Category: WIT & WISDOM

At dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.  One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, “What’s a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?”  To stress his point he said to another guest; “You’re a teacher,  Bonnie. Be honest. What do you  make?” 

Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, “You want to know what I make? (She paused for a  second, then began…)

• “Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
• I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can’t make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.
• You want to know what I make? (She paused  again and looked at each and every person at the  table)
• I make kids wonder.
• I make them question.
• I  make them apologize and mean  it.
• I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.
• I teach them to write and  then I make them write. Keyboarding isn’t  everything.
• I make them read, read, read.
• I make them show all their work in math.  They use their God given brain, not the man-made  calculator.
• I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know about English while preserving their unique cultural identity.
• I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.
• Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life.  (Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)
• Then, when people try to judge  me by what I make, with me knowing money isn’t everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because they are ignorant. You want to  know what I make? I  MAKE A DIFFERENCE.  What do you make Mr. CEO?“

His jaw dropped, he went  silent.

Teaching is…the profession that makes all other professions!!!

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list.  Before long, the entire class was smiling. ‘Really?’ she heard whispered. ‘I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!’ and, ‘I didn’t know others liked me so much,’ were most of the comments..

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn’t matter.

The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students was killed in Viet  Nam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before.. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin.. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin..

As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. ‘Were you Mark’s math teacher?’ he asked. She nodded: ‘yes.’ Then he said: ‘Mark talked about you a lot.’

After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark’s mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher..

‘We want to show you something,’ his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket ‘They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.’

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark’s classmates had said about him.

‘Thank you so much for doing that,’ Mark’s mother said. ‘As you can see, Mark treasured it.’

All of Mark’s former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, ‘I still have my list. It’s in the top drawer of mydesk at home.’

Chuck’s wife said, ‘Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.’

‘I have mine too,’ Marilyn said. ‘It’s in my diary’

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. ‘I carry this with me at all times,’ Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: ‘I think we all saved our lists’

That’s when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don’t know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

Check your shampoo bottle label.  I don’t know WHY I didn’t figure this out sooner!!!!  It’s the shampoo I use in the shower!

When I wash my hair, the shampoo runs down my whole body and (duh!) printed very clearly on the shampoo label is this warning,

Well! I have gotten rid of that shampoo and I am going to start using Dawn dish soap instead.  Their label reads,

Problem Solved!!!  If I don’t answer the phone I’ll be in the shower!!!

You say you will never forget where you were when

you heard the news On September 11, 2001.

Neither will I.

I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room

with a man who called his wife to say ‘Good-Bye.’ I

held his fingers steady as he dialled. I gave him the

peace to say, ‘Honey, I am not going to make it, but it

is OK..I am ready to go.’

I was with his wife when he called as she fed

breakfast to their children. I held her up as she

tried to understand his words and as she realized

he wasn’t coming home that night.

I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a

woman cried out to Me for help. ‘I have been

knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!’ I said.

‘Of course I will show you the way home – only

believe in Me now.’

I was at the base of the building with the Priest

ministering to the injured and devastated souls.

I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He

heard my voice and answered.

I was on all four of those planes, in every seat,

with every prayer. I was with the crew as they

were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the

believers there, comforting and assuring them that their

faith has saved them.

I was in Texas , Virginia , California, Michigan, Afghanistan .

I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news.

Did you sense Me?

I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew

every name – though not all know Me. Some met Me

for the first time on the 86th floor.

Some sought Me with their last breath.

Some couldn’t hear Me calling to them through the

smoke and flames; ‘Come to Me… this way… take

my hand.’ Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me.

But, I was there.

I did not place you in the Tower that day. You

may not know why, but I do.. However, if you were

there in that explosive moment in time, would you have

reached for Me?

Sept. 11, 2001, was not the end of the journey

for you . But someday your journey will end. And I

will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may

be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are

‘ready to go.’

I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.

God 

During the next 60 seconds, stop whatever you are

doing, and take this opportunity. 

(Literally it is only 1 minute.)  

All you have to do is the following:

Stop and think and appreciate God’s power

in your life, for doing what you know is pleasing to

Him. If you are not ashamed to do this, follow the

instructions. Jesus said, ‘If you are ashamed of Me, I will be

ashamed of you before My Father’

If you are not ashamed, copy and send this message…only

if you believe ‘Yes, I love my God. He is my

fountain of Life and My Saviour. He Keeps me going day and

night. Without Him, I am no one. But with Him, I can do

everything. Christ is my strength.’

After posting about my need to be needed yesterday, my mom sent me this email and it seemed the opportune time to share it with all of you too.

I spent the week before my daughter’s June wedding running last-minute trips to the caterer, florist, tuxedo shop, and the church about forty miles away.

As happy as I was that Patsy was marrying a good Christian young man, I felt laden with responsibilities as I watched my budget dwindle . .

So many details, so many bills, and so little time. My son Jack was away at college, but he said he would be there to walk his younger sister down the aisle, taking the place of his dad who had died a few years before. He teased Patsy, saying he’d wanted to give her away since she was about three years old!

To save money, I gathered blossoms from several friends who had large magnolia trees. Their luscious, creamy-white blooms and slick green eaves would make beautiful arrangements against the rich dark wood inside the church.

After the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, we banked the podium area and choir loft with magnolias. As we left just before midnight, I felt tired but satisfied this would be the best wedding any bride had ever had! The music, the ceremony, the reception – and especially the flowers – would be remembered for years.

The big day arrived – the busiest day of my life – and while her bridesmaids helped Patsy to dress, her fiance Tim walked with me to the sanctuary to do a final check. When we opened the door and felt a rush of hot air, I almost fainted; and then I saw them – all the beautiful white flowers were black. Funeral black. An electrical storm during the night had knocked out the air conditioning system, and on that hot summer day, the flowers had wilted and died.

I panicked, knowing I didn’t have time to drive back to our hometown, gather more flowers, and return in time for the wedding.

Tim turned to me. ‘Edna, can you get more flowers? I’ll throw away these dead ones and put fresh flowers in these arrangements.’

I mumbled, ‘Sure,’ as he be-bopped down the hall to put on his cuff links.

Alone in the large sanctuary, I looked up at the dark wooden beams in the arched ceiling. ‘Lord,’ I prayed, ‘please help me. I don’t know anyone in this town. Help me find someone willing to give me flowers – in a hurry!’ I scurried out praying for four things: the blessing of white magnolias, courage to find them in an unfamiliar yard, safety from any dog that may bite my leg, and a nice person who would not get out a shotgun when I asked to cut his tree to shreds.

As I left the church, I saw magnolia trees in the distance. I approached a house…No dog in sight.. knocked on the door and an older man answered. So far so good. No shotgun. When I stated my plea the man beamed, ‘I’d be happy to!’

He climbed a stepladder and cut large boughs and handed them down to me. Minutes later, as I lifted the last armload into my car trunk, I said, ‘Sir, you’ve made the mother of a bride happy today.’

No, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘You don’t understand what’s happening here.’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘You see, my wife of sixty-seven years died on Monday. On Tuesday I received friends at the funeral home, and on Wednesday . .. . He paused. I saw tears welling up in his eyes. ‘On Wednesday I buried her.’ He looked away. ‘On Thursday most of my out-of-town relatives went back home, and on Friday – yesterday – my children left.’

I nodded.

‘This morning,’ he continued, ‘I was sitting in my den crying out loud. I miss her so much. For the last sixteen years, as her health got worse, she needed me. But now nobody needs me. This morning I cried, ‘Who needs an eighty-six-year-old wore-outman? Nobody!’ I began to cry louder. ‘Nobody needs
me!’ About that time, you knocked, and said, ‘Sir, I need you.’

I stood with my mouth open.

He asked, ‘Are you an angel? The way the light shone around your head into my dark living room…’

I assured him I was no angel.

He smiled. ‘Do you know what I was thinking when I handed you those magnolias?’

‘No.’ ‘I decided I’m needed. My flowers are needed. Why, I might have a flower ministry! I could give them to everyone! Some caskets at the funeral home have no flowers. People need flowers at times like that and I have lots of them. They’re all over the backyard! I can give them to hospitals, churches – all sorts of places. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to serve the Lord until the day He calls me home!’

I drove back to the church, filled with wonder. On Patsy’s wedding day, if anyone had asked me to encourage someone who was hurting, I would have said, ‘Forget it! It’s my only daughter’s wedding, for goodness’ sake! There is no way I can minister to anyone today.’

But God found a way. Through dead flowers. ‘Life is not the way it’s supposed to be. It’s the way it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.’

THIS IS SO TRUE, BEING NEEDED IS SO UPLIFTING TO EACH OF US.

This story is too beautiful not to share…