Never too Late To Be!

 

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and

challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know.

I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my

shoulder. I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady

 beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.

She said, "Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty

seven years old. Can I give you a hug?"

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, "Of course you

may!" and she gave me a giant squeeze.

"Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?" I asked.

She jokingly replied, "I'm here to meet a rich husband, get

married, have a couple of children, and then retire and travel."

"No seriously," I asked. I was curious what may have motivated

her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

"I always dreamed of having a college education and

 now I'm getting one!" she told me.

       

After class we walked to the student union building and

shared a chocolate milkshake. We became instant friends. Every

day for the next three months we would leave class together

and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this "time

machine" as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and

easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up

and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the

other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our

football banquet and I'll never forget what she taught us. She

was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to

deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five

cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned

 into the microphone and simply said "I'm sorry I'm so jittery.

I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I'll

never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you

what I know."

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began:

"We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old

because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying

young, being happy, and achieving success.

"You have to laugh and find humor every day.

"You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams,

you die. We have so many people walking around who

are dead and don't even know it!

"There is a huge difference between growing older and growing

up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year

and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years

old. If I am eighty seven years old and stay in bed for a year

and never do anything I will turn eighty eight. Anybody can grow

older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up

by always finding the opportunity in change.

"Have no regrets. The elderly usually don't have regrets for what

we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear

death are those with regrets."

She concluded her speech by courageously singing "The Rose." She

challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in

our daily lives.

At the years end Rose finished the college degree she had begun

all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully

in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral

in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's

never too late to be all you can possibly be.

~Author Unknown~

Designed by

Stella

Be All You Can Be!

Building Bridges

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms

 fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of

farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor

and goods as needed without a hitch.

Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small

misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it

exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened

 it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox.

"I'm looking for a few days work" he said. "Perhaps you would

have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?"

"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across

the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's my younger

brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he

took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek

 between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but

I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn?

I want you to build me a fence -- an 8-foot fence -- so I

won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show

me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that

pleases you." The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so

he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was

off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring,

sawing, nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter

had just finished his job.

The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was

no fence there at all. It was a bridge -- a bridge stretching

from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work --

handrails and all -- and the neighbor, his younger brother, was

coming across, his hand outstretched. "You are quite a fellow to

build this bridge after all I've said and done."

The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they

met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see

the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder.

"No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you,"

said the older brother. "I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but,

I have many more bridges to build."

~Author Unknown~

Designed by
Stella



It's As Plain As The Nose On Your Face!

                                   

A pretty rare old man appeared on a popular TV program.

He received a prize for having won a contest … And he
stole the whole show with his exuberant spirit and quick wit.

"It's easy to see," remarked the admiring master of
ceremonies, "that you are a very happy man. What's
the secret of being as happy as you are? Let us in on it."

"Why son," the old man answered, "it's as plain as the nose

on your face. When I wake up in the morning, I have two
choices. One is to be unhappy; the other is to be happy.

"And I want you to know, son, that I'm not as dumb as I may
look. I'm smart enough to choose happiness. I just make up by
mind to be happy … that's all there is to it."

~By Norm an V incent P eale~
Contributed by: Harry Updegraff, Jr.

Designed by
Stella

57 Cent



A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which
she had been turned away because it "was too crowded." 

 

"I can't go to Sunday School," she sobbed to the pastor
as he walked by.

Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed
the reason and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and
found a place for her in the Sunday school class.

The child was so touched that she went to bed that night
thinking of the children who have no place to worship
Jesus.

Some two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor
tenement buildings and the parents called for the kind-hearted
pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the

final arrangements.

As her poor little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled
purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from
some trash dump. Inside was found 57 cents and a note
scribbled in childish handwriting which read, "This is to help
build the little church bigger so more children can go to Sunday

School." For two years she had saved for this offering of love.
When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly
what he would do.

Carrying this note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the
pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion.
He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money
for the larger building. But the story does not end there!

A newspaper learned of the story and published it. It was
read by a Realtor who offered them a parcel of land worth
 many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so
much, he offered it for 57 cents. Church members made large

donations. Checks came from far and wide. Within five years
the little girl's gift had increased to $250,000.00--a huge
sum for that time (near the turn of the century). Her unsel
fish love had paid large dividend.

When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple
Baptist Church, with a seating capacity of 3,300 and Temple

University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a
look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday
School building which houses hundreds of Sunday Schoolers,
 so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside
during Sunday school time.

In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture
of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so
sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside
of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russell H. Conwell,
author of the book, "Acres of Diamonds"

Amazing what God can do with 57 cents.

~Based on a true story by Dr. Russell H. Conwell~

Designed by

Stella

Follow Your Dreams

I have a friend named Monty Roberts who owns a horse ranch in

San Ysidro. He has let me use his house to put on fund-raising

events to raise money for youth at risk programs.

The last time I was there he introduced me by saying, "I want

to tell you why I let Jack use my house. It all goes back to a

story about a young man who was the son of an itinerant horse

trainer who would go from stable to stable, race track to race track,

farm to farm and ranch to ranch, training horses. As a result,

the boy's high school career was continually interrupted. When he

was a senior, he was asked to write a paper about what he

wanted to be and do when he grew up.

"That night he wrote a seven-page paper describing his goal of

someday owning a horse ranch. He wrote about his dream in great

detail and he even drew a diagram of a 200-acre ranch, showing

the location of all the buildings, the stables and the track. Then he

drew a detailed floor plan for a 4,000-square-foot house that would

 sit on a 200-acre dream ranch.

"He put a great deal of his heart into the project and the next

 day he handed it in to his teacher. Two days later he received

 his paper back. On the front page was a large red F with a

note that read, 'See me after class.'

"The boy with the dream went to see the teacher after class

 and asked, 'Why did I receive an F?'

"The teacher said, 'This is an unrealistic dream for a young boy

like you. You have no money. You come from an itinerant family.

 You have no resources. Owning a horse ranch requires a

lot of money. You have to buy the land. You have to pay for the

original breeding stock and later you'll have to pay large stud fees.

There's no way you could ever do it.' Then the teacher added,

'If you will rewrite this paper with a more realistic goal, I will

reconsider your grade.'

"The boy went home and thought about it long and hard. He

asked his father what he should do. His father said, 'Look, son,

you have to make up your own mind on this. However, I think

 it is a very important decision for you.'

"Finally, after sitting with it for a week, the boy turned in the

same paper, making no changes at all. He stated, `You can

keep the F and I'll keep my dream.'"

Monty then turned to the assembled group and said, "I tell

you this story because you are sitting in my 4,000-square-

foot house in the middle of my 200-acre horse ranch. I

 still have that school paper framed over the fireplace."

He added, "The best part of the story is that two summers ago

that same schoolteacher brought 30 kids to camp out on my

ranch for a week." When the teacher was leaving, he said, 'Look,

 Monty, I can tell you this now. When I was your teacher,

I was something of a dream stealer. During those years I stole

 a lot of kids' dreams. Fortunately you had enough gumption

not to give up on yours.'"

"Don't let anyone steal the dreams God gives you. Follow your

heart, no matter what."

~By Jack Canfield~
from "Chicken Soup For The Soul",
edited by Jack Canfield & Mark Victor Hansen

Designed by
Stella

 



The White Gardenia

Every year on my birthday, from the time I turned 12,
one white gardenia was delivered anonymously to me at
my house. There was never a card or note, and calls to
the florist were in vain, because the purchase was always
made in cash. After a while, I stopped trying to discover
the identity of the sender. I just delighted in the beauty
and heady perfume of that one magical, perfect white
flower nestled in folds of soft pink tissue paper. But I
never stopped imagining who the sender might be. Some
of my happiest moments were spent in day dreams about
someone wonderful and exciting, but too shy or eccentric
to make known his or her identity. In my teen years, it was
fun to speculate that the sender might be a boy I had a crush
on, or even someone I didn't know who had noticed me.

My mother often contributed to my speculations. She'd ask
me if there was someone for whom I had done a special kindness,
who might be showing appreciation anonymously. She reminded
me of the times when I'd been riding my bike and our neighbor
drove up with her car full of groceries and children. I always
helped her unload the car and made sure the children didn't
run into the road. Or maybe the mystery sender was the old
man across the street. I often retrieved his mail during the
winter, so he wouldn't have to venture down his icy steps.

My mother did her best to foster my imagination about the
gardenia. She wanted her children to be creative. She also
wanted us to feel cherished and loved, not just by her, but
by the world at large.

When I was 17, a boy broke my heart. The night he called
for the last time, I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke in
the morning, there was a message scribbled on my mirror in
red lipstick: "Heartily know, when half-gods go, the gods
arrive." I thought about that quotation from Emerson for a
long time, and I left it where my mother had written it until
my heart healed. When I finally went for the glass cleaner,
my mother knew that everything was all right again.

But there were some hurts my mother couldn't heal. A month

before my high school graduation, my father died suddenly
of a heart attack. My feelings ranged from simple grief

to abandonment, fear, distrust and overwhelming anger that my
dad was missing some of the most important events in my life.

I became completely uninterested in my upcoming graduation,

the senior-class play and the prom - events that I had worked

on and looked forward to. I even considered staying home to

attend college instead of going away as I had planned because

it felt safer.

My mother, in the midst of her own grief, wouldn't hear of me
missing out on any of these things. The day before my father
died, she and I had gone shopping for a prom dress and had
found a spectacular one -- yards and yards of dotted Swiss
in red, white and blue. Wearing it made me feel like Scarlett
O'Hara. But it was the wrong size, and when my father died
the next day, I forgot all about the dress.

My mother didn't. The day before the prom, I found the

dress waiting for me -- in the right size. It was draped
majestically over the living room sofa, presented to me
artistically and lovingly. I may not have cared about having
a new dress, but my mother did.

She cared how we children felt about ourselves. She imbued
us with a sense of the magic in the world, and she gave us the
ability to see beauty even in the face of adversity.

In truth, my mother wanted her children to see themselves
much like the gardenia -- lovely, strong, perfect, with an aura
of magic and perhaps a bit of mystery.

My mother died when I was 22, only 10 days after I was
married.

That was the year the gardenias stopped coming.

~By Marsha Arons~
from "Chicken Soup For A Woman's Soul"

Designed by
Stella