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Christmas Miracle continued...
As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.
"Oh, yes, Santa... I do!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'm going to ask angels watch over you." he said. Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that, God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing, softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night....all is calm, all is bright." The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all.
When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own. "Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at McAllister Mall this time next year!"
He knew it was risky proclaiming that to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or toys -- but the gift of HOPE.
"Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.
Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him.
"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "This is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged him.
One year later, Santa was again back on the set in Saint John for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa! Remember me?!"
"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.
"You came to see me in the hospital last year!"
Santa's jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy -- much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus.
He had witnessed --and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope. This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!
@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
Because of him ...
One day in Elementary school a couple of girls were teasing me. A young boy walked up to them and poliety asked them to stop, and they all walked away. The boy and girl became good friends. One day they were playing together in the schoolyard when a small dog walked into the school grounds. The boy checked the collar. "Misty" is what it read. He helped to get it out of the gate so it wouldn't get takenway. The very next day my mother got a call from my grandpa telling her that my grandma had fallen. When we got to the hospital, my grandmother told me that a dog saved her by getting Grandpa's attention by barking. When my grandma finally got back from the hospital I found out that it was Misty who had saved my grandmother. The next day at school we found out that the boy, had died in a car accident. At his funeral I met one of his cousins who became a good friend of mine. When we were leaving the funeral the boy asked me for my number. It took a minute to give it to him.
On our way home we passed a horrible accident where a tree had fallen on top of a car. The police who helped us through told us that the accident had happened only 5 minutes earlier, the same time as how long it took to give the boy my number. One year later I was in middle school, and I met a girl who told me her mother had passed away in a tragic tree accident, so they had moved out to where we lived. The girl and me also became good friends. One night it highschool we were having a sleepover when a tornado struck the area. I had never been in a tornado before, but the girl had, and she helped me survive.
I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that first boy who took one moment to stop bullying, and that girl wouldn't have been my best friend.
The moral of my story is: take one moment to show a little bit of kindness, you never know how much it could do.
@american
Success
In the eyes of the world I am not seen as much of a success. I live with my cousin. I don't have a house nor a mansion. My parents buy my cloths or I won't wear fancy clothes. I drive a car that was bought for me, I don't have a plane, or a yacht. My bank account is always empty if I don't get paid to deposit money there at the end of the month. I am not a CEO of a corporation. I haven't made a movie, won a Grammy, or sold a million books. I am not famous. My picture has never been on a magazine cover. I have never had my own reality television show. Yet, in spite of all of this there are many times when I do feel like a success.
When my mom gives me a hug and says: "I love you Hun", I feel like a success. When my dog walks over to me, puts his head on my lap, and looks up at me with his adoring brown eyes, I feel like a success. When I share a laugh with the cashier in the grocery store, I feel like a success. When I give my smile to a stranger I am walking by and find my gift returned, I feel like a success. When I send what few dollars I can to a charity and know that I am helping someone in need, I feel like a success. When I get a letter from someone who has been touched by the simple stories I write, I feel like a success. When I have fun with my friends online and laugh from bottom of my heart, I feel like a success. When I remember that God loves me in spite of all my faults and failings, I feel like a success.
Perhaps what this world needs is a redefining of what success really is. Perhaps this world needs to recognize that fame fades, money is soon spent, power never lasts, and material things always turn to dust. Perhaps this world needs to see that the most successful life of all is one where you love God, yourself, and others. Perhaps we all need to realize that a successful life in the eyes of the world isn't always a successful life in the eyes of Heaven.
May you always see the success in your own life. May you always be a success in loving, giving, caring, and sharing. And may you always succeed in making God smile.
@american
Footprints On The Sand
One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.
This bothered him so he questioned the Lord about it: "Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."
The Lord replied: "My son, my precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, I was carrying you."
@american
The Beauty of the Spirit!
I was walking towards the store when I first saw her. She was between eighty and ninety years old. Her hair was thin, sparse, and as white as the snow on the sidewalk outside. Her face was red, chapped, and wrinkled from a lifetime of use. Her mouth was missing most of its teeth. Her gnarled hands each carried a bag full of groceries. She wore work boots that had clearly seen better days. As she shuffled slowly towards the door she stopped only once to put down her bags and button her thin, wool jacket.
I hurried my pace and opened the door for her. She smiled at me with her few remaining teeth and said, "Thank you kid." I touched my hair and smiled at being thought of as a kid again. Then I watched as this ancient angel slowly walked to the food drive collection bin, there are food drive bins all over my city. People buy groceries and leave them in the bins for the less fortunate to come and pick up what they need for their daily consumption. She lifted the heavier of her two bags up and put the food inside the bin. She made one last stop on her way out to say "hi" to a young mother she knew. The mother had her baby girl in her arms and the elderly woman gently reached down and tickled the child under her chin. The little girl laughed with joy and kicked her feet. The old lady laughed as well in her cracked voice and then continued happily on her way. I stood there watching her and thought to myself: "That was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
I am so thankful to God for teaching me over the years how to see clearly. I no longer look at the world through the eyes of society with its plastic surgery view of what is beautiful and what is not. God has showed me through His love, His grace, and His guidance to see with the eyes of my soul and to recognize the beauty of the spirit in each of us.
I hope that lovely old woman continues to touch others with her gentleness, kindness, and joy for years to come. May her beauty, love, and light shine bright on Earth and in Heaven.
@american
The Greatest Adventure Of All
When I was a little girl I used to love those nights when my Mom would read me a story before bed. I would be warm under my blankets while my Mom's soothing voice would take me on an adventure to another world. As I got older I soon started taking those magical adventures myself. There seemed to be so many books and so little time to read them all. I journeyed along with Bilbo and Frodo in "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings." I walked excitedly into the closet with the kids in "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." I traveled into outer space and went on quests with the Knights of the round table. I journeyed to the center of the Earth and swung through the trees with Tarzan. I fought in the battle of Troy and the traveled on the voyages of Ulysses. I went on thousands of great adventures all from the safety of my chair and comfort of my bed.
As I grew into adulthood, however, I came to realize something very important: the greatest adventure of all is the life you live here. Living your life with compassion, kindness, laughter and joy day by day and moment by moment is more exciting than the best book. Putting your heart on the line in the real world takes far more courage than putting your life on the line in some make believe fantasy. Offering hugs, sharing smiles, giving your love and help to others may seem like little things in a book's plot line, but in life they are the things that help to make the world a better, more Heavenly place.
I will always love books and the adventures they bring to the heart and mind, but I will also forever embrace the greatest adventure of all. God put us here in this world to live, to learn, and to love. What greater quest than to do so every single day of our lives? What greater adventure than to become the people God meant for us to be?
@american
A Blessing in Disguise!
The rain poured down on the car stopped by the side of the road. I had made my aunt pull over a few minutes earlier when her tears had made it impossible for her to drive. My own heart ached with pain and my eyes were wet with tears too. It was the worst moment of our lives. I held her in my arms for a long time while the Heavens seemed to cry with us.
We had just come from a specialist office in a big hospital. We had taken my firstborn cousin there to be tested. He was nearing 3 years old and hadn't started to talk yet. He also had displayed behaviors that weren't normal. After a long wait and longer tests the Doctor told us that there was definitely something wrong although he couldn't say what it was. He recommended more tests. We drove away in silence. I could see the hurt in my aunt's eyes as she tried to hold back the coming tears. All she had wanted was a "normal" little boy. Finally as the rain began to fall outside the car our tears began to fall inside it.
We sat there for the longest time crying and feeling powerless and unsure of what to do next. After a while the clouds parted and the sun began to shine again. I looked back at my little cousin in his carseat and he smiled happily back at me. My family knew then that we had to go on no matter what the road ahead of us may hold.
My cousin was later diagnosed with Autism and mental retardation. He was five years old before he finally began to speak in sentences. Although he learned to talk and read we still knew that he would have to be looked after for the rest of his life. As the years went on, though, I realized that my cousin was not only "special" mentally, but also "special" spiritually. Even with all the limitations and frustrations his handicap gave him, he still managed to give his kindness, love, and enthusiasm to everyone around him. He remembered people he met and called them by name. He gave out hugs as easily as the rest of us gave out "hi's".
He went through his days with a ready smile and a simple joy that were contagious. He gave up the role of "eldest child" to his younger "normal" sister, but still helped to look after his younger brother who had been born with an even more severe form of Autism. He became more than just my cousin. He became my friend. He became my helper. He became my teacher in how to live and in how to give. He became my inspiration on how to love and be happy in that love. He and his brother both became beautiful blessings in disguise.
As I look back on the years my cousins and I have spent together and look forward to the times that lie ahead of us, I once again thank God for giving them to me. My first cousin and his younger brother have both done what everyone of us longs to do: they have made this world a better and more beautiful place just by being in it. They have touched countless hearts with their love, laughter, and joy and they will undoubtedly touch countless more.
Many people look upon the mentally handicapped as something less than human. I now see them as something more. They have inside of them a deeper love, joy, and connection to God than the rest of us. And while we take care of them we should also take the time to learn from them as well. They truly are all blessings in disguise and while they sometimes bring us tears of sadness, they more often bring us tears of joy.
@american
Chopping Woods ...
When I was growing up my Dad would often give me chores to do to help out around the house. Some were easy but the three I remember the most were the three toughest of all. The first was helping to weed the several gardens we had. It was tedious work and we had gardeners, but Dad wanted me to chip in and help. I would much rather have been riding my bike than crawling in the dirt on my hands and knees pulling the thousands of weeds that choked our gardens.
The second was stacking firewood for Winter. It was tough work and I got more than my share of splinters. I would much rather have been walking in the woods than stacking it in rows.
The third was hauling water from a mountain spring passing through our house, because the water was almost sweet and our neighbors even came to fetch water from our spring. It was a hard job carrying five gallon jugs. I would much rather have been playing basketball than carrying them.
Over the years, though, I learned to see the rewards in all the things Dad made me do. Having fresh vegetables for dinner was a delicious delight. Enjoying a cold glass of iced tea made from the mountain spring water was a pure pleasure. Standing by the wood stove on a snowy December day was a wonderful way to warm up. I saw as well that all this work Dad had given me had gradually made me a better, stronger, and more caring person. Most of all, I realized that when I did my work with a happy heart it didn't feel like work at all.
Over the years I have learned something else too. When we do the work of our Heavenly Father with a loving spirit it doesn't feel like work either. It feels like joy. Every act of kindness, word of encouragement, and gift of love we share will only make our lives better, make our hearts happier, and bring our souls closer to Heaven.
I am so grateful then to both my Dad and my Father in Heaven. They showed me the value of work and more importantly they showed me the pricelessness of love.
@american
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