Love Stories 3

7/30/2019 Love Stories 3

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Tommy was eleven and Sabrina soon would be.Every morning they would meet beside the big oak tree.In the summer, they would play together in the sun

And sit beneath the big oak tree when the day was done.

One time when they were talking of growing up some dayThey agreed they'd meet back there and maybe even stay.By the big oak tree they could build a little home

And they would be together and neither one would roam.

When Tommy was thirteen and Sabrina soon would be,They stood together one last time beside the big oak tree.Tommy had to leave for his family soon would move.He took his pocketknife and in the big oak made a groove.

The groove was Tommy's simple way of giving her his word.As he spoke so softly, this is what Sabrina heard:"On your eighteenth birthday, I'll return to our oak tree.Then we will be together forever--you and me."

City life was hectic and the years did quickly fly.Tommy never once forgot Sabrina's last good-bye.He had marked the calendar each year on her birthday.

Soon he'd see the big oak tree and, maybe, even stay.

He would hold Sabrina's hand; together they'd agreeTo stay beside each other--close to the big oak tree.Tommy headed for the tree one Sunday afternoon.It was her eighteenth birthday and he would see her soon.

When Tommy reached the tree, he found a written note.It was from Sabrina's mom, and here is what she wrote:"Sabrina cannot meet you; she won't be here today.In this envelope is what Sabrina has to say."

He opened up the letter and his hands began to shake.As he read Sabrina's words, his heart began to break."Tommy, dear, I know that you are standing by our tree.When you see a big oak tree, always think of me.


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"I won't be here to meet you; the Angels came my way.Nothing else would keep me from meeting you today.Look up in the sky, and you'll know that I can see

You standing there and waiting--beside our big oak tree."


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Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, forlaughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel andbrightly decorated packages. But mostly, Christmas is forlove. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student withwide-eyed innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks gave me awondrous gift one Christmas.

Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, abitter middle aged woman greatly annoyed with the burdenof caring for her dead sister's son. She never failed toremind young Mark, if it hadn't been for her generosity, hewould be a vagrant, homeless waif. Still, with all the scoldingand chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began stayingafter class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger,I later found) to help me straighten up the room. We did thisquietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoyingthe solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Markspoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small whenshe died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman, whoalways spent much time with him.

As Christmas drew near however, Mark failed to stay afterschool each day. I looked forward to his coming, and whenthe days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly fromthe room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and askedwhy he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how Ihad missed him, and his large gray eyes lit up eagerly as hereplied, "Did you really miss me?"

I explained how he had been my best helper. "I was making

you a surprise," he whispered confidentially. "It's forChristmas." With that, he became embarrassed and dashedfrom the room. He didn't stay after school any more afterthat.

Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Mark


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crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his handsconcealing something behind his back. "I have your

present," he said timidly when I looked up. "I hope you likeit." He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms

was a tiny wooden box.

"Its beautiful, Mark. Is there something in it?" I askedopening the top to look inside. "

"Oh you can't see what's in it," He replied, "and you can'ttouch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said itmakes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights, andsafe when you're all alone."

I gazed into the empty box. "What is it Mark," I asked gently,"that will make me feel so good?" "It's love," he whisperedsoftly, "and mother always said it's best when you give itaway." And he turned and quietly left the room.

So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of woodon the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiringfriends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them thatthere is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth and song, for good andwondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.


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She was not beautiful.Nothing about her was extraordinary.Nothing about her made her stand out in a crowd.She grew up in a family of six.

The eldest, she learnt responsibility at an early age.As she grew stronger, and brighter,She instilled a sort of light cheer to whomever she met.

She was not beautiful.But she made others feel beautiful about themselves.She meets a rebel boy who thinks he's all man.Befriending him, she teaches him how to read,

A little boost the man needed to go to college.

They became friends fast and she fell,Fast in love with her rugged, handsome student.The "man" then finds himself in a dilemmaHe soon found himself in love with a girl.

A girl so beautiful, she turned even the grouchiest men'shead.Her hair was a halo of light around her,Her eyes the bluest blue of ocean.

Like an angel he tells his tutorLike a beautiful angel.The girl swallows a lump at her throat

She was not beautifulShe did not possess the heart of the one she lovedBut she did not care.

As long as he was happy,She would be or so she tried to.

She helped him write the most beautiful letter to his angelAll the time envisioning that it was she herselfReceiving those very letters.

And so the girl helped him choose the right words,Buy the right gifts for his angelHis angel brought him much joy


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And much pain to the girl who cried behind her smiles.But that never stopped her from giving moreThan she will ever receive.

Then one day, all hell broke looseThe angel he loved left him for another man,A richer, more successful man.The boy was stunnedHe was so hurt he did not speak for daysThe girl went to himHe cried on her shoulder and she cried with himHe hurt and so did she.

Time went by.

And so the wounds heal.The boy realizes something about his friend/tutorHe never realized before.How her laughter sounded heavenlyOr how her smiles brightened up the darkest days.Or simply how beautiful, yes beautiful she looked to him!

Beautiful.This plain, simple girl was beautiful to him.

And he began to fall.Fall so in love with this beautiful girl.

On one day, he picked up all his courage to see her.He walked to her house, nervous ad fidgeting.Running his thoughts over and over in his head.He was going to tell her how beautiful she was to him.He was going to tell her how wonderfully n love he was withher.He knocked.No one was home.

The next day he found out,The beautiful girl he fell in love with had brain aneurysmThat put her into a coma.The doctors were grim and the family decided to let her go.


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One final time he got to see her.He held her hand.He stroked her hair,

And he cried for this beautiful girl.He cried for he will never see her smileOr hear her speak his name

He cried.But it was too late.

The beautiful girl was buried and the heavens broke outIn a beautiful spring shower, a cry for their loss.She was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Look around you.Aren't there a lot of plain faces?Take a good look

A real good look or you might miss outOn that beautiful person.Forever.


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Two young lovers, Walking on the sand,Gazing at each other, Talking hand in hand,The prints they leave behind them,Marking memories of the past,The long beach laid before them,Hoping love will last,The ocean captures the footprints,

And erases them from the shore,Taking with it remembrances,

And leaving them with more,

Many years have passed,Time flies when you're having fun,

And before you know it innocence fades,And the teen years are done,Now she's back on the beach,Except she is alone,Watching and waiting,For the love that hadn't grown,She walks along the ocean,Two footprints, not four,Wondering where the laughter went,

Why he didn't love her more,Then she stops to sit,And draws his name in the sand,A celestial stranger comes along,And reaches out a hand,Hesitantly she takes it,

And he listens to her cries,He's been there before,He's heard many lies,They decide to walk,

And she follows, not knowing why,

Love will always be reborn again,Even if it may die,She is more cautious than before,

And as she looks back at the footprints,


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She smiles seeing not two, but four,This time will be different,Her heart trying to say,Something magical happened,

She felt it the first day,Something clicked when they touched,A jolt from inside,She knew he'd be there always,If she had something to confide,

Now here it is twenty years later,And his love for her,Is now even greater,He looks at her like the first time they met,

And despite all the years gone by,They can never forget,Those four special footprints,That are never washed away,They'll stay forever on her heart,Until their dying day.


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The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper.Money was tight and he became infuriated when the childtried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.

Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father thenext morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy. He wasembarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flaredagain when he found the box was empty. He yelled at her,"Don't you know that when you give someone a present,there's supposed to be something inside it?"

The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and

said, "Oh, Daddy, it is not empty. I blew kisses into the box.All for you, Daddy." The father was crushed. He put his armsaround his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.

It is told that the man kept that gold box by his bed for yearsand whenever he was discouraged, he would take out animaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had

put it there.

In a very real sense, each of us as humans have been givena gold container filled with unconditional love and kissesfrom our children, friends, family or God. There is no more

precious possession anyone could hold.


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Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose.And every year her husband sent them, tied with prettybows.The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door.The card said, "Be my Valentine," like all the years before.

Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,"I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.""My love for you will always grow, with every passing year."She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.

She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away.

He always liked to do things early, way before the time.Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very specialvase.Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.She would sit for hours, in her husband's favorite chair.While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.

A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate.With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate.Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them inshock.Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop.The owner answered, and she asked him, if he wouldexplain,

Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?"I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago,"The owner said, "I knew you'd call, and you would want toknow."

"The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance."


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"Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing tochance.""There is a standing order, that I have on file down here,

And he has paid, well in advance, you'll get them every year.

There also is another thing, that I think you should know,He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago.""Then, should ever, I find out that he's no longer here,That's the card...that should be sent, to you the following

year."

She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears nowflowing hard.Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.

Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote...

"Hello my love, I know it's been a year since I've been gone,I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to overcome.""I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real.For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.

The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.

I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfectwife.""You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need.I know it's only been a year, but please try not to grieve.

I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears.That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.""When you get these roses, think of all the happiness,That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.I have always loved you and I know I always will.But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still."

"Please...try to find happiness, while living out your days.I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.The roses will come every year, and they will only stop,When your door's not answered, when the florist stops


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toknock."

"He will come five times that day, in case you have goneout.

But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,To take the roses to the place, where I've instructed him,And place the roses where we are, together once again."


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On my way home from coaching basketball yesterday, I waslistening to WGN; my favorite talk radio station out ofChicago. I could tell right away that there was somethingwrong by the somber mood of the speaker. There had beena plane crash. Two small planes collided into each other overa northern suburb of Chicago. What made the story hit closeto home was that Bob Collins, the morning show man forWGN, was the pilot of one of the planes and had been killed.(I'm sure that many readers have tuned in "Uncle Bobby" ontheir car radios in the Midwest.) Later that night, as I mademy 40 minute drive to my third shift job, I listened as thestation reminisced and paid tribute to a man who was lovedby many. They told story after story, describing him as the

ultimate friend, and a man who had lived life to the fullest.Genuine love and affection poured in from all over thecountry. The more I listened about how this man hadinfluenced those around him, the more discouraged Ibecame.

Why you ask?

I was discouraged because I wanted to know why we as a

culture, wait until somebody has passed away before we tellthem how much we love them? Why do we wait untilsomeone's ears can't hear before we let them how muchthey mean to us? Why do we wait until it is too late beforewe recall the good qualities of a person? Why do we buildsomeone up after they have gone into eternity? What gooddoes it do then! We share memory after memory, as welaugh, cry, and think back about what was positive in a

person's life. Yes, it does help us cope with the grief of losingsomeone that was special to us. And yes it does bring those

who are coping, closer together. But as we lovinglyremember this person, our words fall short of the ears thatmost needed to hear them.

Just once I would like to see a celebration of life, instead of agathering of death. A celebration where stories are told,


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eyes mist over, laughter rings out; and as the speakerconcludes his or her loving tribute, the person they arehonoring rises from their chair and gives them the biggestbear hug! Wouldn't that be something! The special person

gets to hear the stories and come to the realization that theyhave made a difference on this earth. And all this is donewell before they leave their earthly bodies and go intoeternity. And when the inevitable funeral finally comes, wecan say good bye with the knowledge that they knewexactly how people felt about them while they were here onearth.

I now have a stronger resolve to tell those around me howmuch they mean to me. I am going to let my wife know just

how loved and appreciated she is, not only by my words, butalso by my actions. I am going to play Batman with my four

year old more often, and in the middle of our romping, I amgoing to grab him, hug him tightly, and tell him how thankfulI am that he is my son. I am going to sneak into my sleepingtoddler's bedroom, place my lips on his chubby cheek, andthank God for the bundle of joy he has brought into my life.Each day I will make a point to tell both of my boys howmuch I love them, whether they are four or eighteen! From

there, I am going to let family and friends know thetremendous impact they have had on my life. And last butnot least, I am going to let the high school players I coachknow that I look forward to each and every minute that I getto spend with them in the gym.

Do you love someone? Then tell them! Has someone beenan influence in your life? Then give them a call! Hassomeone made a difference in your life? Then write them aletter or send them an email! Don't let another day go bywithout letting that person know. There is something specialabout a written letter that expresses feelings of love towardsanother. I don't know about you, but I have letters and cardsfrom people that I have saved for years, and from time totime, I get them out and reread them. They can turn adepressing day into one where you realize just how blessed


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and loved you are.

Life is too short to leave kind words unsaid. The words yousay, or the letter you write, might just make all the

difference in the world.


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Last night I had a dream. I dreamed I was walking along thebeach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from mylife. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in thesand: one belonged to me, the other to the Lord.

After the last scene of my life flashed before me, I lookedback at the footprints in the sand. I noticed that at manytimes along the path of my life, especially at the very lowestand saddest times, there was only one set of footprints.

This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it. Lord,you said once I decided to follow you, Youd walk with me allthe way. But I noticed that during the saddest and most

troublesome times of my life, there was only one set offootprints. I dont understand why, when I needed You themost, You would leave me.

The Lord replied, My son, my precious child, I love you and Iwould never leave you. During your times of suffering, when

you could see only one set of footprints, it was then that Icarried you.


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A friend of ours was walking down a deserted Mexican beachat sunset. As he walked along, he began to see another manin the distance. As he grew nearer, he noticed that the localnative kept leaning down, picking something up, andthrowing it out into the water. Time and again, he kepthurling something out into the ocean.

As our friend approached even closer, he noticed that theman was picking up starfish that had washed up on thebeach and, one at a time, was throwing them back into thewater.

Our friend was puzzled. He approached the man and said,

"Good evening, friend. I was wondering what you are doing?"

"I'm throwing these starfish back into the ocean. You see, itis low tide right now, and all of these starfish have washedup onto the shore. If I don't throw them back into the sea,they'll die from lack of oxygen."

"I understand," my friend replied, "but there must bethousands of starfish on this beach! You can't possibly get to

all of them. There are simply too many! And don't yourealize this is probably happening on hundreds of beachesall up and down this coast? Can't you see that you can't

possibly make a difference?"

The local native smiled, bent down, and picked up yetanother starfish and, as he threw it back into the sea,replied, "Made a difference to THAT one!"


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A store owner was tacking a sign above his door that read"Puppies For Sale." Signs like that have a way of attractingsmall children, and sure enough, a little boy appeared underthe store owner's sign. "How much are you going to sell the

puppies for?" he asked.

The store owner replied, "Anywhere from $30 to $50."

The little boy reached in his pocket and pulled out somechange. "I have $2.37," he said. "Can I please look at them?"

The store owner smiled and whistled and out of the kennel

came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his store followed byfive teeny, tiny balls of fur.

One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediatelythe little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy andsaid, "What's wrong with that little dog?"

The store owner explained that the veterinarian hadexamined the little puppy and had discovered it didn't have

a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame.

The little boy became excited. "That is the puppy that I wantto buy."

The store owner said, "No, you don't want to buy that littledog. If you really want him, I'll just give him to you."

The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into thestore owner's eyes, pointing his finger, and said, "I don't

want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bitas much as all the other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact,I'll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I havehim paid for."

The store owner countered, "You really don't want to buy


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this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jumpand play with you like the other puppies."

To his surprise, the little boy reached down and rolled up his

pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supportedby a big metal brace. He looked up at the store owner andsoftly replied, "Well, I don't run so well myself, and the little

puppy will need someone who understands!"

We ALL need someone who understands!


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One day a teacher asked her students to list the names ofthe other students in the room on two sheets of paper,leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they couldsay about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish theirassignment, and as the students left the room, each onehanded in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of eachstudent on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what

everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Beforelong, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heardwhispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!"and, "I didn't know others liked me so much," were most ofthe comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She

never knew if they discussed them after class or with theirparents, but it didn't matter.

The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The studentswere happy with themselves and one another.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, one ofthe students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attendedthe funeral of that special student.

She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before.He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one thosewho loved him took a last walk by the coffin.


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The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin. As shestood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearercame up to her.

"Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded:"yes." Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot."

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates wenttogether to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father werethere, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

"We want to show you something," his father said, taking awallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when hewas killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn piecesof notebook paper that had obviously been taped, foldedand refolded many times.

The teacher knew without looking that the papers were theones on which she had listed all the good things each ofMark's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "Asyou can see, Mark treasured it."

All of Mark's former class mates started to gather around.

Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have mylist. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."

Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in ourwedding album."

"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook,took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list tothe group. "I carry this with me at all times, " Vicki said and


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without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we allsaved our lists."

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried.

She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would neversee him again.


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I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recentlycompleted my college degree. The last class I had to takewas Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with thequalities that I wish every human being had been gracedwith. Her last project of the term was called "Smile". Theclass was asked to go out and smile at three people anddocument their reaction.

I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyoneand say hello anyway.....so, I thought, this would be a pieceof cake (literally).

Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband,

youngest son, and I went out to McDonalds, one crisp Marchmorning. It was just our way of sharing special play timewith our son.

We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of asudden everyone around us began to back away, and theneven my husband did. I did not move an inch...anoverwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as Iturned to see why they had moved.

As I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty body"smell...and there standing behind me were two poorhomeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman,close to me, he was "smiling"...his beautiful sky blue eyeswere full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance.

He said, "Good day" as he counted the few coins he hadbeen clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands ashe stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was

mentally deficient and the blue eyed gentle man was hissalvation. I held my tears......as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.He said, "Coffee is all Miss" because that was all they couldafford (to sit in the restaurant and warm up they had to buy


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something...they just wanted to be warm).

Then I really felt it...the compulsion was so great I almostreached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.

That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set onme...judging my every action. I smiled and asked the younglady behind the counter to give me two more breakfastmeals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner tothe table that the men had chosen as a resting spot.

I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyedgentleman's cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in hiseyes, and said, "Thank you". I leaned over, began to pat hishand and said, "I did not do this for you...God is here

working through me to give you hope". I started to cry as Iwalked away to join my husband and son. When I sat downmy husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave

you to me honey....to give me hope". We held hands for amoment and at that time we knew that only because of theGrace were we able to give .....

We are not church goers but we are believers. That dayshowed me the pure Light of God's sweet love.

I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with thisstory in hand. I turned in "my project" and the instructorread it....then she looked up at me and said, "Can I sharethis?" I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class.She began to read and that is when I knew that we ashuman beings (part of God) share this need to heal.

In my own way I had touched the people at McDonalds, myhusband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared theclassroom on the last night I spent as a college student. IGraduated with one of the biggest lessons I would everlearn....unconditional acceptance......after all....we are hereto learn!


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Diane Ackerman said, "Everyone admits that love iswonderful and necessary, yet no one agrees on just what itis." Over the years, I have been learning what it is.

When I first got married, I wanted to show my love to mynew wife. I was drawn to romantic stories like one from thetime of Oliver Cromwell in England where a young soldierhad been tried in military court and sentenced to death. Hewas to be shot at the "ringing of the curfew bell." His fianceclimbed up into the bell tower. Several hours before curfewtime and tied herself to bell's huge clapper. At curfew time,when only muted sounds came out of the bell tower,Cromwell demanded to know why the bell was not ringing.

His soldiers went to investigate and found the young womancut and bleeding from being knocked back and forth againstthe great bell. They brought her down, and, the story goes,Cromwell was so impressed with her willingness to suffer inthis way on behalf of someone she loved that he dismissedthe soldier saying, "Curfew shall not ring tonight."

That must be love, I thought! That was the kind ofcommitment I needed to make! I wanted to give my all. To

tie myself to the bell for her. To die, if necessary, for her. Tosacrifice myself on the altar of true love! I wanted her toknow that Id give it all up for her.

But she never wanted me to die for her. Never! Clean thetoilets, maybe, but never die. My commitment was to beshown in household chores! (I read that an exhaustive studyshowed that no woman ever shot her husband while he wasdoing dishes. What a relief. Washing dishes may lackinspiration, but at least it's safe...)

I was never called upon to tie myself to the bell. But I wasstill called upon to show my love - in little ways, mostly.

I was needed to comfort her before we were married whenthe doctor told her she could never have childrento hold


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her hand and tell her I wanted her more than I wanted afamily.

I was called upon to sit by her hospital bed after surgery and

encourage her.

I was called upon to hold her after her father died and let hercry.

I was also called upon to carve out alone time with her asoften as possible and to make sure my plans included her aswell as me.

I was never needed to prove my undying love through a

glorious act of self-sacrifice. It was something I was requiredto do in little ways, through one small act of kindness at atime.

And that, I've learned, is love.


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It rained so hard tonight. I could feel the wind piercingthrough my ribs.

A rainy Christmas eve. It just made me feel sadder andlonelier. It had rained the day he was buried into the groundand I had cried just like now. I was attracted to this cheerfulguy when I first started helping out in the 'Home for theDisabled' three years back. He was a very special guy whowas almost perfect if not for his eyes. He was blind. Hebecame blind when he was 8.He got the high fever then andthe doctors could do nothing. He lost his sight as a result.

He told me he didn't really mind not being able to see

because he could always touch and feel things we normalbeings weren't able to. I was really touched by his optimism.Even though he was blind, his eyes were the most soulfuleyes that I had ever seen. He was extremely helpful towardsothers and always did his best to give others what he could.He showered his love lavishly on everyone he knew. He waslike an angel. He had a kind and unselfish heart. He gavehalf of what he earned to charity and he would help out atthe 'Home' almost everyday.

Whenever we were free from tending to the people at the'Home', we would talk to one another for a long time. Hetalked about God a lot and how blessed was he to havefound joy in the Lord. He didn't blame God for anymisfortunes that had befallen on him. He said the Lord hadhis reasons for not giving him sight and he didn't blame Godfor the fact that his parent got killed in an accident when hewas barely 12.

I felt somewhat ashamed when I heard his words since I hadalways blamed God for not giving me a prettier face. I bore agrudge against God for not giving this wonderful angel Hisfullest blessings. I thought that God was unfair to him fortaking ,apart from his sight, his loved ones away from him. Ifelt that he truly deserved more.


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Luke and I were completely different from one another. Hewas an optimist and I was a pessimist. He could overlookflaws easily while I would always pick at others' faults.

However we did have one thing in common. We both had anundying passion for astronomy. He told me he stillremembered how lovely the stars had looked like before hebecame blind. And how his dad used to tell him about stars,black holes and space before God took him away to Heaven.One thing he didn't know was that I was silently crying forhim all the time while he talked. I knew then that I loved himmore than I could ever loved anyone.

Luke and I had been together for almost two years. We could

hardly bear to be away from one another for less than half aday. We spent most of our time helping out at the 'Home'and 'watching' the stars at a pasture near it. I would tell himthe names and shapes of the constellations that appeared inthe skies and he would listen carefully with a smile on hisface. It seemed like he saw the stars that I told him, behindthose soulful eyes that could never see the art of God.

Continue to The Story Of A Blind man Part 2
http://www.touchinglovestories.com/thestoryofablindman2.htmhttp://www.touchinglovestories.com/thestoryofablindman2.htm


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A touching story worth reading.

Dear Patrick,

I was then an only child who had everything I could everwant. But even a pretty, spoiled and rich kid could get lonelyonce in a while so when Mom told me that she was

pregnant, I was ecstatic. I imagined how wonderful youwould be and how we'd always be together and how much

you would look like me. So, when you were born, I looked atyour tiny hands and feet and marveled at how beautiful youwere.

We took you home and I showed you proudly to my friends.They would touch you and sometimes pinch you, but younever reacted. When you were five months old, some thingsbegan to bother Mom. You seemed so unmoving and numb,and your cry sounded odd --- almost like a kitten's. So webrought you to many doctors.

The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said youhave the "cry du chat" (pronounced Kree-do-sha) syndrome,

"cry of the cat" in French.

When I asked what that meant, he looked at me with pityand softly said, "Your brother will never walk nor talk." Thedoctor told us that it is a condition that afflicts one in 50,000babies, rendering victims severely retarded. Mom wasshocked and I was furious. I thought it was unfair.

When we went home, Mom took you in her arms and cried. Ilooked at you and realized that word will get around that

you're not normal. So to hold on to my popularity, I did theunthinkable ... I disowned you. Mom and Dad didn't know butI steeled myself not to love you as you grew. Mom and Dadshowered you love and attention and that made me bitter.

And as the years passed, that bitterness turned to anger,and then hate.


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Mom never gave up on you. She knew she had to do it foryour sake.

Everytime she put your toys down, you'd roll instead ofcrawl. I watched her heart break every time she took awayyour toys and strapped your tummy with foam so youcouldn't roll. You struggle and you're cry in that pitiful way,the cry of the kitten. But she still didn't give up.

And then one day, you defied what all your doctors said --you crawled.

When mom saw this, she knew you would eventually walk.

So when you were still crawling at age four, she'd put you onthe grass with only your diapers on knowing that you hatethe feel of the grass on your skin.

Then she'd leave you there. I would sometimes watch fromthe windows and smile at your discomfort. You would crawlto the sidewalk and Mom would put you back. Again andagain, Mom repeated this on the lawn. Until one day, Momsaw you pull yourself up and toddle off the grass as fast as

your little legs could carry you.

Laughing and crying, she shouted for Dad and I to come.Dad hugged you crying openly.

I watched from my bedroom window this heartbreakingscene.

Over the years, Mom taught you to speak, read and write.From then on, I would sometime see you walk outside, smellthe flowers, marvel at the birds, or just smile at no one. Ibegan to see the beauty of the world through your eyes. Itwas then that I realized that you were my brother and nomatter how much I tried to hate you, I couldn't, because Ihad grown to love you.


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During the next few days, we again became acquainted witheach other. I would buy you toys and give you all the lovethat a sister could ever give to her brother. And you wouldreward me by smiling and hugging me.

But I guess, you were never really meant for us. On yourtenth birthday, you felt severe headaches. The doctor'sdiagnosis --leukemia. Mom gasped and Dad held her, while Ifought hard to keep my tears from falling. At that moment, Iloved you all the more. I couldn't even bear to leave yourside. Then the doctors told us that your only hope is to havea bonemarrow transplant. You became the subject of anationwide donor search. When at last we found the rightmatch, you were too sick, and the doctor reluctantly ruled

out the operations. Since then, you underwentchemotherapy and radiation.

Even at the end, you continued to pursue life. Just a monthbefore you died, you made me draw up a list of things youwanted to do when you got out of the hospital. Two daysafter the list was completed, you asked the doctors to send

you home. There, we ate ice cream and cake, run across thegrass, flew kites, went fishing, took pictures of one another

and let the balloons fly. I remember the last conversationthat we had. You said that if you die, and if I need of help, Icould send you a note to heaven by tying it on the string ofany balloon and letting it fly. When you said this, I startedcrying. Then you hugged me. Then again, for the last time,

you got sick.

That last night, you asked for water, a back rub, a cuddle.Finally, you went into seizure with tears streaming down

your face. Later, at the hospital, you struggled to talk butthe words wouldn't come. I know what you wanted to say."Hear you," I whispered. And for the last time, I said, "I'llalways love and I will never forget you. Don't be afraid. You'llsoon be with God in heaven." Then, with my tears flowingfreely, I watched the bravest boy I had ever known finallystop breathing. Dad, Mom and I cried until I felt as if there


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were no more tears left. Patrick was finally gone, leaving usbehind.

From then on, you were my source of inspiration. You

showed me how to love life and live to the fullest. With yoursimplicity and honesty, you showed me a world full of loveand caring. And you made me realize that the mostimportant thing in this life is to continue loving withoutasking why or how and without setting any limit.

Thank you, my little brother, for all these.


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A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming homeafter having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents fromSan Francisco.

"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. Ihave a friend I'd like to bring home with me.

"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."

"There's something you should know," the son continued,"he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on aland mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else togo, and I want him to come live with us."

"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him findsomewhere to live."

"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."

"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking.Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burdenon us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let

something like this interfere with our lives. I think you shouldjust come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way tolive on his own."

At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heardnothing more from him. A few days later, however, theyreceived a call from the San Francisco police. Their son haddied after falling from a building, they were told. The policebelieved it was suicide.

The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and weretaken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son.They recognized him, but to their horror they alsodiscovered something they didn't know, their son had onlyone arm and one leg.


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The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easyto love those who are good-looking or fun to have around,but we don't like people who inconvenience us or make usfeel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people

who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are.

Thankfully, there's someone who won't treat us that way.Someone who loves us with an unconditional love thatwelcomes us into the forever family, regardless of howmessed up we are.

Tonight, before you tuck yourself in for the night, say a littleprayer that God will give you the strength you need toaccept people as they are, and to help us all be more

understanding of those who are different from us!!! There'sa miracle called Friendship That dwells in the heart You don'tknow how it happens Or when it gets started But you knowthe special lift It always brings. And you realize thatFriendship Is God's most precious gift!

Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smileand encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they sharea word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts

to us. Show your friends how much you care....


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One day a farmer's donkey fell into an abandoned well. Theanimal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figureout what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was too oldand the well needed to be covered up anyway; so it justwasn't worth it to him to try to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. Theyeach grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into thewell. Realizing what was happening, the donkey at first criedand wailed horribly.

Then, a few shovel-fulls later, he quieted down completely.The farmer peered down into the well, and was astounded

by what he saw. With every shovel-full of dirt that hit hisback, the donkey would shake it off and take a step up onthe new layer of dirt.

As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top ofthe animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Prettysoon, the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well andtrotted off, to the shock and astonishment of everyone.

The Moral: Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt.The trick to getting out of the well is to stop wailing, and notlet the dirt bury you, but to shake it off and take a step up.Each one of our troubles is a stepping-stone. We can get outof the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up!Shake it off and take a step up.


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On a BA flight from Johannesburg, a middle-aged, well-offwhite South African Lady has found herself sitting next to ablack man. She called the cabin crew attendant over tocomplain about her seating."What seems to be the problem Madam?" asked theattendant.

"Can't you see?" she said, " You've sat me next to a kafir. Ican't possibly sit next to this disgusting human. Find meanother seat!"

"Please calm down, Madam." the stewardess replied. "Theflight is very full today, but I'll tell you what I'll do - I'll go and

check to see if we have any seats available in club or firstclass."

The woman cocks a snooty look at the outraged black manbeside her (not to mention many of the surrounding

passengers).

A few minutes later the stewardess returns with the goodnews, which she delivers to the lady, who cannot help but

look at the people around her with a smug and self-satisfiedgrin:

"Madam, unfortunately, as I suspected, economy is full. I'vespoken to the cabin services director, and club is also full.However, we do have one seat in first class."

Before the lady has a chance to answer, the stewardesscontinues...

"It is most extraordinary to make this kind of upgrade,however, and I have had to get special permission from thecaptain. But, given the circumstances, the captain felt that itwas outrageous that someone should be forced to sit nextsuch an obnoxious person."


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Having said that, the stewardess turned to the black mansitting next to the lady, and said:

"So if you'd like to get your things, sir, I have your seat

ready for you..."

At which point, apparently the surrounding passengers stoodand gave a standing ovation while the black man walked upto the front of the plane...


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Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in thesnow. Bobby didn't wear boots; he didn't like them andanyway he didn't own any. The thin sneakers he wore had afew holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out thecold.Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already.

And, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea forhis mother's Christmas gift. He shook his head as hethought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, Idon't have any money to spend."

Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, thefamily of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother

didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough.She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage thatshe was earning could only be stretched so far.

What the family lacked in money and material things, theymore than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby hadtwo older and one younger sister, who ran the household intheir mother's absence.

All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts fortheir mother. Somehow, it just wasn't fair. Here it wasChristmas Eve already, and he had nothing.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow andstarted to walk down to the street where the shops andstores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father,especially when he needed a man to talk to.

Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each

decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and soout of reach. It was starting to get dark and Bobbyreluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyescaught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off ofsomething along the curb. He reached down and discovereda shiny dime.


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Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt atthat moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmthspread throughout his entire body and he walked into the

first store he saw. His excitement quickly turned cold whensalesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buyanything with only a dime.

He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. Whenthe shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presentedthe dime and asked if he could buy one flower for hismother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobbyand his ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby'sshoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see

what I can do for you."

As Bobby waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers andeven though he was a boy, he could see why mothers andgirls liked flowers.

The sound of the door closing as the last customer left,jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobbybegan to feel alone and afraid.

Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to thecounter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem,red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tiedtogether with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as theowner picked them up and placed them gently into a longwhite box.

"That will be ten cents young man." the shop owner saidreaching out his hand for the dime. Slowly, Bobby moved hishand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No oneelse would give him a thing for his dime!

Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I justhappened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen.Would you like them?"


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This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placedthe long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking outthe door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the

shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son."

As he returned inside, the shop keepers wife walked out."Who were you talking to back there and where are theroses you were fixing?"

Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his owneyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me thismorning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, Ithought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my

best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the timewhether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them asideanyway.

Then just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shopand wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one smalldime.

When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too

was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmasgift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on thestreet and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars.When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voicewas, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses."

The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, andas they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehowdidn't feel cold at all.


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There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher.Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front ofher 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she toldthe children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at herstudents and said that she loved them all the same.But that was impossible, because there in the front row,slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before andnoticed that he didn't play well with the other children, thathis clothes were messy and that he constantly needed abath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the pointwhere Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in markinghis papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then

putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she wasrequired to review each child's past records and she putTeddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file,she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright childwith a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good

manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellentstudent, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubledbecause his mother has a terminal illness and life at homemust be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has beenhard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn'tshow much interest and his home life will soon affect him if

some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawnand doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't havemany friends and sometimes sleeps in class."


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By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she wasashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her studentsbrought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautifulribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present

which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper thathe got from a grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of theother presents. Some of the children started to laugh whenshe found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stonesmissing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume.But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimedhow pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbingsome of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just longenough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just likemy Mom used to." After the children left she cried for atleast an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading,and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teachchildren..

Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she

worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The moreshe encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end ofthe year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children inthe class and, despite her lie that she would love all thechildren the same, Teddy became one her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy,telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had inhis whole life. Six years went by before she got another notefrom Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school,third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he everhad in his whole life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying thatwhile things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school,had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with


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the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that shewas still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in hiswhole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came..This time he explained that after he got his bachelor'sdegree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explainedthat she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had.But now his name was a little longer -- the letter was signed,Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet anotherletter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and wasgoing to be married. He explained that his father had died a

couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompsonmight agree to sit in the place at the wedding that wasusually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course,Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet,the one with several rhinestones missing. And she madesure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy rememberedhis mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs.

Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing inme. Thank you so much for making me feel important andshowing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. Shesaid, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one whotaught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know howto teach until I met you."


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My sons and I decided to go walking around the lake nearour home the other day. It is such a glorious place to spendan afternoon in the Springtime when the leaves are comingout on the trees and the flowers are coming up through theground. It has a well worn gravel path that circles the entirelake. You can walk at your own pace and delight in all thenatural beauty that surrounds you. It is the perfect place toget back in touch with God and to fill your soul with joy.

The only problem is that with the path being so near thewater, erosion sometimes causes holes to develop along thewalkway. It was while we were walking along it the other daythat one of these holes caught my oldest boy unawares. He

stumbled and almost fell but thankfully was able to reachout and take my hand. I steadied him and we walked on forawhile holding hands and feeling connected in our love foreach other.

I think that sometimes the troubles we face in our journeythrough life are a lot like those holes in the ground. They arealways there causing us to stumble and sometimes even tofall. It is good to know, however, that we can always reach

out and take the hand of our Heavenly Father. He is alwaysthere by our side waiting to pick us up and steady us. He isalways ready for us to take His hand and walk on with Himconnected in love forever.

The next time you stumble and fall on your journey throughlife then reach out and take Gods loving hand. And after youtake it never let it go again. Walk on with God forever,choosing love and sharing joy with each step you take.

Always remember too that with Gods loving hand steadying

your walk you can use your other hand to reach out and helpup those who have fallen as well. The journey through life,after all, is always better when you are holding the hands ofthose you love.


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Around the corner I have a friend,In this great city that has no end,Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,

And before I know it, a year is gone.And I never see my old friend's face,For life is a swift and terrible race,He knows I like him just as well,

As in the days when I rang his bell.And he rang mineIf, we were younger then,

And now we are busy, tired men.Tired of playing a foolish game,Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say "I will call on Jim""Just to show that I'm thinking of him."But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,

And distance between us grows and grows.Around the corner!- yet miles away,"Here's a telegram sir""Jim died today."

And that's what we get and deserve in the end.Around the corner, a vanished friend.

Remember to always say what you mean. If you lovesomeone, tell them. Don't be afraid to express yourself.Reach out and tell someone what they mean to you.Because when you decide that it is the right time, it mightbe too late. Seize the day. Never have regrets. And mostimportantly, stay close to your friends and family for theyhave helped make you the person that you are today.


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I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims thesky 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 goodlook at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott,has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he nowruns only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and hisbody shows the signs of long working hours and too manycandy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across arestaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head

home.

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" Iran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, sharedinterests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication.Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times.Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled upnewspaper, 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 checkoutfirst. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simplybeing together.

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

There is understanding. I understand why he must playbasketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a

year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and evenhim-to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking andlaughing.


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There is sharing. Not only do we share household worriesand parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott camehome from a convention last month and presented me with

a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers andscience fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. Hetouched my heart when he explained it was because hewanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'dread it.

There is forgiveness. When I'm embarrassingly loud andcrazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessedlosing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him ahug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the doorwith that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After hespent 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 standingbeside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tellthis husband of 40 years that his wife would probably neverrecover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical

crisis. Because there were still people who have beenmarried 40 years. Because my husband is still moved andconcerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over andconfessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageousbattle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with afriend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. OnThursday a neighbor called to talk about the frighteningeffects 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 phoneand thought, This is too much heartache for one week.Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, Inoticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolusoutside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son


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and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a weddingparty emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressedin 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 thatthe joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep usgoing.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundryjust shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to mostappointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. Heknows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I'll lock us outof the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the lastchocolate.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the skyis not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly

young: we've experienced too much that has contributed toour growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, andcreated our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As abride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert

Browning's line "Grow old along with me!" We're followingthose instructions.

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


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I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims thesky 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 goodlook at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott,has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he nowruns only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and hisbody shows the signs of long working hours and too manycandy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across arestaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head

home.

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" Iran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, sharedinterests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication.Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times.Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled upnewspaper, 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 checkoutfirst. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simplybeing together.

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

There is understanding. I understand why he must playbasketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a

year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and evenhim-to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking andlaughing.


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There is sharing. Not only do we share household worriesand parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott camehome from a convention last month and presented me with

a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers andscience fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. Hetouched my heart when he explained it was because hewanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'dread it.

There is forgiveness. When I'm embarrassingly loud andcrazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessedlosing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him ahug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the doorwith that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After hespent 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 standingbeside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tellthis husband of 40 years that his wife would probably neverrecover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical

crisis. Because there were still people who have beenmarried 40 years. Because my husband is still moved andconcerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over andconfessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageousbattle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with afriend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. OnThursday a neighbor called to talk about the frighteningeffects 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 phoneand thought, This is too much heartache for one week.Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, Inoticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolusoutside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son


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and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a weddingparty emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressedin 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 thatthe joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep usgoing.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundryjust shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to mostappointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. Heknows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I'll lock us outof the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the lastchocolate.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the skyis not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly

young: we've experienced too much that has contributed toour growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, andcreated our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As abride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert

Browning's line "Grow old along with me!" We're followingthose instructions.

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


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The first day of school our professor introduced himself andchallenged us to get to know someone we didn't alreadyknow. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touchedmy shoulder. I turned around to find a wrinkled, little oldlady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entirebeing.

She said, "Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty sevenyears old. Can I give you a hug?" I laughed andenthusiastically responded, "Of course you may!" and shegave me a giant squeeze.

"Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?" I

asked. She jokingly replied, "I'm here to meet a richhusband, get married, have a couple of children, and thenretire and travel." "No seriously," I asked. I was curious whatmay have motivated her to betaking on this challenge at herage. "I always dreamed of having a college education andnow I'm getting one!" she told me. After class we walked tothe student union building and shared a chocolatemilkshake. We became instant friends. Every day for thenext three months we would leave class together and talk

nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this "timemachine" as she shared her wisdom and experience withme.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus iconand easily made friends wherever she went. She loved todress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon herfrom the other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our

football banquet and I'll never forget what she taught us.She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As shebegan to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped herthree by five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a littleembarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simplysaid "I'm sorry. I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this


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whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in orderso let me just tell you what I know." As we laughed shecleared her throat and began:

"We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow oldbecause we stop playing. There are only four secrets tostaying young, being happy, and achieving success.

"You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got tohave a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. Wehave so many people walking around who are dead anddon't even know it!"

"There is a huge difference between growing older and

growing up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed forone full year and don't do one protective thing, you will turntwenty years old. If I am eighty seven years old and stay inbed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty eight.

Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent orability. The idea is to grow up by always finding theopportunity in change." "Have no regrets. The elderlyusually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather forthings we did not do. The only people who fear death are

those with regrets."

She concluded her speech by courageously singing "TheRose." She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and livethem out in our daily lives.

At the years end Rose finished the college degree she hadbegun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rosedied peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral intribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example thatit's never too late to be all you can possibly be.


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Sometimes people come into your life and you know rightaway that they were meant to be there, to serve some sortof purpose, teach you a lesson, or to help you figure out who

you are or who you want to become.

You never know who these people may be...possibly yourroommate, neighbor, coworker, long lost friend, or even acomplete stranger, but when you lock eyes with them, youknow at that very moment they will affect your life in some

profound way.And sometimes things happen to you that may seemhorrible, painful, and unfair at first, but in reflection you findthat without overcoming those obstacles you would have

never realized your potential, strength, willpower, or heart.

Everything happens for a reason.

Nothing happens by chance or by means of good luck.Illness, injury, love, lost moments of true greatness, andsheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of your soul.Without these small tests, whatever they may be, life wouldbe like a smoothly paved, straight, flat road to nowhere. It

would be safe and comfortable, but dull and utterlypointless.

The people you meet who affect your life, and the successand downfalls you experience, help to create who you areand who you become. Even the bad experiences can belearned from. In fact, they are probably the most poignantand important ones.

If someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your heart,

forgive them, for they have helped you learn about trust andthe importance of being cautious when you open your heart.

If someone loves you, love them back unconditionally, notonly because they love you, but because in a way, they are


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teaching you to love and how to open your heart and eyes tothings.

Make every day count.

Appreciate every moment and take from those momentseverything that you possibly can for you may never be ableto experience it again.

Talk to people that you have never talked to before, andactually listen.

Let yourself fall in love, break free, and set your sights high.

Hold your head up because you have every right to.

Tell yourself you are a great individual and believe inyourself, for if you dont believe in yourself, it will be hard forothers to believe in you.

You can make of your life anything you wish. Create yourown life and then go out and live it with absolutely noregrets.

Most importantly!!!if you LOVE someone tell him or her, for you never knowwhat tomorrow may have in store.

And learn a lesson in life each day that you live.THATS THE STORY OF LIFE


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Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Uglywas. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three thingsin this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say,love. The combination of these things combined with a lifespent outside had their effect on Ugly.

To start with, he had only one eye, and where the othershould have been was a gaping hole. He was also missinghis ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to havebeen badly broken at one time, and had healed at anunnatural angle, making him look like he was always turningthe corner.

His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smalleststub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly wouldhave been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for thesores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick,

yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there wasthe same reaction. "That's one ugly cat!"

All the children were warned not to touch him, the adultsthrew rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he

tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the doorwhen he would not leave. Ugly always had the samereaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would standthere, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If youthrew things at him, he would curl his lanky body aroundfeet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he wouldcome running meowing frantically and bump his headagainst their hands, begging for their love. If you ever pickedhim up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt,earrings, whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies.They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled.From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried torush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, itwas apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end.


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Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twistedgrossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of furthat ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry

him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and couldfeel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought.Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear-Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying wastrying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and hebumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turnedhis one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinctsound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that uglybattled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection,

perhaps some compassion.

At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful,loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to biteor scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or strugglein any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting inme to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat andheld him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one

scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinionabout what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to loveso totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving andcompassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk showspecials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred onthe inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn tolove truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked,beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.


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One day, I woke early in the morning to watch the sunrise.Ah the beauty of God's creation is beyond description.As I watched, I praised the God for His beautiful work.As I sat there, I felt the Lord's presence with me.He asked me, "Do you love me?"I answered, "Of course, God! You are my Lord and Savior!"

Then He asked, "If you were physically handicapped, wouldyou still love me?"

I was perplexed, "It would be tough Lord, but I would stilllove you."

Then the Lord said, " If you were blind, would you still lovemy creation?"

How could I love something without being able to see it?Then I thought of all the blind people in the world and howmany of them still loved God and his creation.

So I answered," It's hard to think of it, but I would still loveyou."

The Lord then asked me, "If you were deaf, would you stilllisten to my Lord?"

How could I listen to anything being deaf? Then Iunderstood. Listening to God's Word is not merely using ourears, but our hearts.

I answered, "It would be tough, but I would still listen to YourWord."

The Lord then asked, "If you were mute, would you stillpraise My Name?"

How could I praise without a voice? Then it occurred to me:God wants us to sing from our very heart and soul. It never


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matters what we sound like. And praisingGod is not always with a song, but when we are persecuted,we give God praise with our words of thanks.

So I answered, "Though I could not physically sing, I wouldstill praise Your Name."

And the Lord asked, "Do you really love Me?"

With courage and a strong conviction, I answered boldly."Yes Lord! I love You because You are the One and trueGod!"

I thought I had answered well, but God asked, "THEN WHY

DO YOU SIN?"

I answered, " Because I am only human. I am not perfect."

"THEN WHY IN TIMES OF PEACE DO YOU STRAY THEFURTHEST? WHY ONLY IN TIMES OF TROUBLE DO YOU PRAYTHE EARNEST?"

No answers. Only tears.

The Lord continued to roll down my cheeks.

"Why are you ashamed of Me? Why are you not spreadingthe good news? Why in times of persecution, you cry toothers when I offer My shoulder to cry on? Why makeexcuses when I give you opportunities to serve in MyName?"

I tried to answer, but there was no answer to give.

"You are blessed with life. I made you not to throw this giftaway. I have blessed you with talents to serve Me, but youcontinue to turn away. I have revealed My Word to you, but

you do not gain in knowledge. I have spoken to you but yourears were closed. I have shown My blessings to you, but


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your eyes were turned away. I have sent you servants, butyou sat idly by as they were pushed away. I have heard yourprayers and I have answered them all."

"DO YOU TRULY LOVE ME?"

I could not answer. How could I? I was embarrassed beyondbelief. I had no excuse. What could I say to this? When myheart had cried out and the tears had flowed. I said, "Pleaseforgive me Lord. I am unworthy to be Your child."

The Lord answered, "That is My Grace, My child."

I asked, "Then why do you continue to forgive me? Why do

you love me so?"

The Lord answered, "Because you are My creation. You areMy child. I will never abandon you. When you cry, I will havecompassion and cry with you. When you shout with joy, I willlaugh with you. When you are down, I will encourage you.When you fall, I will raise you up. When you are tired, I willcarry you. I will be with you till the end of days, and I willlove you forever."

Never had I cried so hard before. How could I have been socold? How could I have hurt God as I had done? I asked God," How much do you love me?"

The Lord stretched out His arms, and I saw His nail-piercedhands. I bowed down at the feet of Christ, my Savior. And forthe first time, I truly prayed.


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A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniorsin High school by telling them the difference they each madeusing a process developed by Helice Bridges of Del Mar,California. She called each student to the front of the class,one at a time. First she told them how they made adifference to her and the class. Then she presented each ofthem with a blue ribbon imprinted with gold letters whichread, "Who I Am Makes a Difference."

About a month later, the teacher decided to do a classproject to see what kind of impact recognition would have ona community. She gave each of the students three moreribbons and instructed them to go out and spread this

Acknowledgment Ceremony. Then they were to follow up onthe results, to see who honored whom and report back tothe class in about a week.

One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in anearby company and honored him for helping him with hiscareer planning . He gave him a blue ribbon and put it on hisshirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons, and said, "We'redoing a class project on recognition, and we'd like you to go

out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue ribbon, thengive them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge athird person to keep this acknowledgment ceremony going.Then please report back to me and tell me what happened."

Later that day the junior executive went in to see his boss,who had been noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchyfellow. He sat his boss down and he told him that he deeplyadmired him for being a creative genius. The boss seemedvery surprised . The junior executive asked him if he would

accept the gift of the blue ribbon and would he give himpermission to put it on him. His surprised boss said, "Well,sure". The junior executive took the blue ribbon and placedit right on his boss's jacket above his heart. As he gave himthe last extra ribbon, he said, "Would you do me a favor?Would you take this extra ribbon and pass it on by honoring


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somebody else? The young boy who first gave me theribbons is doing a project in school and we want to keep thisrecognition ceremony going and find out how it affects

people"

That night the boss came home to his 14-year-old son andsat him down He said, "The most incredible thing happenedto me today I was in my office and one of the juniorexecutives came in and told me he admired me and gaveme a blue ribbon for being a creative genius.

Imagine . He thinks I'm a creative genius . Then he put thisblue ribbon that says 'Who I Am Makes A Difference' on my

jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and

asked me to find somebody else to honor As I was drivinghome tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honorwith this ribbon and I thought about you. I want to honor

you. My days are really hectic and when I come home I don'tpay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you fornot getting good enough grades in school, and for yourbedroom being a mess, but somehow tonight, I just wantedto sit here and, well, just let you know that you do make adifference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most

Love Stories 3

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