.

In the last five years, I know he has tried to get through to me, but I ignored him.

For five years I have lived with this terrible guilt. I thought about contacting him, but was ashamed of myself for what I'd said.

Now was the time.

I picked up the phone and stepped outside. I wanted privacy. Ginny didn't know I was calling my brother. I took a deep breath, blew out a cloud of steam into the cold December air, and dialed his number. Even after five years, I still knew it by heart. A phone rang 3700 miles away in Nova Scotia.

There was no answer. I left a message. "Bob, it's Mike." I paused to take another breath. My hand holding the phone shook. "Bob, I guess I'll start by saying I'm sorry. I said some things I regret. I want to wish you and Delores (Bob's wife) a merry Christmas and hope all is well with you. I realize you may not want to talk to me, but I thought I would try. I want to make it right again. If you want to talk." I left my number.

I walked back into the house and looked at Ginny. "I did it."

She looked puzzled. "You did what?"

"I called Bob."

"Oh, Honey!" She walked to me and put her arms around my neck. "I'm glad. You needed to do it. It's family, Mike, and it's been too long." She kissed me. "You did right, Hun."

The days passed. Christmas came and went. I waited for the call that never came. I prayed for his forgiveness. The phone never rang. Then a week after I called, I received an email. My brother left me a message on my Facebook page. He said he listened to my voice message over-and-over and knew I was sincere. Over the last few weeks, we have been emailing and healing.

Why did I let five years of my brother's life slip through my fingers? Why was I too proud to call and say I was sorry?

If I had the answers, it would never have happened in the first place, but I know I don't want it to happen again.

I wrecked my relationship with my brother. Like a jigsaw puzzle that has been dropped, the pieces are scattered everywhere. It's time to gather them up and try to put it back together. It will take time, but I hope each piece I put back will gain a little more of my brother's trust.

I swallowed my pride. I did it. Five years is too long. He's my brother.

Many people have family problems like I did. Please don't hold a grudge. Don't be the fool I was. Fix it before it is too late.

Michael T. Smith

Quote of the Day!

"My mother drew a distinction between achievement and success. She said that achievement is the knowledge that you have studied and worked hard and done the best that is in you. Success is being praised by others. That is nice but not as important or satisfying. Always aim for achievement - success will follow."

Helen Hayes
1900-1993, Award Winning Actress

Scars of Love (Day 92)

Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.

He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore. His mother in the house was looking out the window saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could. Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard er screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

The newspaper reporter, who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn't let go."

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. Not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle. He's been there holding on to you.

The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.

Never judge another person's scars, because you don't know how they were made.

Quote of the day!

"You don't get to choose how you're going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you're going to live. Now."

Joan Baez
Singer, Songwriter and Activist

Harsh Words (Day 91)

I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" was my reply.
He said, "Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way saying good-bye.
But at home a difference is told,
how we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
As I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.

He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the children you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
and you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."

By this time, I felt very small,
and now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said. "
Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway."
I said, "Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."


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Are you aware that if we died tomorrow, the company that we are working for would easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than into our own families... an unwise investment indeed, don't you think?

So, what's behind the story? What did the poem mean?
What are you going to do differently with YOUR FAMILY?

Quoe of the Day!

"People of character do the right thing, not because they think it will change the world but because they refuse to be changed by the world."

Michael Josephson
Radio Commentator

1000 Marbles (Day 90)

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

I'm a Ham radio operator and spend some time working with radios and electronics. So when I heard this story it really made me think! I hope that you will find some application in your own life as well...

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the basement shack with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it.

I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whoever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles."

I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say. "Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital."

He continued, "Let me tell you something Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of "a thousand marbles."

"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years."

"Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900 which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now stick with me Tom, I'm getting to the important part."

"It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy."

"So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to roundup 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear. Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away."

"I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight."

"Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast.

This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time."

"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band. 75 year Old Man, this is K9NZQ, clear and going QRT, good morning!"

You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.

"C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."

"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids.
Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles."

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND... and may ALL of your Saturdays be special!

-----

Copyright, 1999, Jeffrey Davis

Quote of the Day!

"Life is too short to waste. Dreams are fulfilled only through action, not through endless planning to take action."

David J. Schwartz
Trainer and Author

Wealth, Success and Love (Day 89)

A woman came out of her house and saw three old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them.

Then she said, "I don't think I know you, but you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat."

"Is the man of the house home?", they asked.
"No," she said. "He's out."
"Then we cannot come in," they replied.

In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.
So, he said, "Go tell them I'm home, and invite them in!"

The woman went out and invited the men in.
"We do not go into a house together," they replied.
"Why is that?" she wanted to know.
One of the old men explained. "His name is Wealth," he said pointing to one of his friends, and pointing to another one he said, "This man is Success, and I am Love." Then he added, "Now, go and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home."

The woman went in and told her husband what was said.
Her husband was over-joyed. "How nice!" he said. "Since that's the case, let us invite in Wealth. Let him come in and fill our home with wealth!"

His wife disagreed. "Why don't we invite Success?"
But, their daughter was listening from the corner of the room. She jumped in with her own suggestion. "Wouldn't it be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!"

The wife agreed. "Then, let us heed our daughter's advice," said the husband to his wife. "Go out and invite Love in to be our guest."

The woman went out and asked the three old men, "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest." Love got up and started walking toward the house. Then the other two also got up and followed him.

Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success, "I only invited in Love, as you directed. Why are you all coming in?"

The old men replied together, "If you had invited only Wealth or Success, the other two of us would have stayed. However, since you invited Love... wherever He goes, we go with him... because wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!"

Quote of the Day!

"Don't be afraid to give your best to what seemingly are small jobs. Every time you conquer one it makes you that much stronger. If you do the little jobs well, the big ones tend to take care of themselves."

Dale Carnegie
1888-1955, Writer and Speaker

Taking Control (88)

Approximately 10 years ago, on a freezing July night, the cold, hard, truth hit me like a freight train.

NO ONE WAS COMING TO MY RESCUE.

On our bedroom floor, my wife was giving birth to our son, he'd come so quickly that we had just called the hospital to tell them we were on our way. But we never made it out of the house.

The complication was he was breech, and when he had come out to his shoulders, the contractions stopped and he stopped coming. My wife and I stayed calm, but for all my trying I just could not get his head out.

While this was happening my sister had called an ambulance, but we were stuck in this position for about 15 minutes before they arrived and were able to fully deliver him.

What I didn't realise was that the umbilical cord was obstructed and our baby was suffering asphyxiation. When he was finally born our boy was blue, and his heart rate was 40 beats per minute when it should have been 140 beats per minute.

As the paramedics worked on our son, pumping oxygen into his lungs, with a hand pump, I went outside to talk to God.

I'd been studying faith at a local church for a while, and had achieved some small successes. One of the scriptures that has always impressed on me the most was Mark 11:24 "Whosoever shall say unto this mountain, be though removed and be though cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he says shall come to pass. He shall have whatsoever he says."

This scripture told me I had to take responsibility in the situation, and not wait for something to happen, but make something happen.

I felt strength flow through me as I reminded God what this scripture said. I told God that I was not going to ask for anything but that I was going to take control of the situation.

I had a strong belief that parents are supposed to protect their children, not just naturally but spiritually as well.

I also could not accept the idea that a child would be born just to die ten minutes later.

After my conversation with God I felt fearless and determined. When I went back into the house the main paramedic pulled me aside and asked me if he could have a word with me. With a grim look on his face and a professional tone in his voice he told me, "I don't think the little blokes gonna make it."

This was a defining moment, I refused to become afraid and accept his opinion!

Looking directly into his eyes I replied "No he is going to be fine." I know I must have had a look that said I meant business, because the paramedic backed off immediately with a quick reply "Yer Okay".

It's amazing how quickly people will change their mind and come into agreement with you when you are clear and absolute about something.

Upon entering the hospital I repeated with conviction "No he's going to make it, He's gonna be just fine," to any one that spoke to me.

As I stood back and watched Doctors and Nurses buzzing around my son in a hive of activity, things became surreal.

A smiling woman in a white coat approached, "You know when they called in, I thought they'd be bringing in a dead baby, but it's a miracle, they've done a great job, he's looking good."

Of course our baby did survive.

But the next day he was placed in intensive care. At a meeting with the head of intensive care, the Doctor explained to us that our baby was "fitting" and this was most likely because he would have suffered brain damage and organ damage due to the lack of oxygen he received during birth. At this point, once again I reassured the Doctor, "No, don't worry, he's going to be just fine." Because of what we had just been through, I thought there's no way I'm going to start backing off now.

About this time we were interviewed by the hospital psychologist, to see how we were handling the fact our baby would be severely handicapped. After the meeting my wife sneaked a peek at the psychologist's clipboard and notes. Among other things, my wife noticed the statement "This couple is not prepared for failure." It was not written as a positive statement, but I found it incredibly empowering.

The ward is divided intoten sections. Sectionone for the sickest babies and our son was in this section. Some babies are in sectionone for months and some never get well. However, withintwo days our son was in sectionthree and inthree days he was in section nine. Within anotherthree days we were taking him home in absolutely perfect condition.

Since that time I have pushed myself to learn as much as possible about this incredible power that saved my son's life.

What I have learnt I have applied to many different areas of my life, I have used this power to transform my near bankrupt, failing business into a thriving prosperous company that has allowed me an income that has totally changed my lifestyle.

I have seen this power make cancer and arthritis completely disappear from people's bodies.

I have seen it transform children with learning difficulties and sleeping problems into peaceful intelligent, happy kids.

I have seen it do many incredible, wonderful things in relationships, and every area of life. I believe this power controls the world, and I believe it exists for the benefit of mankind.

I truly believe it's the answer to every obstacle we face.

"And you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free." John8:32

Shayne Hammond

Quote of the Day!

"Whenever you're facing any form of resistance, gratitude has the power to quickly dissolve it. This is true whether the hindrance comes from inside of you or outside of you."

Peggy McColl
Author of Relax Your Way to Wealth

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (Day 87)

A guy named Bob May, depressed and brokenhearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling December night. His 4-year-old daughter, Barbara, sat on his lap quietly sobbing. Bobs wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer. Little Barbara couldn't understand why her mommy could never come home. Barbara looked up into her dads eyes and asked, "Why isn't Mommy just like everybody else's Mommy?" Bob's jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears. Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger. It had been the story of Bob's life. Life always had to be different for Bob. Being small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys. He was too little at the time to compete in sports. He was often called names he'd rather not remember.


From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in. Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn's bout with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in the Chicago slums. Evelyn died just days before Christmas in 1938. Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he couldn't even afford to buy a Christmas gift. But if he couldn't buy a gift, he was determined a make one - a storybook!


Bob had created an animal character in his own mind and told the animal's story to little Barbara to give her comfort and hope. Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling. Who was the character? What was the story all about? The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form. The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was. The name of the character? A little reindeer named Rudolph, with a big shiny nose.


Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on Christmas Day. But the story doesn't end there. The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. Wards went on to print Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and distribute it to children visiting Santa Claus in their stores. By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase the rights from Wards to print an updated version of the book. In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights back to Bob May. The book became a best seller. Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter.


But the story doesn't end there either. Bob's brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore, it was recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry. "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of "White Christmas." The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning to bless him again and again. And Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn't so bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing!

Quote of the Day!

"The secret of getting ahead is getting started."

Agatha Christie
1890-1976, Novel

Relax Your Way to Results (Day 86)

Earlier this year my husband Denis and I went out for a lovely dinner at a nearby restaurant. While we were dining, an inspired idea popped into my head. I tend to pay attention to inspired ideas as they come up and I decided to share this one with Denis.


I said "Honey, I'm thinking of selling the house I bought in Florida, what do you think?"


Well, knowing the real estate market was declining and sales were infrequent, he thought I had temporarily lost my mind. I continued to share with him some reasoning behind the inspired idea.


The house in Florida was one that we rarely used. The insurance company wouldn't insure the contents because we did not reside in the home. It can be a challenge taking care of a place when we live 1,600 miles away.


Denis agreed with all of those points. Plus, even though I bought the house and owned it outright, the monthly expenses were an unnecessary expense. We were not using the house as a rental property, nor did I want to. We simply had the home available in the event we decided to take a trip to a warmer climate.


Initially when I bought the house I thought we would be using the house more, but with my busy travel schedule, speaking engagements, conferences, etc. we rarely stayed in the home.


Later that evening, after returning home from the restaurant I called a Real Estate Agent in Florida. I asked, "Steve, how is the real estate market down there?"


He replied "Don't you get the news up there Peggy? It's terrible!"


"Well Steve, I'd like to sell my house. Are you interested in listing it for me?"


He responded: "How much are you thinking of selling it for?"


I gave Steve the price I had in mind and he said the house would be the most expensive house on the street. I wasn't really concerned with having a premium-listing price because the house was a unique home and it was beautifully decorated.


Steve was willing to list the house. He drafted up the appropriate papers and sent them to me via email. I signed the papers, sent them back, and a "For Sale" sign went on the lawn.


Because I teach and practice the law of attraction and believe it is far more effective to relax our way to wealth or relax our way to anything that we desire, I relaxed and gave thanks for the quick sale of my home.


In my gratitude journal I expressed my elation with the quick sale of the home and for a closing price that was very close to my listing price. I was also grateful for the quick closing that the new owner requested.


Every day I wrote in my gratitude journal expressing my gratitude for the sale. I also listened to my own relaxation audio meditation every evening, which allowed me to stay connected to the powerful emotions of gratitude, joy and faith.


Two weeks later my Real Estate Agent called me with the news that we had an interested buyer. He said: "There is only one problem Peggy - she wants a fast close - she wants to take possession in three weeks, are you okay with that?"


Well, of course I was fine with a quick close. A quick close date was precisely what I gave thanks for. Additionally, she paid close to the listing price for the house, and within three weeks, my husband and I were on a flight to pick up a check for the sale of the house.


As much as we hear about the powerful laws of attraction, not everyone practices them. One of the challenges is that we are conditioned emotional beings. If our previous conditioning is to stress over things, we will literally push away the very things we desire by being stressed. Switching to a state of relaxation opens up our creativity, engages the law of attraction and draws to us that which you desire (ideas, people, events, experiences).


It may seem like a backward way of thinking to relax when you deeply want something, but relaxing our way to wealth is a powerful concept.


After I took action and listed the home, I gave thanks every day for the sale of the home and stayed connected to positive emotions. I relaxed and every morning and evening used my own relaxation guided meditation. It is an absolute truth that positive emotions will produce positive results.


Deepak Chopra said: "Relaxation is the prerequisite for that inner expansion that allows a person to express the source of inspiration and joy within."


If there is something you desire, follow these 3 simple steps. #1. Decide what you want. #2. Decide what it will "feel" like when you have it (which involves the emotions of faith and relaxation); and #3. Go straight to feeling those emotions - and practice them on a consistent basis. And, when you do, you'll be amazed at the power of your own creative ability.

Peggy McColl