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A Christmas Miracle of Hope...
Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at the McAllister Mall in Saint John . The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.
Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your friend?
"Yes, Santa,' he replied."My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.
Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.
When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.
"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but.." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.
"The girl in the photograph... my granddaughter well, you see ... she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa, any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "This is the least I can do."
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to the Hospital.
"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.
"C' mon .....I'll take you there." Rick said softly. Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa.
They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said, he would wait out in the hall.
Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah in the bed.
The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with a weary sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.
Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, Ho, Ho!"
"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah, weakly as she tried to escape her bed to run to him IV tubes intact.
Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug.
A child the tender age of his own son (9), gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But, all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of, huge blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.
As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering "Thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year.
A Christmas Miracle Continued...
@american
Happy Nowruz!
Come, fill the Cup in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly— Lo! the Bird is on the Wing
Omar Khayyam
@american
What's your religion? Mine is love
I don't like getting pushed around for being a Catholic, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat...
Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking. In light of recent events... terrorists attack, school shootings, etc.. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school... The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.
Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about.. And we said okay..
Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.
Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.'
Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
Are you laughing yet?
Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
Talk about this, if you think it has merit. If not, then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
@american
Moonpie
Over the last few months I have once again been reminded of two things: God has a sense of humor and God knows how to heal a hurting heart. It all started a few weeks after the death of our beloved dog. At the time I was in mourning and had no intention of adding yet another pet to a house still crowded with 1 dog, 1 cat, and a turtle with a bad attitude. Little was I to know, however, that God had other plans. That very day my cousin came home from her walk carrying a small, sad-eyed bag of bones in her arms. She had rescued the poor, limping puppy after it had almost gotten hit by a car.
I knew that I would have to take this little dog into my home at least while we looked for her owners. I was worried too that she might not be easily accepted by our other dog and cat and the turtle. Instead she quickly and happily took over the entire house. With a curious combination of cuteness and rambunctiousness she made us all laugh and love her at the same time. Her leg quickly healed. She put on weight and soaked up the love and attention we gave her like a sponge. Soon she was sharing my bed, bringing out the playful puppy in our older dog, chewing on my shoes, and touching my soul as well. She showed me something we all should know: the best way to heal is to open your heart and love again.
No one ever claimed this 4 legged angel so she joyfully made her home in our house and in our hearts. We named her "Moonpie" because she was as sweet as the dessert. She was also ornery, full of energy, and more than a handful at times. Still, I thank God for bringing her into our lives. He knew just what we needed and just when we needed it. Thanks to little "Moony" our hearts have been healed and our days are even more full of love. And I am sure too that when we laugh at her antics, God and the angels are laughing with us.
@american
@american
On your travels through this world remember that you never walk alone.
@american
Humility and the Hitchhiker!
I never pick up hitch-hikers as a rule. I don't know what moved me to do so today. I was heading from North 5 to Valencia and he was just outside of North 5 Freeway. He jumped in and said "thanks for stopping".
As we were conversing, I noticed he reeked of booze. I also noticed his wrinkled, sun darkened face, his shoddy hair and clothes, unshaven face, and only the clothes on his back.
But what I noticed most was his piercing, large blue eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and I believe it, if you look closely, you can pretty much tell the kind of soul a person has through their eyes. His eyes were almost indescribable. They were so mesmerizing, not an ounce of hate in them. Looking at his very rough exterior, I could tell he'd been down a very hard road. Somehow, despite the road he had been down, there was no hate in his eyes...only love.
I recently had bought a pack of cigarettes wanting to see what they taste like, I asked him if he wanted a smoke, and he said yes, so I gave him my unopened pack, then I let him keep the whole pack, for which he seemed genuinely grateful for. I started asking him where he was from, where he was headed, does he have family, etc. He proceeded to tell me he had been on the road for 6 days, coming from Arizona where he had recently had a heart attack and heart surgery. He was pretty much healed up but couldn't find work. He had his bed roll and backpack stolen in Colorado. He was heading back to his birthplace of Kansas City, Mo. He said he lost his wife to a brain tumor 10 years ago, and she is buried in Norman, Oklahoma. He said he never had kids because his wife couldn't have any. He had no family aside from cousins, whom he'd lost, touch with over the years. We talked the rest of the way about politics, and other superficial stuff, all the while, my gut was telling me there was something about this guy that I couldn't put my finger on, but it was something special.
The whole time I was kind of reflecting on my own life. I mean, here is a homeless man that just had heart surgery, but was smoking and drinking.
So we get to Valencia and I say "well, this is the end of my line." He says, "I really appreciate the ride and the cigarettes." To which I replied, “no problem, when we stop, I'm going to give you some money too." (A decision I had subconsciously made miles back down the road.) He said thank you, I can get a cup of coffee or something.
I would like to clarify at this point, my whole reason for telling this story. It's not that I want a pat on the back...could care less about that. It's not that I felt sorry for the guy, although I definitely empathized with him. I have over the years, on many occasions given food and/or money to homeless people. Again, no pat on back wanted or needed. On many of those occasions, it was quite obvious that said homeless person was going to drink the money right up. The Bible says something to the effect of "give with your right hand, and don't tell your left hand." To me, that means don't gloat. It means do the right things for the right reasons without expecting anything in return. That is something my parents deserve credit for.
As I mentioned, I told him I was going to give him some money. I was thinking maybe $20 bucks. When I reached in my wallet, something compelled me to pull out a $50 dollar bill. I handed him the 50, and he looked at me with those piercing blue eyes surrounded by that weathered face with a look of astonishment that I can't describe, but I found myself fighting back tears. He was obviously both surprised and genuinely grateful. He struggled to say thank you, and he shook my hand. He got out of the vehicle and before he shut the door he looked at me with those eyes again, as if he was looking into MY soul, and said, " thanks again, you really don't know what this means to me." I said, “you have no idea what it means to me!"
Continued...
@american
Memories of my Nana!
Memory is often the source of our greatest joys as well as our deepest regrets. I cherish every memory I have of my grandma Nana, but at the same time I regret no longer being able to create new ones with her. My Nana left this world when I was only 17 years old. I was far too young and foolish then to realize what a blessing every moment with her was. I never got a chance to say, "Thank You" to her for all of them.
All I can do now then is to share these memories with you and pray that Nana will be reading this as well by God's side in Heaven. I also pray that you too will take today to thank all those who bless your life with their love.
Nana, I remember all of those little bowls of cereal you would bring me as a bedtime snack when I was a little girl. I remember all of those stories you would read to me before bed and how safe and loved I felt when you tucked me in at night.
Nana, I remember you showing me how to pop popcorn in our old cast iron skillet, how you smiled when I sometimes burned it, and how we would share it out of a big bowl when we watched TV together.
Nana, I remember how scared you were when I wrecked my bicycle and split my head open. I remember you rushing me to the hospital for stitches and calming me even though you were more frightened than I was. I remember too another time in the hospital when I woke up alone and terrified after having my tonsils taken out only to see you sitting by my side with a bowl of ice cream.
Nana, I remember the time you spanked my butt when I took something that didn't belong to me and I remember looking into your eyes after it was done and seeing that it hurt you more than it hurt me.
Nana, I remember when you spent hours walking with me searching for my dog, Rocky, when he ran away. You never let me lose hope. I remember too you putting him in my bed after he finally found his own way home.
Nana, I remember every time you inspired me to work hard, do good in school, and go on to college. I also remember all those boxes of food you and Dad would bring to me when I was in college. You always kept my stomach full and my mind hungry.
Nana, I remember you teaching me to drive even though I nearly scared you to death when I got behind the wheel. You taught me well and never gave up, even when it cost you a scratched bumper and a few more gray hairs.
Nana, I remember you crying with joy the first time I ever wrote something about how much you meant to me. It was the best encouragement this writer ever got.
Nana, I remember all the lessons you taught me about patience, humor, and courage when you faced your long battle with cancer. It may have finally taken your body, but it never got your spirit. I also remember how you always ended our phone calls those last years of your life with those three words that live on inside of me today: "I Love You!"
Nana, I would give everything I have for just one more hug from you. You gave me so much love. You helped make my heart and soul what they are today. I love you and will continue to love you more every single day of my life.
@american
@american
The Secret Ingredient
My German Grandmother's spaghetti sauce was a wonder to behold. After church on Sundays our family would always gather around for a huge dinner that was more a feast than a meal. For hours before, the smell of the simmering sauce would fill the house and I would breathe in deep with delight. My Nana would slowly cook German sausages, meatballs, potatoes, and pieces of chicken in it too. Then she would boil enough spaghetti to feed a small army and slice the loaves of German bread she had baked earlier. When I finally sat down at the table I could feel my tastebuds jumping for joy in my mouth.
By the time dinner was done both my stomach and my heart would be full of happiness.
For years I tried to duplicate my Nana's recipe but was never able to get it exactly right. I would always measure out just the right amounts of garlic, parsley, bay leaves, salt, sugar, pepper, and olive oil to add to the tomato sauce. I would simmer it slowly and stir it with care, but it never came out as good as hers. Finally one day it dawned on me that I was missing the secret ingredient that made hers so special: LOVE.
You see, Nana always served her spaghetti with a big smile, a gentle hug, and the loving words: "Essen! Essen!" Which means "Eat! Eat!" I could always taste her love for us in every bite.
Love is the secret ingredient in life too. The more you love the more your life will taste like joy. The more love you give to others the more your days will become a feast of happiness that never ends. The more love you share the more you become like the greatest chef of all: God.
I think that I will try my hand at making Nana's sauce again this week. It may never taste as good as hers, but cooking it will bring back the memories of her love and laughter. And while I am slowly stirring it I may even feel her and God smiling down on me from Heaven.
@american
@american
Happy Nowroz from our House to Yours!
I remembered Christmas this morning. I guess bc of the Iranian NewYear. Nowroz like Christmas is a time of great faith, hope, and love. As you get older it is also a time of cherishing wonderful memories. This happened to me as I was sitting quietly listening to some Persian Songs one of my Admins has sent to me carols today. Although I didn't understand the lyrics, but I relaxed, closed my eyelids and felt my eyes tear up under them as I allowed the flood of childhood, Christmas memories to wash over me once again.
I remembered how we were a happy family by today's standards. We lived in my Grandparents' house that was a combination of two shanty cars and several huge rooms that my Dad later built on. Yet, we were so rich in all the important things in life.
I remembered getting up on a bitingly cold, December morning and watching my Dad build a fire in the fireplace and the stove. I remembered pulling on my winter coat and warming myself by the fire before heading outside with my Dad and cousins to chop down a Christmas tree. I remembered Dad letting me pick the scraggliest, ugliest looking tree over my cousins' objections and how the limbs could barely support the ornaments and lights when we decorated it.
I remembered watching my grandmother, "Nanny," slowly pulling her ancient Nativity scene out of a box and putting it under the tree with such reverence, gentleness, and tenderness.
I remembered too the kiss she gave the baby Jesus before placing him in the manger.
I remembered listening to my Mom sing along with the Christmas carols on the radio while she decorated the house. I also remembered the beautiful look of pure peace and happiness she would get on her face whenever she sang, "Silent Night."
I remembered the note my Mom and Dad wrote for Santa and put on our front door, because I was worried that he would skip our house while we were at midnight Mass. I remembered as well trying to stay awake for the whole midnight service at our Church, but falling asleep on my Mom's lap instead.
I remembered the German-American and some Iranian Christmas dinner where freshly baked bread was served along with the turkey, Pasta Fasul was served along with the mashed potatoes, and you could get Provolone cheese as well as pumpkin pie, and rice with some berries.
I remembered the eager anticipation of waiting to open my presents on Christmas morning. They were a lot in number and very expensive, and they always brought joy to my young girl's heart. I remembered playing with them too for months and sometimes years to come.
Most of all, though, I remembered the unwavering love in that house. It made everyday feel like Christmas. It was there in our hugs and smiles, laugher and tears, arguments and agreements, triumphs and tragedies. Even when that house burned down, the love remained. It gave me a hint of the Love that God has for us all. With it we felt like the wealthiest family in the whole world.
Nana has passed on to Heaven now, but the memories of my family's love at Christmastime and all through the year live on in my heart and mind.
It is like what the great author Leo Buscaglia once wrote: "Love never dies as long as there is someone who remembers." May your life be full of loving memories at This NewYear days, and always. And may you create new ones every single day. Have a very Happy, healthy and prosperous year.
I am sending Love from our house, to yours.
@american
@american
Encyclopedia Britannica
At Encyclopedia Britannica we don't just teach English, but a new life style&culture to fit U right with the natives. Enjoy your new U! We proudly make natives!
@e_britannica
A Teacher's Life Lessons Using A Jar And Some Golf Balls
This is a very important life lesson that a philosophy teacher taught his students.
The teacher cleared off his desk and placed on top of it a few items. One of the items was an empty mason jar. He proceeded to fill up the jar with golf balls until he could fit no more. He looked at the classroom and asked his students if they agree that the jar is full. Every student agreed that the jar was indeed full.
The teacher then picked up a box of small pebbles and poured them into the jar with the golf balls. The pebbles filled all of the openings in between the golf balls. He asked the students if the jar was full. Once again, they agreed.
Now the teacher picked up a bag of sand and poured it into the mason jar. The sand filled in all of the empty space left between the golf balls and pebbles. He asked the class again if the jar was full. The students agreed it was technically full.
Finally, the teacher pulled out two beers from under his desk and poured both of them into the jar filling the empty space between the sand. Now the students began to laugh wondering how far this was going.
The teacher waited until the laughter stopped. "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life," he started. "The golf balls represent the important things. Your family, children, health, friends, and passions. If everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles represent the other things in life that matter, such as your job, house and car. The sand---that is everything else. The small stuff. If you put the sand in first, there is no room for the pebbles or golf balls.
The same goes for life. If you spend all of your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are most important. Pay attention to the important things in your life.
Enjoy time with family. Go to dinner with your spouse. Play games with your kids. There will ALWAYS be time to clean the house or take yourself shopping.
Take care of the golf balls first---the things that really matter. The rest is just sand. You are dismissed."
Before the students left, one shouted out. "You never mentioned what the beer represents!"
The professor smiled and said, "Well I'm glad you asked. The beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room to have a beer with a friend."
@american
@american
Every Step Of The Way
I saw something wonderful the other day. I was on my way to pick up some groceries with my cousin in the car. It was a brisk, sunny day with peak Fall colors blessing the trees and my heart with their beauty. As a car in front of us came to a stop in order to turn off the highway, however, I saw something even more beautiful. A young mother was walking along holding the hand of her toddler. When they reached the safety of an empty church parking lot the mother suddenly let go of her child's hand and watched as the 2 year old joyfully ran ahead as fast as his little feet could carry him.
I smiled when I saw the little guy toddling along with his mom walking behind him. It took me back so many years to the first time I was let go of my own hand by my Mom. My Mom was scared watching me run ahead when I was barely able to walk, but She knew it was time. She had to let them go so I could grow. She had to let me walk, trip, and even hit the dirt knowing that I would get back up, dust myself off, and try again. She had to let me run ahead trusting that at some point I would turn around and run back into her arms.
In a lot of ways we are like those little toddlers. We are Children of God just beginning to walk on our own in this world. While God lovingly watches over us we run ahead, stumble and fall, get back up and try again. We learn how to walk, we learn how to think, we learn how to live, and we learn how to love. And as we journey through this life hopefully we all one day grow wise enough to turn around and run back into our Heavenly Father's loving arms.
On your own travels through this world remember that you never walk alone. God loves you and is walking with you every step of the way. May your every step lead you to greater growth, learning, and love. May your every stride bring you a little closer to Heaven.
@american
@american
Humility and the Hitchhiker
Continued ...
As I drove off I was in tears because I was so touched. You see, I felt as though I just handed myself $50. I always pray that I can be of use to my fellow man, and I believe that God puts people in our lives for a reason. The Bible also says give and you shall receive. What I received today was a small miracle from a homeless man with blue eyes that reminded me there is still some good in this world, that I have a lot to be grateful for. Honestly, I don't think the money or the cigarettes meant nearly as much to him as receiving a smile, and a display of genuine kindness in what can be such a cold, cruel world. I am truly touched, I almost feel like I was looking into the eyes of my higher power. In a sense, I was, because he is out there, all I have to do is look.
@american
All The Little Things
Over the years I have learned that the best lives are built one choice and one change at a time. They are not built on some big triumph or accomplishment but rather on all the little things we choose to do every single day. What are some of these little things that you can do to change your own life? Here are just a few of them.
Say "Good Morning God!" when you wake up everyday. Watch the sunrise. Watch the sunset. Watch the birds flying across the sky. Smell the flowers. Play in the leaves. Make snow angels. Pet your pets. Play with your kids. Pray. Smile at that person in the mirror. Smile at that stranger on the street. Wave. Hug your children. Hug your friends. Hug yourself. Care and sometimes cry. Sing and sometimes dance. Read an uplifting book. Write an uplifting letter. Laugh often. Encourage those around you. Offer to help another. Give a compliment. Pat a back. Shake a hand. Share a kiss. Say "Please." Say "Thank You." Say "Your Welcome." Take a walk. Take a nap. Take a moment to thank God for today. Enjoy a meal. Hum a tune. Whistle while you work. Listen to music. Listen to the birds singing. Listen to people. Be kind. Be compassionate. Do good. Live simply. Give much. Expect nothing in return.
Most of all, though, just love. Choose love. Share love. Learn of love. Grow in love. Pray for love. Delight in love. Become one with God's love. Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. Love yourself. Love everyone else in this world as you love yourself. Love and have joy in that love.
All of these little things build the best life. All of these little choices create a life of love and light. All of these little changes fill you with Heaven and happiness. Try them all. Build a better life, a better you, and a better world.
@american
@american