Beggar lady, and the clown

The first time I saw the old lady at the tollbooth, I thought to myself she must be miserable. I paid her the $1.00 toll. Whereas most of the toll takers in New Hampshire are friendly, saying “Good Morning,” “Thank-you,” or “Have a nice day,” this lady gave nothing, not even a smile. She simply took my dollar.

I drove off, polluted by her negative energy, and spent the rest of the day trying to shake off her bad karma. The next day, having forgotten about The Mean One, I drove through that tollbooth again.  To my disappointment, there she was, again. This time, I gave her a 20 dollar bill and she actually sneered at me. I could see her talking to herself under her breath, “why do people give me 20 dollar bills, can’t these stupid people just give a dollar so I don’t have to make change?”

Commuting to and from work every day, I learned over time that she normally works on the north bound side during my evening drive, but doesn’t work every night.

A week or two went by without a single sighting, and then one evening, there she was. I made a quick mental note not to go through lane 2 in the future. In fact, I avoided lane 2 for quite some time, noticing that lane 1 always seemed to be busier than her lane.  I wondered, “Am I not the only one who despises and avoids her?”

Then one day it dawned on me. I was once a real bonafide clown.  I graduated from Clown College in 1982 and worked with several famous names in the circus. If anyone could make the old lady at the tollbooth smile, I could. So, I made it my mission.

I decided to go through her lane every night.  There she was, my captive audience. Instead of my being her victim, she was going to be a victim of my clowning skills. So, as I gave her my dollar bill, I slowed down enough, and I mustered up the biggest clown smile I could give her. She looked at me strangely.  Clearly, I had caught her off guard. The look on her face said, “who is this guy smiling at me and why?”

The following night, another big smile….and so it went on, without uttering a word. Finally she caught on. I was no longer a faceless commuter going through her booth, but a friendly face.  In time, she smiled back, said “hello,” and even asked me how I was. One time when she asked after me, I admitted to feeling grumpy and miserable. She smiled and with a gentle laugh she said “me too.”

Since I took matters into my own hands, I no longer despise my toll booth lady. Instead, we smile at each other and exchange pleasantries.  Maybe she just needed a friendly face….and I needed a reminder that I am a Clown.

Story shared by Craig Ruben.

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Don't Hope Friend... Decide

While waiting to pick up a friend at the airport in Portland, Oregon, I had one of those life changing experiences that you hear other people talk about, the kind that sneaks up on you unexpectedly.

This one occurred a mere two feet away from me. Straining to locate my friend among the passengers deplaning through the jet way, I noticed a man coming toward me carrying two light bags. He stopped right next to me to greet his family.

First he motioned to his youngest son (maybe six years old) as he laid down his bags. They gave each other a long, loving hug. As they separated enough to look in each other's face, I heard the father say, "It's so good to see you, son. I missed you so much!" His son smiled somewhat shyly, averted his eyes and replied softly, "Me, too, Dad!"

Then the man stood up, gazed in the eyes of his oldest son (maybe nine or ten) and while cupping his son's face in his hands said, "You're already quite the young man. I love you very much, Zach!" They too hugged a most loving, tender hug.

While this was happening, a baby girl (perhaps one or one-and-a-half) was squirming excitedly in her mother's arms, never once taking her little eyes off the wonderful sight of her returning father. The man said, "Hi, baby girl!" as he gently took the child from her mother. He quickly kissed her face all over and then held her close to his chest while rocking her from side to side. The little girl instantly relaxed and simply laid her head on his shoulder, motionless in pure contentment.

After several moments, he handed his daughter to his oldest son and declared, "I've saved the best for last," and proceeded to give his wife the longest, most passionate kiss I ever remember seeing. He gazed into her eyes for several seconds and then silently mouthed, "I love you so much!" They stared at each other's eyes, beaming big smiles at one another, while holding both hands. For an instant they reminded me of newlyweds, but I knew by the age of their kids that they couldn't possibly be.

I puzzled about it for a moment then realized how totally engrossed I was in the wonderful display of unconditional love not more than an arm's length away from me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if I was invading something sacred, but was amazed to hear my own voice nervously ask, "Wow! How long have you two been married?"

"Been together fourteen years total, married twelve of those," he replied, without breaking his gaze from his lovely wife's face.

"Well, then, how long have you been away?" I asked.

The man finally turned and looked at me, still beaming his joyous smile.

"Two whole days!"

Two days? I was stunned. By the intensity of the greeting, I had assumed he'd been gone for at least several weeks, if not months. I know my expression betrayed me, I said almost offhandedly, hoping to end my intrusion with some semblance of grace (and to get back to searching for my friend), "I hope my marriage is still that passionate after twelve years!"

The man suddenly stopped smiling. He looked me straight in the eye, and with forcefulness that burned right into my soul, he told me something that left me a different person. He told me, "Don't hope, friend...decide!"

Then he flashed me his wonderful smile again, shook my hand and said, "God bless!" With that, he and his family turned and strode away together. I was still watching that exceptional man and his special family walk just out of sight when my friend came up to me and asked, "What'cha looking at?"

Without hesitating, and with a curious sense of certainty, I replied, "My future!"

By Michael D. Hargrove

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The Best kind of love

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl. "I'm young again!" she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle) and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him - to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'd read it.

There is forgiveness. When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said,

"It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who'd had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, This is too much heartache for one week.

Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head. I'll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line "Grow old along with me!" We're following those instructions.

"If anything is real, the heart will make it plain."

--By Annette Paxman Bowen

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Hi Mom

A man calls his mother in Florida.

“Hey Mom, how are you?”

“Not too good,” says the mother. “I’ve been very weak.”

The son says, “Why are you so weak?!”

She says, “Because I haven’t eaten in 38 days.”

The man says, “That’s terrible! Why haven’t you eaten in 38 days?!"

The mother answers, “Because I didn’t want my mouth filled with food should my son finally call.”

Do you also need a reason, a special moment, or a day once an year, to keep in touch with someone special in your life?

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4 puppies and the little boy

A farmer had four puppies he needed to sell, so he painted a sign and started nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail in to the post, he felt a tug on his trouser, and saw a cute little boy standing next to him with a question in his eyes.

'Mister,' he said, 'I want to buy one of your puppies.'

'Well,' said the farmer,as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, 'These puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.'

The boy dropped his head for a moment.Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer.

'I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?'

'Sure,' said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. 'Here, Dolly!' he called. Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur.

The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring in side the doghouse.

Slowly another dog appeared, this one noticeably smaller, it slid in a somewhat awkward manner, the little pup began struggling toward the others doing its best to catch up.

'I want that one,' the little boy said, pointing to the runt. The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, 'Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would. He is handicapped.'

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and rolled up one leg of his trousers. He had a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said,

'You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands...'

With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully he handed it to the little boy.

'How much?'

'No charge,' the farmer choked while saying this, 'there's no charge for love!'

The world is full of people who need a special someone who understands. May you be that special someone to them.

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King's 3 wishes

A mighty king, after conquering many kingdoms, was returning home. On the way, he fell ill and it took him to his death bed. With death staring him in his face, he realized how his conquests, his great army, his sharp sword and all his wealth were of no consequence.

He now longed to reach home to see his mother's face and bid her his last adieu. But, he had to accept the fact that his sinking health would not permit Him to reach his distant homeland. So, the mighty conqueror lay prostrate and pale, helplessly waiting to breathe his last. He called his generals and said, "I will depart from this world soon, I have three wishes, please carry them out without fail." With tears flowing down their cheeks, the generals agreed to abide by their king's last wishes.

"My first desire is that," said Alexander, "my physicians alone must carry my coffin." After a pause, he continued, "Secondly, I desire that when my coffin is being carried to the grave, the path leading to the graveyard be strewn with gold, silver and precious stones which I have collected in my treasury"

The king felt exhausted after saying this. He took a minute's rest and continued. "My third and last wish is that both my hands be kept dangling out of my coffin." The people who had gathered there wondered at the king's strange wishes. But no one dare bring the question to their lips. The king's favorite general kissed his hand and pressed them to his heart. "O king, we assure you that your wishes will all be fulfilled. But tell us why do you make such strange wishes?"

At this, he took a deep breath and said: "I would like the world to know of the three lessons I have just learnt..."

"First, I want my physicians to carry my coffin because people should realize that no doctor can really cure any body. They are powerless and cannot save a person from the clutches of death. So let not people take life for granted.."

"The second wish of strewing gold, silver and other riches on the way to the graveyard is to tell People that not even a fraction of gold will come with me. I spent all my life earning riches but cannot take anything with me. Let people realize that it is a sheer waste of time to chase wealth."

"And about my third wish of having my hands dangling out of the coffin, I wish people to know that I came empty handed into this world and empty handed I go out of this world."

With these words, the king closed his eyes. Soon he let death conquer him and breathed his last.

Never take some one for granted. Hold every person close to your heart because you might wake up one day and realise that you have lost a diamond while you were too busy collecting stones.

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Why do people shout?

A saint asked his disciples, ? Why do people shout at each other when they are upset?'

Disciples thought for a while, one of them said, 'Because we lose our calm, we shout for that.'

'But, why to shout when the other person is just next to you?' asked the saint. 'Isn't it possible to speak to him or her with a soft voice? Why do you shout at a person when you're angry?'

Disciples gave some other answers but none satisfied the saint.

Finally he explained, 'When two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot. To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other through that great distance.'

Then the saint asked, 'What happens when two people fall in love? They don't shout at each other but talk softly, why? Because their hearts are very close. The distance between them is very small...'

The saint continued, 'When they love each other even more, what happens? They do not speak, only whisper and they get even closer to each other in their love. Finally they even need not whisper, they only look at each other and that's all. That is how close two people are when they love each other.'

When you argue do not let your hearts get distant, do not say words that distance each other.

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Those who love you

If anyone should hurt you and say a thing unkind,
Remember what I tell you, and keep these things in mind;
For every 1 who makes you cry, there are 3 who make you smile,
That smile will last a long, long time, and the tear a LITTLE while!

If someone says a thing that's cruel, don't let it get to you —
There's so much good about you, and your faults are very few;
Don't let someone who hates the world cause you to hate it too,
For behind the cloud's a golden sun and a sky that's bright and blue!

So if a certain someone should act a certain way ...
Just think of THOSE WHO LOVE YOU and don't let it ruin your day.

~ Author Unknown

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Wipers in the rain

One rainy afternoon I was driving along one of the main streets of town, taking those extra precautions necessary when the roads are wet and slick.

Suddenly, my daughter, Aspen, spoke up from her relaxed position in her seat. "Dad, I'm thinking of something."

This announcement usually meant she had been pondering some fact for a while, and was now ready to expound all that her six-year-old mind had discovered. I was eager to hear.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"The rain!" she began, "is like sin, and the windshield wipers are like God wiping our sins away." After the chill bumps raced up my arms I was able to respond. "That's really good, Aspen."

Then my curiosity broke in. How far would this little girl take this revelation? So I asked "Do you notice how the rainwater keeps on coming? What does that tell you?"

Aspen didn't hesitate one moment with her answer: "We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on forgiving us."

I will always remember this whenever I turn my wipers on.

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Passbook of love

Have you ever pondered upon those small moments of selfless love you've got from someone special throughout these years of your life?

Monica married Hitesh the other day. At the end of the wedding party, Monica's mother gave her a newly opened bank saving passbook with Rs.1000 deposit amount, and gave her a small instruction

'My dear, take this passbook. Keep it as a record of your married life. When there's something happy and memorable happened in your new life, put some money in. Write down what it's about next to the line. The more memorable the event is, the more money you can put in. I've done the first one for you today. Do the others with Hitesh. When you look back after years, you can know how much happiness you've had.'

Monica shared this with Hitesh when getting home. They both thought it was a great idea and were anxious to know when the second deposit can be made. This was what they did after certain time:

- 7 Feb: Rs.100, first birthday celebration for Hitesh after marriage
- 1 Mar: Rs.300, salary raise for Monica
- 20 Mar: Rs.200, vacation trip to Bali
- 15 Apr: Rs.2000, Monica got pregnant
- 1 Jun: Rs.1000, Hitesh got promoted
... and so on..

However, after years, they started fighting and arguing for trivial things. They didn't talk much. They regretted that they had married the most nasty people in the world... no more love... kind of typical nowadays, huh?

One day Monica talked to her Mother: 'Mom, we can't stand it anymore. We agree to divorce. I can't imagine how I decided to marry this guy!'

Mother nodded 'Sure, girl, that's no big deal. Just do whatever you want if you really can't stand it. But before that, do one thing first. Remember the saving passbook I gave you on your wedding day? Take out all money and spend it first. You shouldn't keep any record of such a poor marriage.'

Monica thought it was true. So she went to the bank, waiting at the queue and planning to cancel the account. While she was waiting, she took a look at the passbook record. She looked, and looked, and looked. Then the memory of all the previous joy and happiness just came up her mind. Her eyes were then filled with tears. She left and went home. When she was home, she handed the passbook to Hitesh, asked him to spend the money before getting divorce.

The next day, Hitesh gave the passbook back to Monica. She found a new deposit of Rs.5000. And a line next to the record: 'This is the day I noticed how much I've loved you through out all these years. How much happiness you've brought to me.'

They hugged and cried, putting the passbook back to the safe. Do you know how much money they had saved when they retired? Nobody knows. I believe the money did not matter any more after they had gone through all the good years in their life.

When you fall, in any way, don't see the place where you fell, Instead see the place from where you slipped.

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The Inspiring Race

Successful people help others who are slow in learning so that they are not felt far behind.

It was a sports stadium. Eight Children were standing on the track to participate in the running event.

* Ready! * Steady! * Bang!

With the sound of Toy pistol, all eight girls started running. Hardly have they covered ten to fifteen steps, one of the smaller girls slipped and fell down, due to bruises and pain she started crying.

When other seven girls heard this sound, stopped running, stood for a while and turned back, they all ran back to the place where the girl fell down. One among them bent, picked and kissed the girl gently and enquired 'Now pain must have reduced'.

All seven girls lifted the fallen girl, pacified her, two of them held the girl firmly and they all seven joined hands together and walked together and reached the winning post. Officials were shocked. Clapping of thousands of spectators filled the stadium. Many eyes were filled with tears!

Yes this is a true story. This happened in Hyderabad, India at a sport event conducted by National Institute of Mental Health. All these special girls had come to participate in this event and they are spastic children. Yes, they were mentally retarded, but only in the eyes of world.

And do you know what they taught to this very same world? Teamwork? Humanity? Equality?

I guess, all of it.

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The Park Bench

Life touches us in so many ways. If only we pay attention to its steps, like in this touching story...

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, with it's petals all worn, not enough rain, or to little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors, orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time that weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun as I thanked him for picking the very best one. You're welcome, he smiled, and then ran off to play, unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how he managed to see a self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see the problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose. And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

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Making the parrot talk

A woman bought a parrot to keep her company. She returned to the pet store the next day with a complaint: "This bird you sold me won't talk."

The pet store manager said, "Does he have a mirror in his cage? Parrots love mirrors. They see their reflection and they start up a conversation." So she bought a mirror and went home.

A couple of days later she was back. The bird still wasn't talking. "How about a ladder?" the manager asked. "A ladder will make your parrot happy, and a happy parrot is more likely to talk." She bought the ladder and left.

Two days later she returned. The bird still hadn't said anything. The store manager thought for a minute and said, "How about a swing? All parrots need a swing. A swing will loosen him up, and he'll be talking in no time." The woman reluctantly bought the swing and left.

She was back the next day, looking forlorn. "My parrot died," she said.

"That's terrible," the manager said. "Did he ever say a word?"

"Yes," the woman said, "Right before he died he said, 'Don't they sell any food at that pet store?"

Hope you're not doing the same with your loved ones. Whether at work, or at home, the food to survive is affection, genuine care, and lots of praise for good deeds. Don't let them stay deprived of it. Ever.

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Tell the world for me

Some 14 years ago, I stood watching my university students fill into the classroom for our opening session in the theology of faith. That was the day I first saw Tommy. He was combing his hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. My quick judgment wrote him off as strange - very strange.

Tommy turned out to be my biggest challenge. He constantly objected to, or smirked at the possibility of an unconditionally loving God. When he turned in his final exam at the end of the course, he asked in a slightly cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

"No," I said emphatically.

"Oh," he responded. "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the door and then called out. "I don't think you'll ever find him, but I am certain he will find you." Tommy shrugged and left. I felt slightly disappointed that he had missed my clever line.

Later I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was grateful for that. Then came a sad report: Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to me. When he walked into my office, his body was badly wasted, and his long hair had fallen out because of the chemotherapy. But, his eyes were bright and his voice, for the first time, was firm.

"Tommy! I've thought about you so often. I heard you were very sick," I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer. It's a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it?"

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

"What's it like to be only 24 and know that you're dying?"

"It could be worse," he told me, "like being 50 and thinking that drinking booze, seducing women and making money are the real 'biggies' in life." Then, he told me why he had come.

"It was something you said to me on the last day of class. I asked if you thought I would ever find God and you said no, which surprised me. Then you said, 'But, he will find you.' I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time."

"But, when the doctors removed a lump from my body and told me that it was malignant, I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging against the bronze doors of heaven. But, nothing happened. Well, one day I woke up, and instead of my desperate attempts to get some kind of message, I just quit. I decided I didn't really care about God, an afterlife, or anything like that."

"I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more important. I thought about you and something else you had said: 'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But, it would be almost equally sad to leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you loved them.'

So, I began with the hardest one...my Dad."

Tommy's father had been reading the newspaper when his son approached him.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean, it's really important."

The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that."

Tommy smiled at me as he recounted the moment. "The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then, my father did two things I couldn't remember him doing before. He cried and he hugged me. And then, we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning."

"It was easier with my mother and little brother," Tommy continued.

"They cried with me, and we hugged one another, and shared the thing we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry that I had waited so long. Here I was, in the shadow of death, and I was just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to."

"Then one day, I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me when I pleaded with him. Apparently he does things in his own way and at his own hour. The important thing is that you were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something much more universal than you realize. You are saying that the surest way to find God is not by making him a private possession or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love."

"Tommy," I added, "could I ask you a favor? Would you come to my theology-of-faith course and tell my students what you just told me?"

Though we scheduled a date, he never made it. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of humanity has ever seen, or the mind ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.

"I know, Tommy."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tommy. I'll tell them."

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Interview with God

What if, in one of those dark and deep moments of reflection, you get a chance to have a heart-to-heart talk with God himself? What would he have to say to your doubts, your fears, and those unresolved questions?

Here's the reply: Click to see

Enjoy the presentation.

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The Littlest Firefighter

The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But, she still wanted her son's dreams to come true. She took her son's hand and asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life? "

"Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true. "

Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six year old son a ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat- not a toy one, but one with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast."

Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van, and even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local news program.

Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible. One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition.

The chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital, extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window and 5 firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him. With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, "Chief, am I really a fireman now?" "Yes, Billy, you are a fireman now," the chief said.

With those words, Billy smiled and closed his eyes one last time. He passed away later that evening.

This is a true story, but names were changed to protect the family. "Billy" was the first child to be helped by the 'Make-A-Wish' Foundation, an organization that fulfills the wishes of children with life-threatening illness. The story is from 1981, and it was 'Make-A-Wish' that made the contact with the Phoenix Fire Department.

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Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.

When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was fine.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but to check on her, I asked her if she was alright. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked, lost somewhere, "I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled, took a pause, and said "Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken,dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. Someday, I too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face... just like my grandma's hands.

The photo shown above features the hands of the photographer's Grandmother, Mom, Sister, Niece and Great-Niece. Its titled 'The Five Generations of Women'. Wonderful, isn't it?

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True love

My husband is a software engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders.

Two years of courtship and now, five years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons of me loving him before, has now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness.

I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings. I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband is my complete opposite; his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love.

One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce.

"Why?" he asked, shocked.

"I am tired. There are no reasons for everything in the world!" I answered.

He kept silent the whole night, seemingly in deep thought. My feeling of disappointment only increased. Here was a man who was not able to even express his predicament, so what else could I expect from him?

And finally he asked me "What can I do to change your mind?"

Somebody said it right. It's hard to change a person's personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him.

Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered: "Here is the question. If you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind.

Let's say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death. Will you do it for me?"

He said: "I will give you your answer tomorrow."

My hopes just sank by listening to his response.

I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door, that goes...

"My dear, I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further..."

This first line was already breaking my heart. I continued reading.

"When you use the computer you always mess up the Software programs, and you cry in front of the screen. I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore the programs. You always leave the house keys behind, thus I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you.

You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city. I have to save my eyes to show you the way.

You always have the cramps whenever your 'good friend' approaches every month. I have to save my palms so that I can calm the cramps in your tummy.

You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom.

You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes. I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails and help to remove those annoying white hairs. So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand... and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the colour of the glow on your young face.

Thus, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do... I could not pick that flower yet, and die."

My tears fell on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting, and as I continue on reading,"Now, that you have finished reading my answer, and if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside bringing your favorite bread and fresh milk."

I rushed to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread... Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone.

That's life, and love. When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness. Love shows up in all forms; even in very small and cheeky forms. It has never been a model. It could be the dullest and most boring form. Flowers, and romantic moments are only used and appear on the surface of the relationship. Under all this, the pillar of true love stands - and that is life.

So what are you cribbing and complaining in life? Find the best in your parters, appreciate and acknowledge it - today, now.

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Perfect husband and wife

A man and his lovely girlfriend got married. It was a large celebration. All of their friends and family came to see the lovely ceremony. The bride was gorgeous in her white wedding gown and the groom was very dashing in his black tuxedo. Everyone could tell that the love they had for each other was true.

However, a few months later, the wife came to the husband with a very unique request.

"Dear, I read in a magazine, a while ago, about how we can strengthen our marriage.." she offered, "each of us will write a list of the things that we find a bit annoying with the other person. Then, we can talk about how we can fix them together and make our lives happier together."

The husband agreed.

So each of them went to a separate room in the house and thought of the things that annoyed them about the other. They thought about this question for the rest of the day and wrote down what they came up with. The next morning, at the breakfast table, they decided that they would go over their lists.

"I'll start," offered the wife.

She took out her list. It had many items on it, enough to fill 3 pages, in fact. As she started reading the list of the little annoyances, she noticed that tears were starting to appear in her husbands eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing" the husband replied, "keep reading your lists."

The wife continued to read until she had read all three pages to her husband. She neatly placed her list on the table and folded her hands over top of it.

"Now, you read your list and then we'll talk about the things on both of our lists" she said happily.

Quietly the husband placed his sheet before her.

"Honey," he started to speak "sorry but I don't have anything on my list. Really, I do think that you are perfect the way that you are. I don't want you to change anything for me. You are lovely and wonderful and I wouldn't want to try and change anything about you."

The wife couldn't stand her husband's watery-eyed gaze anymore. She turned her head, and wept. Touched by the honesty and her husband's unconditional love, which woman would not?

In life, there are enough times when we are disappointed, depressed and annoyed. We don't really have to go looking for them. We have a wonderful world that is full of beauty, light and promise. Why waste time in this world looking for the bad, disappointing or annoying when we can look around us, and see the wondrous things before us?

We are happiest when we see and praise the good and try our best to forget the bad. Nobody's perfect but we can find perfectness in them if we change the way we see them.

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True promise

"How long will you be poring over that newspaper? Will you come here right away and make your darling daughter eat her food?"

I tossed the paper away and rushed to the scene. My only daughter Sindu looked frightened. Tears were welling up in her eyes. In front of her was a bowl filled to its brim with Curd Rice.

Sindu is a nice child, quite intelligent for her age. She has just turned eight. She particularly detested Curd Rice.

My mother and my wife are orthodox and believe firmly in the 'cooling effects' of Curd Rice. I cleared my throat and picked up the bowl.

"Sindu, darling, why don't you take a few mouthful of this Curd Rice? Just for Dad's sake, dear. If you don't, your Mom will shout at me."

I could sense my wife's scowl behind my back. Sindu softened a bit and wiped her tears with the back of her hands. "OK, Dad. I will eat not just a few mouthfuls, but the whole lot of this. But, you should..." Sindu hesitated. "Dad, if I eat this entire Curd Rice, will you give me whatever I ask for?"

"Oh sure, darling."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

I covered the pink soft hand extended by my daughter with mine and clinched the deal.

"Ask Mom also to give a similar promise," my daughter insisted. My wife slapped her hand on Sindu's muttering "Promise," without any emotion.

Now I became a bit anxious. "Sindu, you shouldn't insist on getting a computer or any such expensive items. Dad does not have that kind of money right now. OK?"

"No, Dad. I do not want anything expensive."

Slowly and painfully, she finished eating the whole quantity. I was silently angry with my wife and my mother for forcing my child to eat something that she detested.

After the ordeal was through, Sindu came to me with her eyes wide with expectation. All of our attention was on her.

"Dad, I want to have my head shaved off this Sunday," was her demand!

"Atrocious!" shouted my wife, "a girl child having her head shaved off? Impossible!"

"Never in our family!" my mother rasped. "She has been watching too much of television. Our culture is getting totally spoiled with these TV programs!"

"Sindu, why don't you ask for something else? We will be sad seeing you with a clean-shaven head."

"No, Dad. I do not want anything else," Sindu said with finality.

"Please Sindu, why don't you try to understand our feelings?" I tried to plead with her.

"Dad, you saw how difficult it was for me to eat that Curd Rice," Sindu was in tears. "And you promised to grant me whatever I ask for. Now, you are going back on your words.
Was it not you who told me the story of King Harishchandra and its moral that we should honor our promises no matter what?"

It was time for me to call the shots. "Our promise must be kept."

"Are you out your mind?" chorused my mother and wife.

"No. If we go back on our promises, she will never learn to honor her own. Sindu, your wish will be fulfilled."

With her head clean-shaven, Sindu had a round-face, and her eyes looked big and beautiful.

On Monday morning, I dropped her at her school. It was a sight to watch my hairless Sindu walking towards her classroom. She turned around and waved.

I waved back with a smile. Just then, a boy alighted from a car, and shouted, "Sinduja, please wait for me!"

What struck me was the hairless head of that boy. "Maybe that is the `in' stuff," I thought.

"Sir, your daughter Sinduja is great indeed!" Without introducing herself, a lady got out of the car, and continued, "That boy who is walking along with your daughter is my son Harish. He is suffering from leukemia."

She paused to muffle her sobs. "Harish could not attend the school for the whole of the last month. He lost all of his hair due to the side effects of the chemotherapy. He refused to come back to school fearing the unintentional but cruel teasing of the schoolmates.

"Sinduja visited him last week and promised him that she will take care of the teasing issue. But I never imagined she would sacrifice her lovely hair for the sake of my son! Sir, you and your wife are blessed to have such a noble soul as your daughter."

I stood transfixed. And then, I wept.

"My little Angel, will you teach me what love is?"

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