Wet Pants

by: Author Unknown,

A nine-year-old was kid sitting at his desk when suddenly there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat".

He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.

As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap. The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym short to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.

She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. "You've done enough, you klutz!"Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."

The Red Rose

by: Author Unknown,

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.

His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell.

With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:"A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips." "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. "Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment."

"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?

"The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go ahead and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

Hold On To Your Dream

by: Author Unknown,

There's a voice that calls to some of us

From somewhere deep inside

A voice that will not give us peace,

Until at least we've tried

To catch that bright elusive star,

Though foolish it may seem

To those not driven as we are

To hold on to a dream.
It's not just thoughts of fame or wealth

That keep us hanging on

When others would have given up,

When all but hope is gone.

When sometimes even hope grows dim

And casts its faintest beam,

We wonder if it's worth it all

To hold on to a dream.
And then that voice inside of us That others cannot know Tells us that our chance will come, That we must not let go. If we can only persevere Someday our star till gleam! And they'll know why we had to try To hold on to our dream.

Lesson from a Rainy Day

by: Author Unknown,

August 26, 1999 is a day that many New Yorkers would probably like to forget. However, this New Yorker will always remember that day because that is the day that I learned what a powerful gift appreciation can truly be. On August 26, 1999, New York City experienced a torrential downpour. The relentless rain caused the streets to flood. New York City's subway system came to a screeching halt as the subway stations were inundated with water. Unfortunately, this happened during the morning rush hour. Many people who were going to work were stranded and forced to go home. Some battled with fellow New Yorkers to hail a cab or to get on a bus. Still others braved the storm, walking miles to get to work. I happened to be one of people on her way to work that morning. I went from subway line to subway line only to find that most service had stopped. After running around like crazy and making my way through crowds of people, I finally found a subway line that was operating. Unfortunately, there were so many people waiting to board the subway that I could not even get down the stairs to the platform. Undaunted and determined to get to work, I decided to take the train uptown several stops and then switch back to the downtown train. It was a hassle, but it paid off. However, the train got more packed at each stop. People pushed and shoved. I was constantly hit with elbows and bags. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the train reached my stop. But the journey was not over yet. I would still have to walk several blocks to get to my office. The rain had intensified, and no umbrella was enough to withstand the forces of Mother Nature. When I finally got to work, I was completely soaked and left a puddle of water everywhere I sat. I was also exhausted and discouraged from my commute. My coworkers and I spent most of the day drying off. When 5:00 rolled around, I was ready to go home. I was about to log off my computer when I received an email from Garth, my Deputy Director. I opened the email and found the following message: I would like to thank all those associates who made the effort and eventually reported to work. It is always reassuring, at times like these, when employees so clearly demonstrate their dedication to their jobs. Thank you. As you can see, Garth's email was short, but I learned more from that brief message than I ever did from a textbook. The email taught me that a few words of appreciation can make a big difference. The rainstorm and the transit troubles had made me miserable and weary. But Garth's words immediately invigorated me and put a smile back on my face. Garth's actions also made me realize that words of appreciation not only make you feel good but it also motivates and inspires you. After reading his email, I felt that coming to work that day was an accomplishment that I should be proud of. Suddenly getting drenched and the extremely long commute did not seem so bad. As a matter of fact, his email made the whole subway ordeal all worthwhile. Sometimes we are so wrapped up in our lives that we forget the magical power of appreciation. Garth had been caught in the rain like the rest of us. He had to tend to his responsibilities. He also had to cope with the numerous absences in the five areas that he manages. And he had to take on his boss' responsibilities, as she was unable to get to work. Yet, he still found time to send an email thanking his employees for their dedication and the extra effort they had made to get to work. Garth taught me that I should never be too busy to show people my appreciation and to acknowledge the positive things they do. This was the most valuable lesson that anyone could ever give me. And for that, I will always be grateful to Garth. August 26, 1999 may have been one of the darkest days in New York City history, but it was one of the brightest days in my life thanks to Garth.

If You Were

by: Author Unknown,

If you were busy being kind,

Before you knew it you would find

You'd soon forget to think `twas true

That someone was unkind to you.
If you were busy being glad

And cheering people who seem sad,

Although your heart might ache a bit,

You'd soon forget to notice it.
If you were busy being good,

And doing just the best you could,

You'd not have time to blame some man

Who's doing just the best he can.
If you were busy being true

To what you know you ought to do,

You'd be so busy you'd forget

The blunders of the folks you've met.
If you were busy being right,

You'd find yourself too busy quite

To criticize your brother long,

Because he's busy being wrong.

Roses of Life

by: Author Unknown,

I've dreamed many dreams that never came true.

I've seen them vanish at dawn.

But I've realized enough of my dreams,

Thank God, To make me want to dream on.
I've prayed many prayers, when no answers came,

Though I waited patient and long,

But answers came to enough of my prayers

To make me keep praying on.
I've trusted many a friend that failed

And left me to weep alone,

But I've found enough of my friends true blue

To make me keep trusting on.
I've sown many seeds that fell by the way

For the birds to feed upon,

But I have held enough golden sheaves in my hands

To make me keep sowing on.
I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain

And gone many days without song,

But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life

To make me want to live on.

Attitude Determines Attitude

by: Author Unknown,

I woke up early today, excited over all I get to do before the clock strikes midnight. I have responsibilities to fulfill today. I am important. My job is to choose what kind of day I am going to have.
Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankful that the grass is getting watered for free.
Today I can feel sad that I don't have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.
Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.
Today I can lament over all that my parents didn't give me when I was growing up or I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.
Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.
Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon a quest to discover new relationships.
Today I can whine because I have to go to work or I can shout for joy because I have a job to do.
Today I can complain because I have to go to school or eagerly open my mind and fill it with rich new tidbits of knowledge.
Today I can murmur dejectedly because I have to do housework or I can feel honored because the Lord has provided shelter for my mind, body and soul.
Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped. And here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping.
What today will be like is up to me. I get to choose what kind of day I will have!

A Special Teacher

by: Author Unknown,

Years ago a John Hopkin's professor gave a group of graduate students this assignment: Go to the slums. Take 200 boys, between the ages of 12 and 16, and investigate their background and environment. Then predict their chances for the future.
The students, after consulting social statistics, talking to the boys, and compiling much data, concluded that 90 percent of the boys would spend some time in jail.
Twenty-five years later another group of graduate students was given the job of testing the prediction. They went back to the same area. Some of the boys - by then men - were still there, a few had died, some had moved away, but they got in touch with 180 of the original 200. They found that only four of the group had ever been sent to jail.
Why was it that these men, who had lived in a breeding place of crime, had such a surprisingly good record? The researchers were continually told: "Well, there was a teacher..."
They pressed further, and found that in 75 percent of the cases it was the same woman. The researchers went to this teacher, now living in a home for retired teachers. How had she exerted this remarkable influence over that group of children? Could she give them any reason why these boys should have remembered her?
"No," she said, "no I really couldn't." And then, thinking back over the years, she said amusingly, more to herself than to her questioners: "I loved those boys...."

Always Remember Those who Serve

by: Author Unknown,

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?"
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.
"How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.
"Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely.
The little boy again counted the 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 departed.
When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip

Working Towards What You Already Have

by: Author Unknown,

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.
The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."
The American then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"
The Mexican said, "With this I have more than enough to support my family's needs."
The American then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."
The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you will run your ever- expanding enterprise."
The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"
To which the American replied, "15 to 20 years."
"But what then?" asked the Mexican.
The American laughed and said that's the best part. "When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."
"Millions?...Then what?"
The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

THE POWER OF YOUR WORDS

by: Author Unknown,

A group of frogs were hopping contentedly through the woods, going about their froggy business, when two of them fell into a deep pit. All of the other frogs gathered around the pit to see what could be done to help their companions.
When they saw how deep the pit was, the rest of the dismayed group agreed that it was hopeless and told the two frogs in the pit that they should prepare themselves for their fate, because they were as good as dead.
Unwilling to accept this terrible fate, the two frogs began to jump with all of their might. Some of the frogs shouted into the pit that it was hopeless, and that the two frogs wouldn't be in that situation if they had been more careful, more obedient to the froggy rules, and more responsible. The other frogs continued sorrowfully shouting that they should save their energy and give up, since they were already as good as dead. The two frogs continued jumping as hard as they could, and after several hours of desperate effort were quite weary.
Finally, one of the frogs took heed to the calls of his fellows. Spent and disheartened, he quietly resolved himself to his fate, lay down at the bottom of the pit, and died as the others looked on in helpless grief.
The other frog continued to jump with every ounce of energy he had, although his body was wracked with pain and he was completely exhausted. His companions began anew, yelling for him to accept his fate, stop the pain and just die. The weary frog jumped harder and harder and -- wonder of wonders! Finally leaped so high that he sprang from the pit.
Amazed, the other frogs celebrated his miraculous freedom and then gathering around him asked, "Why did you continue jumping when we told you it was impossible?"
Reading their lips, the astonished frog explained to them that he was deaf, and that when he saw their gestures and shouting, he thought they were cheering him on. What he had perceived as encouragement inspired him to try harder and to succeed against all odds.
This simple story contains a powerful lesson.
"There is death and life in the power of the tongue."
Your encouraging words can lift someone up and help them make it through the day. Your destructive words can cause deep wounds; they may be the weapons that destroy someones desire to continue trying -- or even their life.
Your destructive, careless word can diminish someone in the eyes of others, destroy their influence and have a lasting impact on the way others respond to them. Be careful what you say. Speak life to (and about) those who cross your path. There is enormous power in words. If you have words of kindness, praise or encouragement -- speak them now to, and about, others. Listen to your heart and respond.
Someone, somewhere, is waiting for your words.
This is so true, we either empower or destroy with our words.
Are you aware of what you say?
Which of the two do you do most of the time?

What The Judge Told The "Shoe Bomber"

by: Author Unknown,

Ruling by U.S. District Court Judge William Young(Judge Young made the following statement in sentencing "shoe bomber" Richard Reid to prison. It is noteworthy, and deserves to be remembered far longer than he predicts).-----January 30, 2003 United States vs. Reid. Judge Young: Mr. Richard C. Reid, hearken now to the sentence the Court imposes upon you.

On counts 1, 5 and 6 the Court sentences you to life in prison in the custody of the United States Attorney General.

On counts 2, 3, 4 and 7, the Court sentences you to 20 years in prison on each count, the sentence on each count to run consecutive with the other. That's 80 years.

On count 8 the Court sentences you to the mandatory 30 years consecutive to the 80 years just imposed. The Court imposes upon you each of the eight counts a fine of $250,000 for the aggregate fine of $2 million.

The Court accepts the government's recommendation with respect to restitution and orders restitution in the amount of $298.17 to Andre Bousquet and $5,784 to American Airlines.The Court imposes upon you the $800 special assessment.

The Court imposes upon you five years supervised release simply because the law requires it. But the life sentences are real life sentences so I need go no further.

This is the sentence that is provided for by our statues. It is a fair and just sentence. It is a righteous sentence.Let me explain this to you.We are not afraid of any of your terrorist co-conspirators, Mr. Reid. We are Americans. We have been through the fire before. There is all too much war talk here. And I say that to everyone with the utmost respect.Here in this court , where we deal with individuals as individuals, and care for individuals as individuals, as human beings we reach out for justice, you are not an enemy combatant. You are a terrorist. You are not a soldier in any war. You are a terrorist. To give you that reference, to call you a soldier gives you far too much stature. Whether it is the officers of government who do it or your attorney who does it, or that happens to be your view, you are a terrorist.

And we do not negotiate with terrorists. We do not treat with terrorists. We do not sign documents with terrorists. We hunt them down one by one and bring them to justice.

So war talk is way out of line in this court. You are a big fellow. But you are not that big. You're no warrior. I know warriors. You are a terrorist. A species of criminal guilty of multiple attempted murders.

In a very real sense Trooper Santigo had it right when you first were taken off that plane and into custody and you wondered where the press and where the TV crews were and he said you're no big deal. You're no big deal.

What your counsel, what your able counsel and what the equally able United States attorneys have grappled with and what I have as honestly as I know how tried to grapple with, is why you did something so horrific. What was it that led you here to this courtroom today? I have listened respectfully to what you have to say. And I ask you to search your heart and ask yourself what sort of unfathomable hate led you to do what you are guilty and admit you are guilty of doing. And I have an answer for you. It may not satisfy you. But as I search this entire record it comes as close to understanding as I know.

It seems to me you hate the one thing that is most precious. You hate our freedom. Our individual freedom. Our individual freedom to live as we choose, to come and go as we choose, to believe or not believe as we individually choose.

Here, in this society, the very winds carry freedom. They carry it everywhere from sea to shining sea. It is because we prize individual freedom so much that you are here in this beautiful courtroom. So that everyone can see, truly see that justice is administered fairly, individually, and discretely.It is for freedom's sake that your lawyers are striving so vigorously on your behalf and have filed appeals, will go on in their, their representation of you before other judges. We are about it. Because we all know that the way we treat you, Mr. Reid, is the measure of our own liberties. Make no mistake though. It is yet true that we will bear any burden, pay any price, to preserve our freedoms.Look around this courtroom. Mark it well. The world is not going to long remember what you or I say here. Day after tomorrow it will be forgotten. But this, however, will long endure. Here in this courtroom and courtrooms all across America, the American people will gather to see that justice, individual justice, justice, not war, individual justice is in fact being done.

The very President of the United States through his officers will have to come into courtrooms and lay out evidence on which specific matters can be judged, and juries of citizens will gather to sit and judge that evidence democratically, to mold and shape and refine our sense of justice.

See that flag, Mr. Reid? That's the flag of the United States of America. That flag will fly there long after this is all forgotten. That flag stands for freedom. You know it always will.Custody Mr. Officer. Stand him down.

Big Difference

by: Author Unknown

The Boss drives his men, The Leader inspires them..

The Boss depends on authority, The Leader depends on goodwill..

The Boss evokes fear, The Leader radiates love..

The Boss says "I", The Leader says "We"..

The Boss shows who is wrong, The Leader shows what is wrong..

The Boss knows how it is done, The Leader knows how to do it..

The Boss demands respect, The Leader commands respect

Serious Business

by: Author Unknown,

Let me take you back a couple years. Come with me as we relearn a lesson; one that has stuck with me, in my present memory, and inspires me yet. I don't remember exact conversation, but bear with me as I supply something that would sound normal.
We walk into Elida Road Hardware. An old fashioned hardware store. No automatic door, not a computer in the building. Nothing unusual about the day, or the fact that we go to that store. It is one that I go to fairly often. As we enter the door, two sounds greet us. The sleigh bells of yesteryear, the ones that make that sweet, peaceful tinkle as we open the door. The other sound is the electronic beeper that alerts Andy of our presence.
"Good afternoon, Ryan," comes the cheerful acknowledgment. Andy Bianco is a very friendly sort of proprietor. He is of medium build and height, we'll say about 50, and the smile on his face welcomes us.
We walk across the old wood floor -- destitute of stain or varnish, and worn smooth -- with its squeaky spots, and uneven joints. Andy asks us what he can help us with. I tell him we are looking for a spring. He very patiently replies "I carry lots of springs, you're going to need to be more specific."
"Beats me what they're called; just a spring for an old-fashioned screen door."
"That's it. A screen door spring. Right down there." We turn to where he is pointing, and sure enough, there they are. Andy knows his store, and his products. That's why I come here instead of Meijer. The service can't be beat. The price, Yes. But service and satisfaction; No.
I pick up one and follow him to the counter. A keg of peanuts sits beside the counter, and beside it, another for the hulls. Let me know when Lowes does that. Covering the counter is a piece of Plexiglas, and under it, all manner of business cards.
"Hey got a card? Put one under here. Free advertising space."
"Thanks Andy, but I already have one. See, over here."
"Well, I'll be; you do."
He figures up the price, doing the math in his head. "$1.88, with Uncle Sam's share comes to $1.99"
"Put it on Pop's account."
He nods and smiles, remembering that this is the third item this week that received that verdict.
"Good ole' Pop's account." He chuckles. "I don't know what you boys would do without Pop's account!"
He hands me the ticket and as I sign it I ask rhetorically, "You really trust my signature?"
His reply startles, yet gladdens me. "When I can't trust Jerry Hoover's boys; I can't trust nobody!"
We leave, and the brain immediately starts to forget things, in order of importance. But what Andy Bianco said that day, rang in my ears. And it rings in my ears today. That's a tall order to live up to. It's a high standard of integrity. My father made a reputation for that name, and I get to enjoy the benefits thereof. But by the same token, I must maintain that reputation. And that's serious business.

A Little Fellow Follows Me

by: Author Unknown,

A careful man I ought to be,

A little fellow follows me.

I dare not go astray,

For fear he'll go the self-same way.
I cannot once escape his eyes,

Whatever he see me do, he tries.

Like me, he says, he's going to be,

The little chap who follows me.
He thinks that I am good and fine,

Believes in every word of mine.

The base in me he must not see,That little fellow who follows me.
I must remember as I go,Thru summers' sun and winters' snow.

I am building for the years to be,

In the little chap who follows me.

A World of Smile

by: Author Unknown,

About ten years ago when I was an undergraduate in college, I was working as an intern at my University's Museum of Natural History. One day while working at the cash register in the gift shop, I saw an elderly couple come in with a little girl in a wheelchair.
As I looked closer at this girl, I saw that she was kind of perched on her chair. I then realized she had no arms or legs, just a head, neck and torso. She was wearing a little white dress with red polka dots.
As the couple wheeled her up to me I was looking down at the register. I turned my head toward the girl and gave her a wink. As I took the money from her grandparents, I looked back at the girl, who was giving me the cutest, largest smile I have ever seen. All of a sudden her handicap was gone and all I saw was this beautiful girl, whose smile just melted me and almost instantly gave me a completely new sense of what life is all about. She took me from a poor, unhappy college student and brought me into her world; a world of smiles, love and warmth.
That was ten years ago. I'm a successful business person now and whenever I get down and think about the troubles of the world, I think about that little girl and the remarkable lesson about life that she taught me.

A Letter From Home

by: Author Unknown,

I had a safe trip. The angels carried me safely into Father Abraham's bosom. Oh, the thrill I felt when I met the one that died for me!
And no matter what you've heard, there's just no words to describe the glories that surround him. I'm satisfied here; every need's been supplied. Just wait till you see my new home.
I'm satisfied because there's no sin here, no murders, no divorce, no abortions, and no need to ever have locks on the doors. Perfect peace reigns here. I'm satisfied because there's no sickness. Why, I've never felt better in my life! I have a brand new body just like Jesus.
And oh, I wish you could hear the singing. David played his harp today, and a great crowd gathered by the river of life and sang a new song. Of course, the angels couldn't sing that song, but they sure were listening. It's really wonderful here, because there are no strangers. Everyone knows me by name.
Why, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego showed me around. Seems like I've been here forever. The weather is great. There's a cool breeze blowing all the time. And you know one of the nicest things, night and darkness never comes. It's light here all the time, for Jesus himself is the light of the city.
Please, remember, I'm safe, I'm satisfied, and I'm not sick anymore. There will be no need for me to write again, because I was told today that nothing here ever changes. In closing, the only thing that would make this wonderful place more complete is for all my family and friends to join me here in Heaven.

The Vessel

by: Author Unknown,

The Master was searching for a vessel to use; On the shelf there were many - which one would He choose? "Take me", cried the gold one, "I'm shiny and bright, I'm of great value and I do things just right. My beauty and luster will outshine the rest And for someone like You, Master, gold would be the best!"
The Master passed on with no word at all; He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall; "I'll serve You, dear Master, I'll pour out Your drink, and I'll be at Your table whenever You dine, My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true, And my silver will always compliment You."
Unheeding the Master passed on to the brass, It was wide mouthed and shallow, and polished like glass. "Here! Here!" cried the vessel, "I know I will do, Place me on Your table for all men to view."
"Look at me", called the goblet of crystal so clear, "My transparency shows my contents so dear, Though fragile am I, I will serve You with pride, And I'm sure I'll be happy in Your house to abide."
The Master came next to a vessel of wood, Polished and carved, it solidly stood. "You may use me, dear Master", the wooden bowl said, "But I'd rather You used me for fruit, not for Bread!"
Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay. Empty and broken it helplessly lay. No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose, To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.
"Ah! This is the vessel I've been hoping to find, I will mend and use it and make it all Mine." "I need not the vessel with pride of its self; Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf; Nor the one who is big mouthed and shallow and loud; Nor one who displays his contents so proud; Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right; But this plain earthy vessel filled with My power and might."
Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay. Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day. Spoke to it kindly. "There's work you must do, Just pour out to others as I pour into you."

Success

by: Author Unknown,

Success is speaking words of praise,

In cheering other people's ways.

In doing just the best you can,

With every task and every plan.

It's silence when your speech would hurt,

Politeness when your neighbor's curt.

It's deafness when the scandal flows,

And sympathy with others' woes.

It's loyalty when duty calls,

It's courage when disaster falls.

It's patience when the hours are long,

It's found in laughter and in song.

It's in the silent time of prayer,

In happiness and in despair.

In all of life and nothing less,

We find the thing we call success.

The Diploma

by: Author Unknown,

I was exhausted from working my two jobs over the weekend and was not looking forward to the graduation ceremony. I have been to many graduations and I know how boring they are for most people. To top everything off, my wife and I had our two kids under the age of three with us. Both of the kids were squirming and whining, and I knew it was going to be a long afternoon. Our sole comic relief came when my three-year-old patted and rubbed the head of a bald man we did not know in front of us. As the ceremony dragged on I kept thinking of all the places I would rather be, and made up my mind that I wasn't going to enjoy myself.
It was your ordinary graduation ceremony: a hot, sweaty auditorium filled with people fanning themselves with their programs, listening to speech upon boring speech, and the endless calling of names as each matriculator walked across the stage to grab this piece of paper that symbolized his or her academic accomplishment. It was getting harder and harder to pay attention. Just as my attitude started to go sour, they began calling out the graduate's names. The classmates formed a single file line and made their way up towards the podium.
That's when I caught my first close-up glimpse of Kim. She looked up at us and was trying in vain to hold back the tears. She was not doing a good job of it. Believe me, holding back emotions is not something that Kim does very well. There she was, standing in line, about to receive her diploma, and she was probably thinking about a number of things. Maybe her dad who passed away a few years ago and didn't get to see her reach her goal, or her grandmother, who also passed away recently, and who had always wanted to attend college, but her family didn't have the money... For me it was like something from a movie. You know, the dramatic slow motion scene where all the crowd noise grows quiet, and the camera slowly moves up on her face as the tears begin to fall. She was a good distance away from us, but to me it was as if she were standing in front of me. That simple act of looking up at those loved ones who had come to watch her graduate, and gently rubbing the tears of joy, accomplishment, and pride out of her eyes really got through to me. The selfishness in me melted away, and I realized why I was there and not somewhere else.
"KIMBERLY ANNE CONWAY, GRADUATING MAGNA CUM LAUDE," came booming over the auditorium's sound system, and she walked gracefully across the huge stage and received this piece of paper that symbolized so many things to her. Then just before she walked off the stage, she turned around towards those who had come to share the day with her, and, with the brightest smile on her face, waved and grinned at us like a little girl getting on the school bus for the first time.
I glanced at my wife, and saw the tear-drops roll gently down as the love she had for her sister manifested itself on her face.
You see, Kim is not your ordinary college graduate. She is thirty- eight years old, and has stuck with her goal of graduating from college for the past twenty years. It's not like she is going to look back on that part of her life, sigh, and say, "College... the best twenty years of my life!"
She attended college while working full time, and she studied extremely hard, especially the past couple of years as she pushed toward her goal of a college degree. Many times she felt like quitting, and, if it weren't for her support group of other nontraditional students that cared for her, she would have given up on her goal. Many times she would call one of the other students she knew and tell them she wanted to quit, and would be talked out of it. Then a while later this student would call her and say she wanted to quit and Kim would talk her out of it... (Luckily, they both didn't want to quit at the same time!)
I have the utmost respect for Kim. It takes a special person to stick with a goal as long as she has. I attended college for three years when I got out of high school, but I stopped when I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life. Many times I have looked back and wished that I had stuck with it and gone on to be a high school teacher. If for no other reason, I wish I had finished something that I had started.
I know what it feels like to walk out of that last final exam of the semester, breathe in the fresh air just outside the doors of the university, and feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders for at least a little while. I can't even begin to imagine what it felt like for Kim after so many years...
I love you, Kim, and I want you to know that I admire you for that symbolic piece of paper that will soon adorn a wall in your house.
In the words of Caleb, my three-year-old: "HAPPY GRADULATION, AUNT KIMMY!"