Something of Value

I recently returned from presenting a workshop in Cincinnati, and when I pulled up to the parking attendant's booth at the airport, I handed him my ticket and he flashed me a huge grin and said, "Hello! That'll be $30.50."

"$30.50?" I echoed, incredulous. "I was only here for 24 hours. I just want to pay for parking-I don't want to buy the place!"

He laughed and said, "Yep, it's $30.50 for 24 hours' parking. So how was your trip? Did you have a good time?"

I was still in a bit of shock at the price, but he was being so friendly that any temptation I had to become frustrated started to fade away. I chatted with him a little about my trip, asked him about his day, and paid my bill, feeling a lot better than I probably would have if he hadn't been so nice.

Now, some people might say that this gentleman had a right to be unhappy and cranky, after all, his job probably isn't always very pleasant. He has to deal with grouchy people who resent paying $30.50 for 24 hours' parking, he has to work in a closed space without much opportunity to move around or get visual stimulation, and he probably doesn't make all that much money. Yet this fellow was giving value unconditionally, without an obvious or immediate payback for doing so.

What he understood, which I try to help others understand, is that the more value you offer unconditionally, the more abundance you'll enjoy. Giving with strings attached creates feelings of fear (What if I don't get a return on what I give?) and lack (I don't have enough to justify giving to others without a clear benefit to me). Giving unconditionally creates feelings of abundance.

People who feel wealthy and blessed and who bring value to their jobs regardless of their pay let the Universe know that they're ready to receive even more wealth. They may get a raise or an unexpected windfall, or they could attract the attention of someone who wants to hire them for a better job. As I drove away from that parking garage, I thought about how much value and enthusiasm that gentleman brings to his work if he is able to deal with grumpy customers all day long and by early evening still have joy to share with others. I thought, I would like to hire that fellow! I wouldn't be at all surprised if he gets a promotion, a raise, or a more lucrative position somewhere, and I imagine that he leads a rich and abundant life outside of his job.

When you give value unconditionally, you'll receive it in return-and the more you give, the more value and abundance you'll receive. People, who offer the minimal amount at their job, always rushing out the door at exactly 5 p.m. and never showing any initiative, are missing the opportunity to create abundance or value and reap the benefits.

There are many ways to offer value. My husband, son, and I live next to a golf course. At the end of the week, Michel will gather up all of the balls in our yard, put them in egg cartons, and sell them to golfers at a fraction of the cost of new ones. When he approaches a potential customer, he'll give them a free ball. Whether or not they decide to buy a dozen from him, this ball is theirs to keep. The golfers feel positive about him and are more inspired to buy a box from him, if not today, then sometime in the future.

You can offer value through creative ideas, suggestions for how to make your company work more efficiently, enthusiasm that inspires others, hard work, diligence and attention to detail, and going the extra mile in a crisis.

If you're thinking of finding different work, or you've been considering making a change for a long time but feel paralyzed and unsure of what to do next, start by creating positive feelings so that you can access your passion and creativity. You'll get clarity about what you want to do next and avoid making the kind of mistakes we commit when we operate from negative feelings such as fear and lack.

You won't jump from one unrewarding job to the next; instead, you'll find new, better opportunities opening up for you in response to the feelings of abundance, enthusiasm, and worthiness you've created. You'll recognize your beneficial purpose, value it, and attract more resources and wealth by giving unconditionally, letting your abundance flow into the Universe, and opening yourself to receive.

Peggy McColl

Peggy McColl is a New York Times Best Selling Author and an internationally recognized expert in the area of goal achievement. She is the author of five books, translated in many languages and sold all over the world.

Pay It Forward

This story is true and it happened to me..

One day after work, I asked my husband to pull into a local store so I could buy some cards and some gifts for our nieces.I got into line to check out behind a man dressed in a suit. I didn't pay much attention but then the woman in front of him started asking directions and he politely gave her all the directions. What caught my attention is that twice he said either God bless you or you have a blessed day.As a Christian, I thought - how refreshing to hear. It was now his turn to check out and he just had a gift bag and a card and tissue and some other small things, buying to wrap someone a gift.But, it seemed he didn't have much cash on him. So he told the cashier to check him out and he'd pay cash for part and part on a credit card. When she checked him out he was a little less than a dollar short and started to scan his credit card. "Stop" I said, "Don't scan your credit card for that dollar" and so I handed the cashier a dollar. He looked over at me and I said "no, it's nothing - I'm just trying to get out of debt and I hate to see anyone using a card for anything." He thanked me and "blessed" me too.

The cashier was surprised. I'm not sure if she was surprised because I did that or because she didn't expect me to help him or if it was because he was in a very nice suit and I was there in jeans and a t-shirt - I'm not sure, but when she gave the little change back from my dollar, she held my hand and told me that that was so unexpected of me and told me that I would be truly blessed for the act I just did. I just smiled and said "well I hope so -I could use some blessings!" So just then she told me my total which was around $6.00. As I reached in my wallet to pay her, a young man behind me said - "Wait! How much was her total?" The cashier told him and he reached in his wallet to pay for mine! I said, "No, you don't need to do that - - mine is much more than what I just dished out to help him." He said no he wanted to pay for mine for what he had just witnessed.

And here all along, I was feeling good by helping someone, but then when he did that, well; it was so unexpected and took me so by surprise. With tears in my eyes, I gave him a hug.I always try to do little things that I can, but have never had anyone do anything like that for me.I was speechless.As I walked to my car just amazed at God's love that had just been shown, I wondered what the cashier must be thinking of what she just witnessed in front of her.I cried when I told my husband because I just felt right there, right then, in a world where there is so much going bad, I witnessed God's love.

I went home that night and blogged about it and challenged anyone reading it to do the same.To do something small for someone else and see the difference it makes in your life as well as theirs.Of course my blog only has a couple of followers, but I had to get this story out! That young gentleman does not know how much he touched my heart by following my example. I'll never forget it.So, why not do something? Pay a toll for the car behind you, offer to pay for someone's item they are checking out, hand a water to someone working on the road, pay for someone's lunch - - it doesn't take much to show the love of God.

Lorraine Niemeyer

Lorraine lives in a little town in Texas with her husband of 16 years. If you would like to view her blog go to: http://www.inspirationawaitsyou.blogspot.com/

The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.

"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.

I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers."

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Kent Nerburn

Entertaining Angels

It was fifty years ago, on a hot summer day, in the deep south.

We lived on a dirt road, on a sand lot. We were, what was known as "dirt poor."

I had been playing outside all morning in the sand. Suddenly, I heard a sharp clanking sound behind me and looking over my shoulder, my eyes were drawn to a strange sight!

Across the dirt road were two rows of men, dressed in black and white, striped, baggy uniforms. Their faces were covered with dust and sweat. They looked so weary, and they were chained together with huge, black, iron chains. Hanging from the end of each chained row was a big, black, iron ball. They were, as polite people said in those days, a "Chain Gang," guarded by two, heavily armed guards.

I stared at the prisoners as they settled uncomfortably down in the dirt, under the shade of some straggly trees.

 

One of the guards walked towards me.

Nodding as he passed, he went up to our front door and knocked. My mother appeared at the door, and I heard the guard ask if he could have permission to get water from the pump, in the backyard, so that "his men" could "have a drink." My mother agreed, but I saw a look of concern on her face, as she called me inside.

I stared through the window as each prisoner was unchained from the line, to hobble over to the pump and drink his fill from a small tin cup, while a guard watched vigilantly. It wasn't long before they were all chained back up again, with prisoners and guards retreating into the shade, away from an unrelenting sun.

I heard my mother call me into the kitchen, and I entered, to see her bustling around with tins of tuna fish, mayonnaise, our last loaf of bread, and two, big, pitchers of lemonade. In what seemed "a blink of an eye," she had made a tray of sandwiches using all the tuna we were to have had for that night's supper.

My mother was smiling as she handed me one of the pitchers of lemonade, cautioning me to carry it "carefully" and to "not spill a drop." Then, lifting the tray in one hand and holding a pitcher in her other hand, she marched me to the door, deftly opening it with her foot, and trotted me across the street.

She approached the guards, flashing them with a brilliant smile.

"We had some leftovers from lunch," she said, "and I was wondering if we could share with you and your men." She smiled at each of the men, searching their dark eyes with her own eyes of "robin's egg blue." Everyone started to their feet. "Oh no!" she said. "Stay where you are! I'll just serve you!"

Calling me to her side, she went from guard to guard, then from prisoner to prisoner - filling each tin cup with lemonade, and giving each man a sandwich. It was very quiet, except for a "thank you, ma'am," and the clanking of the chains. Very soon we were at the end of the line, my mother's eyes softly scanning each face.

The last prisoner was a big man, his dark skin pouring with sweat, and streaked with dust. Suddenly, his face broke into a wonderful smile, as he looked up into my mother's eyes, and he said, "Ma'am, I've wondered all my life if I'd ever see an angel, and now I have! Thank you!"

Again, my mother's smile took in the whole group. "You're all welcome!" she said. "God bless you." Then we walked across to the house, with empty tray and pitchers, and back inside. Soon, the men moved on, and I never saw them again.

The only explanation my mother ever gave me, for that strange and wonderful day, was that I "remember, always, to entertain strangers, for by doing so, you may entertain angels, without knowing." Then, with a mysterious smile, she went about the rest of the day.

I don't remember what we ate for supper, that night. I just know it was served by an angel.

Jaye Lewis

Jaye Lewis is an award winning inspirational writer and contributing author to Chicken Soup for the Soul. Entertaining Angels appeared in the 2005 edition of Chicken Soup for Every Mom's Soul. It is also the inspiration for Jaye's website: www.entertainingangels.org and the title for the first installment of her e-book which will be available through her website, sometime in late spring or early summer. Jaye lives in the southern Appalachian Mountains of Virginia, USA.

Have Faith and Move Forward

I remember about a year or so ago I decided to reread Norman Vincent Peale's The Power of Positive Thinking. I was going through a hard time. I had just been diagnosed with Breast Cancer and I was very scared!

I didn't really know what stage the cancer was. I was in the middle of having surgery to have the tumor removed and had not yet found out how far the cancer had progressed and if it was in an early "curable stage". The good news is it was, and my treatment was nothing compared with what some woman go through. I was still so scared and the emotional toll it placed on my mind and feelings was probably the hardest thing for me to deal within my life.

Anyway, just before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had decided to expand my business. I own an art gallery in a very wealthy area of California, but found that the downtown area had become less busy in the last few years. I wanted to have a "satellite" store" in another part of town that was heavily populated with shoppers.

I had found the "perfect" spot. It was positioned between two "perfect" stores and was in a small shopping center in town that had just been renovated and was bustling with shoppers! The space had been rented and remodeled, but then the tenants backed out of the lease and it was ready for me to rent it! The rent was inexpensive and it was "MY" spot!

I had made an appointment to meet the landlord and sign the contract the next day....then I received a call from my Doctor saying that I had in fact, had Breast Cancer and we needed to operate as soon as possible. I was not able at that point to sign the contract and had to let my "perfect spot" go. It was rented shortly after that. 

Within the last two years every time I had gone by that shopping center I would grunt to myself, "that space should have been mine". "If I hadn't gotten cancer, I would be in that space and all would be well". I started feeling sorry for myself.

That's when I decided to reread The Power of Positive Thinking. I remember reading in the book about a man that had lost his promotion to another man that the company had brought to fill the position. He was so angry and felt that it was so unjust for the company and God to not let him have this promotion. He had worked harder and longer than the other man in the company and felt he was the "perfect" man for the job. He was devastated.

He and his wife struggled to let go of that promotion and focus on moving forward and accept that this was not the time or the job for him at this point in his career.Two years later the President of this company stepped down from his position and this man became the President of that company! What an inspirational story I thought to myself. Yes, they tell me all the time "sometimes when things pass you by it's because there is something better waiting for you in the wings", " You need to have faith and move forward", so that's what I did. I had faith and I moved forward.

It's been a little over two years since my cancer diagnosis and I feel like I'm back to normal again. I have moved forward and a couple of weeks ago, out of the blue, a friend of mine called me to tell me that there was a space opening up beside him in a very good building that has only art galleries in it. It is a building known for having very good high end galleries and collectors from all over the country and the world come to visit this building and the galleries that are in it. Well, I'm sure you know that this was my "Perfect" spot! Yes in deed....I got a bigger space, in a better place, for less money!!!! I can't tell you how the story of the man in the Norman Vincent Peale Book came rushing back to my mind. Yes, it is true! It is! Faith and the ability to let go and move on is what was needed. I did that, I trusted and I gave myself and God time to work things out.

Next month the gallery opens and though it is a small gallery space, it is a "perfect" space, it is the space that was given to me by God.

Karen Imperial

Feel free to email your thoughts to Karen on her story to: ktheimp@gmail.com and take the time to view her gallery website at: www.bryantstreet.com

Riding Out Life's Tsunamis

It has been over a month now since a powerful magnitude-9.0 earthquake and tsunami devastated Japan. The confirmed death toll is over 13,000 and continues to rise. In the midst of all the horror stories are occasional heroic tales of survival and rescue. One of the most fascinating is that of Susumu Sugawara.

The 64-year-old Sugawara is the owner-operator of a small boat named "Sunflower." After the massive earthquake and in view of the tsunami warnings being broadcast, he had to make a quick decision. Should he head for high ground on his island of Oshima? Should he put his boat to sea and try to ride out the fury? His chose to launch his boat and head for deep water offshore.

"I knew if I didn't save my boat," he told a CNN reporter, "my island would be isolated and in trouble." So he ran to his 42-year-old craft that can hold about 20 people at a time and went full-throttle toward the deadly waves that would kill people whose names and faces he knew. Then he saw the wall of water.

Accustomed to waves ten to twelve feet high, this one was fully 50 to 60 feet high. Sugawara knew that he and his boat could easily wind up at the bottom of the sea. He drove straight for it - "climbing the wave like a mountain," as he put it. And the mountain seemed only to grow bigger and bigger. There was a huge crash of water over him. Only then could he see the horizon. He had survived!

Sugawara made his way back to his now-devastated Oshima. For the month since, he has been a lifeline by making hourly trips to the mainland to ferry people and supplies. If people can help pay for gasoline, he accepts money. If they have lost everything and can pay nothing, he still welcomes them aboard.

I'm no sailor or boat captain. I don't know if the Japanese captain made the reasonable and right decision on that fateful day. I can only report and rejoice at the outcome. He lived through the ordeal and is helping others with a sense of sensitivity to their suffering the rest of us can only admire from a distance.

Here is the lesson from this story for me: Against my hesitation and fear, it makes more sense to ride into the teeth of life's challenges than to run away.

There is a cash-flow crisis. There is an unexpected problem with a product. A major supplier has failed, or a major customer has bailed. Some executives kick into denial mode or ball up in a fetal position. Their companies fail. Leaders steer right into the problem and act with integrity to name and face the problem.

Or maybe the problem is far more serious. A spouse says the marriage is over. The police or hospital calls with a parent's worst nightmare about an arrest or accident. Maybe you get a diagnosis that sounds like a death sentence. Do you run and hide? Self-medicate with drugs or alcohol? Or do you steer into the teeth of the storm and pray for courage you have never had to display before?

 

 
"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face," said Eleanor Roosevelt. "You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next one that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do." 

Rubel Shelly

Rubel Shelly is a Preacher and Professor of Religion and Philosophy located in Rochester Hills, Michigan. In addition to church and academic responsibilities, he has worked actively with such community projects as Habitat for Humanity, American Red Cross, From Nashville With Love, Metro (Nashville) Public Schools, Faith Family Medical Clinic, and Operation Andrew Ministries.

Conquering the Stairs

Have you ever let fear conquer you? Well today, you're going to read about an amazing dog who helped me overcome mine.

Caspian was a new addition to my household. He had shown up in the front yard of my 100 year old Virginia farmhouse one early morning. He was skin and bones, covered with ticks, fleas and sores, and had been shot - his skinny body riddled with buckshot. I took one look at this pathetic animal and told him he was home.

It took weeks of vet treatments, baths and many bowls of food, but he finally began to look like a dog that was going to make it. His bones began to disappear, his coat took on a shine, and he became my constant shadow to show his appreciation for me saving his life. He was always with me - except when I went upstairs to my office.

My home had a wide expanse of wooden stairs that led to the 2^nd floor. Caspian was terrified of them. It didn't matter what I did to build his confidence, or what wonderful tidbit of food I tempted him with, he refused to climb those stairs. He would just cower at the bottom stair and shake all over whenever I got him near them. Yet when I went up to my office, he was overcome with despair at being separated from me and laid at the bottom whimpering and whining.

I had no idea what had created this fear, and I had even less of an idea of how to conquer it. After two weeks of daily attempts, I finally gave up. If he didn't want to climb the stairs - so be it. But my only defense from his pitiful whining was to turn the music up any time I needed to be in my office. When I would leave my office and come downstairs, Caspian would erupt with frantic joy to be reunited once again. 

About a month into this pattern, I was awakened one morning by a noise. I lay in bed trying to identify what it was.
Click, click, click. Silence. Click, click, click. Silence.
It kept on for close to fifteen minutes before my curiosity finally overwhelmed my desire to stay under the warm covers. I threw aside my quilt, grabbed a robe and went out to investigate. When I identified the source of the noise, I just stood there with my mouth wide open.
I watched as Caspian carefully climbed the stairs. Click, click, click. He got to the top, turned around, and then started back down. Click, click, click.

When he got to the bottom, he turned and gazed at me as if to say, It's really no big deal. I can do this!

And then he did it again, and again, and again. at least 25 more times - after already having done it for 15 minutes before I finally came to investigate. 

I watched his confidence grow with each ascent and descent of the "dreaded stairs." His tongue hung out in joy and at the end his tail was wagging is triumph over his fears. He knew he would never again have to be separated from me because of the stairs. 

I already loved him, but that day I gained an incredible respect for his courage and resilience. I was also challenged about what I was willing to do to overcome my fears. Was I willing to stare my fears in the face and then take the steps to overcome that fear? Was I willing to feel the fear, and then do it anyway? Was I willing to attack my fears, for as long as it took to overcome them? I made a lot of decisions that day that have given me a much richer life - and I have Caspian to thank for it!

So now I pose the same questions to you: Are you willing to stare your fears in the face and then take the steps to overcome them? Are you willing to feel the fear, and then do it anyway? Are you willing to attack your fears for as long as it takes to overcome them?
Every time you are faced with a fear, try to remember a courageous dog that was able to conquer his fears with love and determination - and then follow his lead. All of us are afraid of something in our lives. There is no shame in being afraid. The key to victory, however, is to face your fear head on and do whatever it takes to overcome it. You can let your fears stop you from achieving all you want in life, or. you can follow Caspian's lead and conquer the stairs!

Ginny Dye

Ginny Dye is the Founder and CEO of The Ultimate Life Company - created to empower you to live your ultimate life! Learn from your favorite speakers, claim FREE bonuses, GET PAID, and make a difference in the world every day! Click here to learn more and see a personal video from Ginny.

I am just passing through!

How an elderly woman so casually talked of an important phase of life?

There is a popular story that several years ago a man set out for a country walk.  However, he lost his way.  Then he found himself on a lonely track where he came upon a cottage.  He decided to ask for directions.  With quiet courtesy an elderly woman invited him in for a cup of tea and a home-baked food.

He was simply taken aback to see that the lady lived alone with so little things with her just a table, two wooden chair and an old iron bedstead in the corner.  The man could not hide his surprise.  He said, "You have so little and still you seem to be so content."  "Where is all your furniture?"  He said.  Then the lady said with a smile, "Where is yours?"  The traveler echoed in surprise,  "Why should I have any furniture here?  I am just passing through?"

The Old woman smiled again.  She said quietly, "So am I."

Story of the Stonecutter

There was a stone cutter. One day he found a big stone in a mountain. He wanted to split that Rock. He took his big iron hammer and started to hit it with his might. There was no scratch - not a chip. He pull back his hammer and hit it again and again. There was not a slight crack. He continued his work. Passersby saw his efforts with no result and laughed at him saying what is the use of hitting this boulder.  You will not be able to brake this stone.  But the stone cutter was serious. A stone cutter is intelligent. He knows that just because he don't see immediate effects from his current actions, it doesn't mean that he is not making any progress. He continued his hitting. But there was no result after hitting 70th hit or 180th hit. But at the 707th hit the rock doesn't just chip, but literally split in half. Was it the one single hit that split the rock? No. Absolutely not. The constant pressure applied to that rock split it finally.

Persistence is the key to success. But also you must know when you should give up. Have you ever heard of Traf-O-Data a company formed by Bill Gates and his associates before Microsoft.  But they abandoned that project in a latter date.   Theres is no use in follow with a project which is of no use.

I am a user of internet since 2000. During the fist few years I was introduced to make some bucks from reading emails. My personal experience was very bad as I did not receive any payment till now even though I pursued it for few years. Persistence with worthless efforts are a waste of time and energy. But I found writing and publishing articles with Hubpages   It is a very good way to earn some bucks. Even though there was no result in the first year, it made some progress in the second year. I don't know what motivates you to write. Whatever it is, do it with your full might, one day you will see the starts.

Be Content With What You Have

Jim and Tom were believers of the same church. Jim was a wealthy man. He had many business ventures. He was the back borne of the local church. He were there for donations. He were there in the church committee. He actively participated every church services and activities. Whether it was weekly or Sunday service, he was there. He was there to teach Sunday school students. Donated generously for the church fund.

At the same time Tom was a worker who earned his daily wages by doing odd jobs.  He attended Church every Sunday only.

When both of them died one day. Gabriel was advised by the God to take Tom to heaven and Jim to hell. Gabriel was puzzled at the instruction and went to God to clarify the matter.

Gabriel said to God, why have you sent Jim to hell. He was a good Christian. He gave tithe regularly. He attended all the church service. He helped many. He was the corner stone of that small church. There is no point in sending him to hell. On the other hand Tom was attending church once in a week. He was not so active like Jim. Still you send Tom to heaven and Jim to hell. What prompt you to do like this.

Then God replied to Gabriel that Jim was good in all other areas but he lack one important quality. He never satisfied by the things given to him. I gave him good business. I gave him good wife. I gave him good children. I gave him good house. Nice car. Whatever I can, I gave him. 

 

But he never satisfied with all that good blessings. Whenever he attended the church he was asking for more blessings. While praying he was complaining about his this business or that business. He was asking for more business. Better Car and Better home etc. He neither satisfied nor give thanks for all the things I have given in his life even though he was having best things in his life. He was greedy and asking for more blessings. Never satisfied. Never content with what was given to him.

On the other hand Tom was always satisfied with the things given to him. Whenever he came to church he worshiped me truly. He gave thanks for all the thing he had.  He prayed these words. "thank you Lord for all the blessings and take care of me". He was not greedy and demanding like Jim. He had a good heart even though I refused to bless him with material things he loved me and thanked me for all the blessings.

I don't want someone who is demanding things always in the heaven.  The best place for those who are not satisfied by the things they have is Hell.

A Tribute To A Baker

"HUUP...ONE, HUUP...TWO, HUUP...THREE..."

 

Those melodious orders sounded like the commands of a tough marine drill sergeant. However, in reality the man's name was Tom Williams and he was an executive with the Houston Oilers (of the National Football League) and a world class trainer of famous athletes -- Earl Campbell, Darrell Green, Mike Singletary, Hakeem Olajuwon -- to name but a few. 

During the off season he operated a Kolache shop, baking cookies and meat filled delights.

 

Approximately 200 yards from this Kolache shop was his famous "Hill", a very steep embankment, which led to the bayou. Tom would have his athletes train on that hill, running up and down to build stamina or to help rebuild muscles or ligaments damaged after an injury or surgery.
 

As for me, I had always wanted to be a pro athlete, but early on I realized that I was not quick enough nor tall enough to become one, so I focused my dreams on becoming an Orthopedic Surgeon, helping my athletic idols to recover from devastating injuries. 

That dream, however, was smashed during my sophomore year in college when I was seriously injured as an innocent victim of a convenience store robbery. I was shot in the back of the head, and very few thought I would even survive. However, many months later, after several surgeries and lengthy hospital rehabilitation programs, I met Tom, the eternal optimist. 

The first day my family and I encountered Tom he was barking out orders for his athletes on the "Hill". He told my parents he could definitely help me, but I would have to discipline myself to work four straight hours every single day, including weekends. 

At first, my parents would watch Tom work with me in the back of his Kolache shop. Tom would cover the tables he would normally use to knead his dough, and now would "knead" my muscles, massage my limp right arm, and struggle with me as I learned to walk again.

 

Then, one day, Tom barked, "Mike, let's go to the 'Hill'."
I was scared as I limped toward the bayou, and my parents were equally petrified. The "Hill" was so steep that I thought even a Billy goat would have difficulty trying to climb it.

 

Initially, Tom ordered two husky athletes to lift me under my arms and "drag" me down the hill. When we got to the bottom, one of the athletes screamed up to Tom, "What do you want us to do now?" Tom calmly replied, "Drag him back up." 

At that point, my father, who by profession is a rabbi, told my mother that he thought Tom was going to kill me and they should get me away from him as soon as possible.

 

My father, wanting to be polite, thanked Tom and stated that we had to go home. But Tom replied, "It's only 2 o'clock, and Mike is to be here until 5, and by the way, bring him a little earlier tomorrow."
 

 

Even though my father was adamant about leaving, my mother truly felt that if Tom could help "million dollar athletes" recover, he could surely help her son.

My father went home, never returning to the Kolache store because he told my mother, "Tom is going to kill Mike," and my mother never volunteered any information to my father about my progress with Tom as the days wore on.

One day, a number of weeks later, Tom called my father at home and said, "Father, this is Tom Williams and you need to get here fast!" With that, Tom slammed the phone down. 

My father thought I was dead or badly injured, the victim of a severe injury while tumbling down that "Hill." He quickly sped toward Tom's shop, jumped out of his car, and noticed many people huddled near the corner of the "Hill." With great trepidation my father peered over the "Hill" and saw me slowly climbing the "Hill" -- alive. 

 

When I reached the top of the "Hill" I quickly turned around as Tom instructed me and went back down to the bottom, to the bayou. Tears welled up in my father's eyes as Tom approached him and said, "Rabbi, you might give great sermons, but you don't practice what you preach. You tell everyone to have faith, but you did not have faith -- faith in me, faith in your son, and faith in God. You simply said, 'I give up,' and you went home."

 

 

My father pondered seriously as to what Tom had just said and watched as I slowly reached the edge of the "Hill" on my return trip. At that moment, with tears of great joy, my father and I fell into each other's arms and embraced one another. 

That was just one of the many lessons I learned from Tom over the next few years. Even though I still have many physical disabilities as a result of the gunshot wound, the "Hill" taught me that even the impossible could become the possible.

Everyone in life has his own "Hill" to climb, some small, some large. On that day Tom taught me the most important lesson of my life: "Never give in; never give up." 

 

 

Even though Tom was a world class trainer of athletes, he learned that his true love was helping "ordinary" people, and soon after my success on the "Hill" Tom opened a Rehabilitation Center where he worked with spinal cord and head injured and stroke patients. In the "old days," Tom would use only a simple table in the back of his Kolache shop on which he prepared his pastries to help his clients.

Now, he had a state of the art, modern Rehabilitation Center along with his own man-made "Hill" so Tom could encourage many more to defy the experts.

Tom received referrals from all over the country for he had a special ability to make patients want to excel. His patients improved and his Center was a huge success.

For the next few years I would regularly go to the Center, not only to exercise but more importantly to work out for the "Master," Tom.
 

 

I had developed a strong emotional connection with Tom. He had extended to me a lifeline to enjoy life once again which many physicians and therapists stated no longer existed.

However, later Tom became extremely ill with cancer and passed away. The funeral was huge. Many of his athletes were there to say their last "good byes" and "thank yous." I was an honorary pallbearer because his family thought that our relationship was a special and unique one.

After everyone left the cemetery I went up to Tom's grave to utter my final prayer and statement of thankfulness that such a wonderful man had been a part of my life. As I glanced at the inscription on the tombstone I read:

Forever Loved In The Hearts Of Those He Touched
Tom Williams
April 11, 1927 -- June 11, 1995

At that very moment I realized why we were so deeply connected: April 11 is also my birthday!
(c)2001 by Michael Jordan Segal, MSW
Michael Jordan Segal, who defied all odds after being shot in the head, is a husband, father, social worker, freelance author (including a CD/Download of 12 stories, read with light backgroud music, entitled POSSIBLE), and inspirational speaker, sharing his recipe for happiness, recovery and success before conferences and businesses. To contact Mike or to order his CD,

Stanislavsky Lech - 25 Miles to Freedom , Power of Question

Anthony Robbins tells a story of a Krakow Death Camp escapee. His name was Stanislavsky Lech, and when his home was stormed and the Nazis herded him with his family into Krakow, he watched as they were all murdered. He was put to work. Eventually, he was weak and starving, in addition to his grief, and a thought crossed his mind that he would not survive one more day in Krakow.

He changed his question from "How can there be such a terrible place" to "How can we escape from such a place?" At first the answer was the same, "There is no escape." He kept asking in slightly different ways, "How can I do it?"

Soon, he smelled rotting flesh a few feet from where he was working, and noticed that the bodies of those who had been recently gassed were piled into the back of a truck. Again, he changed the "How can God allow this to happen?" to "How can I use this to help me escape?"
When he returned from work the next evening, the truck was there. He pulled off his clothes when no one was looking and, pretending to be dead, climbed into the pile of dead bodies. He waited while the cold of the corpses pressed against him, and the smell invaded his body. The ride to the open grave wasn't long, and he was dumped along with the others. He waited until it had been quiet for some time before he dared to look around.

They were gone. He got up and ran, naked, 25 miles to freedom that night.

He was able to free himself, in part, because he asked a different question. Our intuition, or higher self, will always answer our questions. Just as it is helpful to know what we really want, it is also helpful to know where we could use some help.

Does God Exist

Does God Exist?

A man went to do his hair cut.  As always, he and the barber chatted about many things.  While talking they come to subject of God and the barber said that there is  no God.  God doesn't exits!  If God exists, why there is suffering and crime.  If god existed, there wouldn't be much suffering.

The man fell into thought for a while and then said:

You know something? Barbers don’t exist.

Barber: - What do you mean, don’t exist? I’m here, and I’m a barber.

Man: - They don’t exist! – insisted the man. – Because if they did, there wouldn’t be people with such long beards and such tangled hair.

Barber: - I can guarantee that barbers do exist. But these people never come in here.

Man : - Exactly! So, in answer to your question, God exists, too. It just so happens that people don’t go to Him. If they did, there wouldn’t be so much misery in the world and they would be more giving.

Yes! God is there.  God exits. But men are not seeking God. 

How Would You Like to Be Remembered When You Are Gone

Taken from Nitro Noble's House Journal (Alfred Noble's Company) Sweden May 1977

 

How Would You Like to Be Remembered When You Are Gone ?

Are you startled by this question?
Have you ever given this a little thought ?
 

If you haven't, I would be serious when I suggest that you should give this a hard good look and cast this statement in your mind. "When I am gone I would like people to remember me as….."

About a 100+ years ago, a man looked at the morning newspaper and to his dismay and horror, he read his name in the front page. "Dynamite Kind Dies." 

 

This was cast in a square grey tinted box with a thick black line on the borders."

His first response was awesomely shocking. "Am I there or here? When he regained his composure after a while, his next thought was to actually find out what people said of him, what people thought of him

The obituary news read as follows:

"He was the merchant of death. This man was the inventor of the dynamite. One most cruel invention that could kill people while it was being made, and even many more when it was used. A substance of mass killing, and a deadly weapon in the hands of those who wishes to create terror and rule the scene…. The story continued with several curses added to it.

He asked himself, "Is this how people view me?
 

Is this the way they will think of me?
 

Is this the way they will remember me?

He decided then and there that he would change the situation made a firm resolve to clear the stigma that was being associated with his name. 

 

From that day on he started working towards peace, and sure enough he left an indelible mark on this planet. He is remembered even this day as Alfred Noble. 

 

He gave his entire earnings to establish a foundation that would work for peace in the world, and today too it awards prizes for achievers all over the world for their unique contributions to the welfare of mankind. He lives on even today through this mission and the Noble prizes are awarded in his honor.

Just as Alfred Noble redefined his values, I believe all of us should step back and do the same taking a leaf out of this man's true story.

What will be your legacy?
How would you like to be remembered?
Will you be spoken off well?
Will you be remembered with love and respect?
Will you be missed?

Never Give Up

This story is about a farmer and his mule. The effectiveness of the story lies in the way it focuses upon adversity and how attitude determines the course of seemingly lost cause. There was this farmer in a tiny village.

He owned an old mule that used to carry grains and other farming related stuff for the farmer. During one of those days, the mule fell into a well. The well ran deep and despite trying hard many a times, mule couldn’t get himself out the well. He started to lose hope. His consistent shrieks drew attention of the farmer who came rushing to the well.

Farmer looked around and tried to come up with a rescue plan but eventually, he also lost the hope. He decided that the old mule was not worth the trouble of saving. So, he called his neighbours and asked for their help in hauling dirt to bury the old mule.

The mule got hysterical. Soon enough, the farmer and the neighbours started to shovel and fill the well with the dirt. When the first bout of dirt hit mule’s back, suddenly his fast losing spirit came up with an idea. He thought every time a shovel load of dirt will land on his back, he will just shake it off and step up a bit higher. The idea filled him with a new lease of life and hope.

Old mule kept doing the same blow after blow. He would just shake the dirt off and step up a notch higher. He kept reminding himself of possibility of a brand new life. He controlled his nerves and kept stepping up. After some time, the exhausted mule managed to step over the wall of that well. He was completely tired and fatigued yet his spirit triumphed. The dirt that was meant to bury him actually helped him in remaining alive.

The story is a clear example of how our attitude towards seemingly impossible adversities determines the final outcome. Life is like this only. If we respond positively to the stream of problems faced by us and refuse to surrender, we are likely to emerge victorious.

Clear Mind, Clean Mind

Once Buddha was walking from one town to another town with a few of his followers.  While they were traveling, they happened to pass a lake. They stopped there and Buddha told one of his disciples, “I am thirsty. Go and get me some water from that lake there.”

The disciple walked up to the lake. When he reached it, he noticed that right at that moment, a bullock cart started crossing through the lake. As a result, the water became very muddy, very turbid. The disciple thought, “How can I give this muddy water to Buddha to drink!”

So he came back and told Buddha, “The water in there is very muddy. I don’t think it is fit to drink.” After about half an hour, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back to the lake and get him some water to drink. The disciple obediently went back to the lake.

This time too he found that the lake was muddy. He returned and informed Buddha about the same. After sometime, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back. The disciple reached the lake to find the lake absolutely clean and clear with pure water in it. The mud had settled down and the water above it looked fit to be had. So he collected some water in a pot and brought it to Buddha.

Buddha looked at the water, and then he looked up at the disciple and said,” See what you did to make the water clean. You let it be…. and the mud settled down on its own – and you got clear water. Your mind is also like that! When it is disturbed, just let it be. Give it a little time. It will settle down on its own. You don’t have to put in any effort to calm it down. It will happen. It is effortless.

 

A Story to Live By

What Special Someday Are We Saving For?

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package.


"This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie."

He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite: silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached.


"Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least eight or nine years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion."


He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment. Then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me.


"Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion."


I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when
I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special.


I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event--such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for a small bag of groceries without wincing.
I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are fighting a losing battle to stay in my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.


I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing--I'll never know.


It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with--someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write--one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them.
I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives.


And every morning when I open my eyes I tell myself that this is a special occasion.

Ann Wells

Ann Wells penned the column a couple of years after her sister unexpectedly died, and several years before she would lose her husband. Her work somehow made its way to the Internet, where it moves by email and chain letters, compliments of the forward button, and has been renamed "A Story to Live By." Wells, a retired secretary and occasional freelancer, was stunned that the essay, first published in The Los Angeles Times in April 1985, has been zipping through cyberspace. She doesn't even have email. "I'm as surprised as anyone," Wells said.

Triple Filter Test.

In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?"

"Hold on a minute," Socrates replied. "Before telling me anything I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test."

"Triple filter?"

"That's right," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"

"No," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and."

"All right," said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not.

Now let's try the second filter, the filter of goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?"

"No, on the contrary..."

"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left: the filter of usefulness.

Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?"

"No not really …”

"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"

This is why Socrates was a great philosopher & held in such high esteem.

The Best Manager

One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia . Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get some shelter for the night.

"Could you possibly give us a room here?" the husband asked.

The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town. "All of our rooms are taken," the clerk said. "But I can't send a nice couple like you out into the rain at one o'clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It's not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night."

When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. "Don't worry about me, I'll make out just fine," the clerk told them.

So the couple agreed.

As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, "You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States.

Maybe someday I'll build one for you."

The clerk looked at them and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh. As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn't easy.

Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round-trip ticket to New York , asking the young man to pay them a visit.

The old man met him in New York , and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street . He then pointed to a great new building there, a pale reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.

"That," said the older man, "is the hotel I have just built for you to manage."

"You must be joking," the young man said.

"I can assure you I am not," said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.

The older man's name was William Waldorf-Aster, and that magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Boldt. This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world's most glamorous hotel.