Category: INSPIRATIONAL

WE ALL NEED TO BELIEVE IN MIRACLES whether the email story is true or not…

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall’s Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment.

Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

And what do you want?’ the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I’m talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven’t seen in ages,’ he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

‘Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,’ Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone.

‘He’s really, really sick….and I want to buy a miracle.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said the pharmacist.

‘His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?’

‘We don’t sell miracles here, little girl. I’m sorry but I can’t help you,’ the pharmacist said, softening a little.

‘Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn’t enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs.’

The pharmacist’s brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, ‘What kind of a miracle does your brother need?’

I don’t know,’ Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he’s really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can’t pay for it, so I want to use my money.’

‘How much do you have?’ asked the man from Chicago.

‘One dollar and eleven cents,’ Tess answered barely audible. ‘And it’s all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.’

‘Well, what a coincidence,’ smiled the man. ‘A dollar and eleven cents—the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.’

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said ‘Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet

  your parents. Let’s see if I have the miracle you need.’

That well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn’t long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place..

‘That surgery,’ her Mom whispered. ‘was a real miracle.. I wonder how much it would have cost?’

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a  miracle cost…one dollar and eleven cents…plus the faith of a little child.

In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need.

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.

NEW YEAR FULL OF POSSIBILITY REPLACES HARD YEAR FOR MANY

I receive a Dear Abby email each day. Many days I flat out ignore it, but often there are these gems that bear repeating.  This is one of them:

“Today is the day we discard destructive old habits for healthy new ones, and with that in mind, I will share Dear Abby’s often requested list of New Year’s Resolutions — which were adapted by my mother, Pauline Phillips, from the original credo of Al-Anon:

JUST FOR TODAY: I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all of my problems at once.

I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things that I can correct and accept those I cannot.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, and I’ll not speak ill of others. I will improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will refrain from improving anybody but myself.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will do something positive to improve my health. If I’m a smoker, I’ll quit. If I am overweight, I will eat healthfully — if only just for today. And not only that, I will get off the couch and take a brisk walk, even if it’s only around the block.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will gather the courage to do what is right and take responsibility for my own actions.

And now, Dear Readers, I would like to share an item that was sent to me by I.J. Bhatia, a reader who lives in New Delhi, India:

DEAR ABBY: This year, no resolutions, only some guidelines. The Holy Vedas say, “Man has subjected himself to thousands of self-inflicted bondages. Wisdom comes to a man who lives according to the true eternal laws of nature.”

The prayer of St. Francis (of which there are several versions) contains a powerful message:
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
“where there is hatred, let me sow love,
“where there is injury, pardon;
“where there is doubt, faith;
“where there is despair, hope;
“where there is darkness, light;
“and where there is sadness, joy.
“O Divine Master,
“grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
“to be understood, as to understand;
“to be loved, as to love;
“for it is in giving that we receive,
“it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
“and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.”

And so, Dear Readers, may this new year bring with it good health, peace and joy to all of you. Love, ABBY”

THE LIBERTY LIMITED ~ 2005 ARMY NAVY GAME

Here’s a ‘today’ Yule story that occurred 5 years ago ~ and now for the holidays, I bring you the best Christmas story you never heard that should be turned into a heart warming movie. I snopes verified the story too guys.
It started Christmas 2004, when Bennett and Vivian Levin were overwhelmed by sadness while listening to radio reports of injured American troops. “We have to let them know we care,” Vivian told Bennett. So they organized a trip to bring soldiers from Walter Reed Army Medical Center and Bethesda Naval Hospital to the annual Army-Navy football game in Philly, on Dec. 3.
The cool part is, they created their own train line to do it. Yes, there are people in this country who actually own real trains. Bennett Levin – native Philly guy, self-made millionaire and irascible former L&I commish – is one of them.
He has three luxury rail cars. Think mahogany paneling, plush seating and white-linen dining areas. He also has two locomotives, which he stores at his Juniata Park train yard. One car, the elegant Pennsylvania , carried John F. Kennedy to the Army-Navy game in 1961 and ’62. Later, it carried his brother Bobby’s body to D. C. for burial. “That’s a lot of history for one car,” says Bennett.
He and Vivian wanted to revive a tradition that endured from 1936 to 1975, during which trains carried Army-Navy spectators from around the country directly to the stadium where the annual game is played. The Levins could think of no better passengers to reinstate the ceremonial ride than the wounded men and women recovering at Walter Reed in D. C. and Bethesda , in Maryland . “We wanted to give them a first-class experience,” says Bennett. “Gourmet meals on board, private transportation from the train to the stadium, perfect seats – real hero treatment.”
Through the Army War College Foundation, of which he is a trustee, Bennett met with Walter Reed’s commanding general, who loved the idea. But Bennett had some ground rules first, all designed to keep the focus on the troops alone:
  • No press on the trip, lest the soldiers’ day of pampering devolve into a media circus.                   
  • No politicians either, because, says Bennett, “I didn’t want some idiot making this trip into a campaign photo op”. 
  • And no Pentagon suits on board, otherwise the soldiers would be too busy saluting superiors to relax.
The general agreed to the conditions, and Bennett realized he had a problem on his hands. “I had to actually make this thing happen,” he laughs.
Over the next months, he recruited owners of 15 other sumptuous rail cars from around the country – these people tend to know each other – into lending their vehicles for the day. The name of their temporary train? The Liberty Limited.
Amtrak volunteered to transport the cars to D. C. – where they’d be coupled together for the round-trip ride to Philly – then back to their owners later. Conrail offered to service the Liberty while it was in Philly. And SEPTA drivers would bus the disabled soldiers 200 yards from the train to Lincoln Financial Field, for the game.
A benefactor from the War College ponied up 100 seats to the game – on the 50-yard line – and lunch in a hospitality suite.
And corporate donors filled, for free and without asking for publicity, goodie bags for attendees: From Woolrich, stadium blankets. From Wal-Mart, digital cameras. From Nikon, field glasses. From GEAR, down jackets. There was booty not just for the soldiers, but for their guests, too, since each was allowed to bring a friend or family member.
The Marines, though, declined the offer. “They voted not to take guests with them, so they could take more Marines,” says Levin, choking up at the memory.
Bennett’s an emotional guy, so he was worried about how he’d react to meeting the 88 troops and guests at D. C.’s Union Station, where the trip originated. Some GIs were missing limbs. Others were wheelchair-bound or accompanied by medical personnel for the day. “They made it easy to be with them,” he says. “They were all smiles on the ride to Philly. Not an ounce of self-pity from any of them. They’re so full of life and determination.”
At the stadium, the troops reveled in the game, recalls Bennett. Not even Army’s lopsided loss to Navy could deflate the group’s rollicking mood.
Afterward, it was back to the train and yet another gourmet meal – heroes get hungry, says Levin – before returning to Walter Reed and Bethesda . “The day was spectacular,” says Levin. “It was all about these kids. It was awesome to be part of it.”
The most poignant moment for the Levins was when 11 Marines hugged them goodbye, then sang them the Marine Hymn on the platform at Union Station. “One of the guys was blind, but he said, ‘I can’t see you, but man, you must be  beautiful!’ ” says Bennett. “I got a lump so big in my throat, I couldn’t even answer him.”
It’s been three weeks, but the Levins and their guests are still feeling the day’s love. “My Christmas came early,” says Levin, who is Jewish and who loves the Christmas season. “I can’t describe the feeling in the air.” Maybe it was hope.
As one guest wrote in a thank-you note to Bennett and Vivian, “The fond memories generated last Saturday will sustain us all – whatever the future may bring.”
God bless the Levins.
And bless the troops, every one.

COMMON COURTESY

Earlier this week a family member was “hurt” because her grandfather had not acknowledged her high school graduation.  She just graduated about 2 weeks ago, quite late and at an unusual time.  She did not send out announcements, but made an “announcement” on facebook that most family members never even saw.  A niece mentioned to her that it was her responsibility to contact grandpa and that facebook was NOT the place to make that statement and expect recognition from everyone and that she should have sent out announcements or that the very least made personal phone calls.  The grand daughter disagreed. 
I openly admit that I’m old school.  I do expect an announcement and/or invitation to arrive in my mail box for things like high school graduations, weddings, showers and such.  I also expect a thank you card for the gifts sent for these events.  After all, it is common courtesy and also a good way to stay in touch with family and friends.   
EVERYONE loves getting snail mail – especially happy news snail mail!  

Ironically, I received a Dear Abby email a few days later that addresses this very subject and is perfect timing for the upcoming holiday season. 

DEAR ABBY: At Christmas, “Santa” always fills my children’s stockings with a mix of fun, edible and practical items. A few years ago, when my oldest child was beginning to write, my husband and I started the tradition of tucking packets of thank-you cards into their stockings.

We explained that Santa must have given them the cards so they would have stationery to write thank-you notes to family and friends for the gifts they had received. The cards are a wonderful reminder to my children that they need to express their gratitude to those who have spent time and money to buy and send them a gift. Usually there are cards left over to cover thank-you notes at birthday time as well.

Unfortunately, these days, not enough people — even adults — take the time to write a note of appreciation for presents they are given. I believe parents should encourage children to do this as soon as they are able to understand the concept. I hope my husband and I are instilling a lifelong habit in our children. Abby, can you help get the point across? — THANKFUL MOM IN BRUNSWICK, MAINE

DEAR THANKFUL MOM: Gladly. You are teaching your children an important lesson. It’s a formality that started being ignored decades ago. Then, as years passed, it was a custom that was not just ignored, but many people forgot it existed. The result was that parents who hadn’t been taught the social niceties did not teach them to their children.

When I publish letters about thank-you notes, I invariably receive an avalanche of letters and e-mails from readers complaining that they are hurt and offended because they don’t receive thank-you notes. Some individuals use texts and e-mails to acknowledge gifts. However, for most people a handwritten note is much more memorable. Thanking someone for a gift, an invitation to a party or a kind deed in writing is important.
While composing a letter may always be a chore to some people, there are occasions when the written message is the only proper means of communication. It shows effort, and can become a keepsake. For those people who have difficulty expressing their thoughts, my booklet “How to Write Letters for All Occasions” covers a few basic rules for acknowledging gifts, expressing sympathy and accepting or declining an invitation. It can be ordered by sending your name and mailing address, plus check or money order for $6 (U.S. funds), to Dear Abby — Letters Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. Shipping and handling are included in the price. Not everyone can write letters that are literary masterpieces, but for anyone who wonders how to put in writing a brief, charming thank-you note, a letter expressing congratulations, a love letter — or one that announces a broken engagement — my booklet will serve as a guide to those who have put off writing because they didn’t know what to say, how to say it, or even how to begin.

Because the season for exchanging gifts is nearly here, “Thankful Mom,” your letter is an important and timely one.

Dear Abby is written by Abigail Van Buren, also known as Jeanne Phillips, and was founded by her mother, Pauline Phillips. Write Dear Abby at www.DearAbby.com or P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, CA 90069.

©2009 Universal Press Syndicate

EVERY DAY ANGELS Right place, Right Time can be a Blessing.

Every now and then we all need a reason to understand why we are here. I know I have been questioning that A LOT lately, but then my good friend, Mikey, sent me the following email tonight and reminded me. Even if the following email isn’t completely true, it reminds us that there are people in this world, many of whom we have yet to meet that need us as much as we need them or need to be needed. 
Always follow your heart and grab a tissue.
I was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and die – I barely managed to coast into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn’t even turn over. Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the quickie mart building, and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a gas pump, so I got out to see if she was okay.  When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her. It was a nickel.
At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat) , and the gas pump reading $4.95.
I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept saying ‘I don’t want my kids to see me crying! ,’ so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now. So I asked, ‘And you were praying?’ That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, ‘He heard you, and He sent me.’
I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely, and while it was fueling, walked to the next door McDonald’s and bought 2 big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little.
She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City. Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn’t have money to pay rent January 1st and finally, in desperation, had called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there.
So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.
I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, sh e said, ‘So, are you like an angel or something?’
This definitely made me cry. I said, ‘Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people.’
It was so incredible to be a part of someone else’s miracle. And of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I’ll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won’t find anything wrong.
Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of their wings…
Psalms 55:22 ‘ Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.’

SOMETHING WE SHOULD ALL REMEMBER

You all know that I’m dealing with an aunt who is in a guardianship situation and that the situation is not good because the guardian (in mine and my family’s opinions) is not doing due diligence to care for my aunt or at least have her in a care taking situation that does.  She is in a home where she is being verbally, emotionally, spiritually abused.  These I have witnessed.  She also says they physically abuse her when no one is around to see.  Unfortunately, all of this is being written off as here say and the proper authorities are not getting involved because the guardian is “well respected” by the court.  I have to ask how my aunt was placed in this home (along with many other “guardian” clients of the same lawyer) when the home did not even have the proper licensing, at the time of the placement, but that’s another story.  While this is a sad situation that we are pulling our hair out to solve (and also explains why my uncle is bald) part of the blame lies with my aunt.  Yes, she has a debilitating disease, yes she is a pain in the neck, but she is a human being that deserves at the very least compassionate care takers and if she had a better attitude it would help all around. I can’t help but pray and wish that she had had the attitude of this man and I pray that I WILL have this attitude and the grace to live with life as it happens as I grow older.

This was an email I received recently.  I couldn’t think of a more appropriate place to share it than here at THE Motivation Station.   

A 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud man, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with his hair fashionably combed and shaved perfectly, even though he is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today.  His wife of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, he smiled sweetly when told his room was ready. 

 

As he maneuvered his walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of his tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on his window.  I love it,’ he stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy. 

 
Mr. Jones, you haven’t seen the room; just wait.’  

‘That doesn’t have anything to do with it,’ he replied.  Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time.  Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is  arranged … it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it.  ‘It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice;  I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the  parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful  for the ones that do. 

Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away.. Just for this time in my life.  Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from what you’ve put in. 

So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories! 

Thank you for your part in filling my Memory Bank. 
I am still depositing.
 

‘Remember the five simple rules to be happy: 
1. Free your heart from hatred. 
2. Free your mind from worries. 
3. Live simply. 
4. Give more. 
5. Expect less. 

SO I HAVE A QUESTION????????????

Are you a Facebook fan? Do you play Facebook apps? Do you Twitter? Have blogs become passe’? This is a debate that some of my friends and family have been having or rather are having on an ongoing basis. Is you day being eaten up by computer time?

I ask all these questions because there seems to be a trend going on in the blog world. Comments appear to be disappearing all over the place. Participation in contests and memes appear to be diminishing.  Viruses are piggy backing on facebook apps and even google search engines. So is it because you are all glued to computer games or is it like any other journaling, it just loses its appeal after a while? Or is everyone out bar hopping and singing karoke? I’d love to hear what your take is?

aprons 3