My Stories

The call came late one evening
on a cold and stormy night
she thought it was her husband
this time she was not right
your husband has been drinking
the wreck is not a pretty site
he was alive when they had found him
the chopper took him off in flight
she didn't know just what to say
I'll be right there I'm on my way
she went and woke their only child
said daddy was hurt so calm and mild
please get dressed we need to go
daddy needs us there I know
they arrived so quick but still too late
rushing in to find his fatal state
they told the girl to stay right here
as they took the mother to a place so near
she watched as her mother started to cry
and knew this time that daddy would die
she kneeled beside a waiting room chair
as she started to speak her simple prayer
Jesus I know that you love me
I want you to watch over my daddy
If you want him now then we can share
I love you both and I want to be fair
I am not sure if he knows the way
he did not talk to you everyday
please send an angel to help him to know
which directions to take when he must go
when he gets to you could you do something please
from me and mommy give a hug with a squeeze
and tell him that we said goodbye
I have to go now I am starting to cry
as the little girl sits shedding many a tear
she fades off to sleep so precious and dear
her daddy stands upon heaven's gate
he whispers out loud how could this be my fate
so many things in my life that were wrong
yet I wait here now to such praise and sweet song
then comes a voice and a light that appear
it says look to the light to what you know dear
he watches his daughter give her unselfish prayer
then he sees her asleep bearing wings in the chair
the angel requested you already know
sent to you and your wife not too long ago
I have decided to spare her the great loss of you
let it be known that you are the fool
and this second chance must be used as a tool
remember this always in the back of your head
as now your sent back to your hospital bed
A stir of commotion as he sits up in bed
this man that was already pronounced to be dead
he looks to his wife and offers a hand
with soft spoken words please help me to stand
he stumbles a little then heads to the hall
as he calls for his angel his wife starts to bawl
he finds his little girl cheeks covered in tears
he picks up his angel overlooked through the years
she awakes to his hug with it's tight gentle squeeze
her tiny little smile and heart wrenching plea
said
I prayed to him daddy now I know he can see
Author: Douglas Q. Plew

All my life I've had problems with intermitten bouts of depression, especially near the end of winter. It was often hard to break free of the seemingly unending sadness. I have met many others who have problems with depression and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). I would often try isolating myself, listen to music and read. I dreaded the times I couldn't. Then I thought - maybe I'm not supposed to just hide.
I looked around me and started to think about all the wonderful blessings in my life instead. I keep a journal of many blessings, and take the time to read and write in it at least weekly. My joural includes things like the beauty of sunrises and sunsets, a special or funny event, friends and family who care about me and vise versa , a warm home with pets full of unconditional love to come home to, the ability to move freely, my health, having a career that I love doing and provides me with the means to support my family comfortably, being able to read and write, even if my typing is still a bit slow, having the ability and means to drive, to not be with an abusive partner any longer, to live in a country where I am able to voice my opinion without worry of reprimand, having a computer and access to the Internet which helped me to meet new friends as well as gain much useful information, without having to leave the comfort of my home. The list grows each time. It's a small thing, but helps me greatly.
There are daily miracles and much to be thankful for in everyone's life, but we sometimes have to stop rushing around to realize them. I know God doesn't want us to be sad. Each day is a gift - that's why it's called the present.

angelpegasus327

===

Angel, beautiful thoughts. We do need to tell ourselves "We choose to be happy!" everyday.

Find Angel

During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively.
One particular day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas ... sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"
"Not 'zackley .....but, almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble."
"Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."
I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man.

A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering. Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ... very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes. Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men, who just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last when Jim could not change his mind about color or size ... they came to pay their debt. "We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho." With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, exquisitely shined, red marbles.
Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
A wish for you!

Today...I wish you a day of ordinary miracles -- A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work or shop.
I wish you a day of little things to rejoice in... The fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing along song on the radio. Your keys right where you look.
I wish you a day of happiness and perfection -- little bite-size pieces of perfection that give you the funny feeling that God is smiling on you, holding you so gently because you are someone special and rare.
I wish You a day of Peace, Happiness and Joy.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.
Author Unknown

1 - Most Important Lesson
During my second month of college our professor gave us a pop quiz.
I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one:
"What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
"Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care even if all you do is smile and say 'hello'."
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

2 - Second Important Lesson
Always remember those who serve
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table.A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked.
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. "Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?" he inquired.
By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. "Thirty-five cents, she brusquely replied."
The little boy again counted his coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table.There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies. You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

3 - Third Important Lesson
The Obstacle in Our Path
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock.Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been.
The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand. Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

Upon spying the long and
Graceful sunflower,
Thought the tumbleweed,
Alas,
I am not
And will never be
A sunflower.
I can not put down roots;
Instead, I travel on and on,
Following scattered routes.
It's a tough life and,
Although I have become
Battle scarred
From chronic rolling here and
Constant rolling there,
Only a small portion of me
Possesses the tactile sense.
Although I most assuredly
Am not
Insensitive.
With that, the tumbleweed skewed away
On a zigzagged path which seemingly
Defied logic,
Dancing, though not merrily,
Ungracefully, to
The mindless music of the wind.
Suddenly the wind strengthened and
The tumbleweed slammed
Against a wall of rock.
Crashing to pieces.
The tumbleweed thought,
How strange, I feel that I am floating.
Floating, over the shards of my
Tumbleweed shell.
And, look, there is the sunflower.
The sunflower I earlier spied.
How I wanted to be a sunflower.
I will never be a sunflower.
And now, I am not even a tumbleweed.
Suddenly, the sunflower spoke,
Hello, you lovely, lovely butterfly,
How I wish I were a butterfly,
Free to
Roam the earth.
Free to
Fly here,
To hasten there.
Instead, I sit rooted here,
Day in,
Day out,
Stretching, stretching, stretching
Towards the warm and comforting sun.
But I will never be able to reach the sun
Or to see the far flung wonders of the
World.
And, when the sun sets,
I feel cold and
Wonder,
Will I live to see
Another warm and sunny day?
And, as the tumbleweed floated,
She turned to the sunflower and
Said
Good afternoon, sunflower.
The sunflower replied,
Good afternoon, butterfly.
Butterfly? I'm not a butterfly,
I'm a tumbleweed,
At least, I used to be a tumbleweed.
No, said the sunflower,
You were the chrysalis, waiting to become
A butterfly.
Your cocoon was merely
Attached to a tumbleweed,
Composed of bits and pieces of
Dead plants.
The tumbleweed was for you as
A nest is for a bird.
And now your time has come.
Now, fly away,
Fly away.
Transverse, travel, rejoice
and celebrate the
Beauty of the world.
Forget not your past,
Forget not your friends,
But live, live in your present.
Remember, it is called
Your present because it is
God's gift to you.
And the butterfly flew forward,
Eager to embrace adventure.
Never to turn around
Nor to mourn
The life past as a tumbleweed.
Forward to face the sun.
by Lisa Renee Kraus

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so
often? When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the
coming ticket.

A Christian cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened
to be a little eager to get home after a long day at the office.
A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow. Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.

"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess."
Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the
rules a bit-just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.
"Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight.
Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation
in our precinct."
Ouch! This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"
"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you.
I was barely nudging 65."
The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
"Please, Jack, in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door.
Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license? Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays
before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
"Thanks."
Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice. Bob returned to his car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. He unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute.
What was this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket.
Jack began to read:
"Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free.
Free to hug his daughters. All three of them. I only
had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven
before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've
tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now.
Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have left.
Bob"
Jack...twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared.
A full 15 minutes later, he, too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

Life is precious. Handle with care.
The author is unknown.

I had a very special teacher in high school many years ago whose husband unexpectedly died suddenly of a heart attack. About a week after his death, she shared some of her insight with a classroom of students.
As the late afternoon sunlight came streaming in through the classroom windows and the class was nearly over, she moved a few things aside on the edge of her desk and sat down there.
With a gentle look of reflection on her face, she paused and said, "Before class is over, I would like to share with all of you a thought that is unrelated to class, but which I feel is very important.

Each of us is put here on earth to learn, share, love, appreciate and give of ourselves... and none of us knows when this fantastic experience will end. It can be taken away at any moment. Perhaps this is God's way of telling us that we must make the most out of every single day."
Her eyes beginning to water, she went on, "So I would like you all to make me a promise... from now on, on your way to school, or on your way home, find something beautiful to notice. It doesn't have to be something you see - it could be a scent - perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting out of someone's house, or it could be the sound of the breeze slightly rustling the leaves in the trees, or the way the morning light catches one autumn leaf as it falls gently to the ground. Please, look for these things, and cherish them. For, although it may sound trite to some, these things are the "stuff" of life. The little things we are put here on earth to enjoy.
The things we often take for granted. We must make it important to notice them, for at any time... it can all be taken away."
The class was completely quiet. We all picked up our books and filed out of the room silently. That afternoon, I noticed more things on my way home from school than I had that whole semester. Every once in a while, I think of that teacher and remember what an impression she made on all of us, and I try to appreciate all of those things that sometimes we all overlook. Take notice of something special you see on your lunch hour today. Go barefoot. Or walk on the beach at sunset. Stop off on the way home tonight to get a double-dip ice cream cone.
For as we get older, it is not the things we did that we often regret, but the things we didn't do.
Author Unknow

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.
Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky.

The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried. Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.
It is easy to get discouraged when things are going badly. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering. Remember, next time your little hut is
burning to the ground--it just may be a smoke signal that summons The
Grace of God.

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from
door to door to pay his way through school,
found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the
next house. However, he lost his nerve when a
lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he
looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked,
"How much do I owe you?" "You don't owe me
anything," she replied.
"Mother has taught us never to accept payment
for a kindness."

He said... "Then I thank you from my heart."
As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only
felt stronger physically, but
his faith in God and man was strong also. He
had been ready to give up and quit.
Years later that young woman became
critically ill. The local
doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to
the big city, where they
called in specialists to study her rare
disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was
called in for the consultation. When he heard
the name of the town she
came from, a strange light filled his eyes.
Immediately he rose and went
down the hall of the hospital to her room.
Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to
see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the
consultation room determined
to do his best to save her life. From that day
he gave special attention
to the case.
After a long struggle, the battle was won.
Dr. Kelly requested
the business office to pass the final bill to
him for approval. He looked
at it, then wrote
something on the edge and the bill was sent to
her room. She feared to
open it, for she was sure it would take the
rest of her life to pay for it
all. Finally, she looked, and something caught
her attention on the side
as She read these words.....
"Paid in full with one glass of milk." (Signed)
Dr. Howard Kelly. Tears of
joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed:
"Thank You, GOD, that Your
love has spread abroad through human hearts and
hands."

Jerry is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life. "Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gun point by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.
I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. ?The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live."
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action." " What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'" Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.
Unknown Author