Trust You'll Treat Her Well

By Dan Valentine

Dear World:

I bequeath to you today one little girl, in a crispy dress, with two blue eyes, and a happy laugh that ripples all day long and a flash of light blonde hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs. I trust you'll treat her well.

She's slipping out of the backyard of my heart this morning ... and skipping off down the street to her first day of school. And never again will she be completely mine. Prim and proud she'll wave her young and independent hand this morning and say "Good Bye", and walk with little lady steps to the schoolhouse.

Now she'll learn to stand in line , and wait by the alphabet for her name to be called. She'll learn to tune her ears to the sounds of school-bells, and deadlines, and she'll learn to giggle, and gossip, and look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the little boy across the aisle sticks out his tongue at her.

And now she'll learn to be jealous. And now she'll learn how it is to feel hurt inside. And now she'll learn how not to cry.

No longer will she have time to sit on the front porch steps on a summer day and watch an ant scurry across the crack in a sidewalk. Nor will she have time to pop out of bed with the dawn to kiss lilac blossoms in the morning dew.

No, now she'll worry about important things.

Like grades, and which dress to wear, and who's best friend is whose. And the magic of books and learning will replace the magic of her blocks and dolls.

And now she'll find new heroes.

For five full years now I've been her sage and Santa Claus and pal and playmate and father and friend. Now she'll learn to share her worship with her teachers, which is only right. But, no longer will I be the smartest man in the whole world.

Today when that school bell rings for the first time, she'll learn what it means to be a member of a group. With all it's privileges. And it's disadvantages too.

She'll learn in time that proper young ladies do not laugh out loud. Or kiss dogs. Or keep frogs in pickle jars in bedrooms. Or even watch ants scurry across cracks in the summer sidewalk.

Today she'll learn for the first time that all who smile at her are not her friends. And I'll stand on the front porch and watch her start out on the long, lonely journey to become a woman.

So, World. I bequeath to you today one little girl, in a crispy dress, with two blue eyes and a happy laugh that ripples all day long, and a flash of light blonde hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs. I trust you'll treat her well.

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I Loved You Enough

By Erma Bombeck

Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a parent, I will tell them:

I loved you enough to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.

I loved you enough to insist that you save your money and buy a bike for yourself even though we could afford to buy one for you.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.

I loved you enough to make you go pay for the bubble gum you had taken and tell the clerk, "I stole this yesterday and want to pay for it".

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment and tears in my eyes. Children must learn that their parents are not perfect.

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.

But most of all, I loved you enough to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it.

Those were the most difficult battles of all. I am glad I won them, because in the end you won, too.

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The Bicycle Called Life

By Bernadette Ballezza

For my 8th birthday, my gift was a shiny blue bike. My older sisters decided to teach me to ride. We lived on Edgewood Avenue at the top of a steep hill. My sisters, Agnes and Christina, put me on my bike and pushed me hard, yelling instructions, "Peddle! Steer! Use the brakes!" Needless to say, I was hurled down the street wildly trying to hold on.

I slammed into the curb, flying over the handlebars onto the sidewalk, skinning my knees, bruising my hands and crying loudly. Instead of offering sympathy, my sisters yelled at me because I hadn't listen to their instructions. Weeks passed before I tried again. This time I walked my bike to the empty parking lot behind the schoolyard. I kept repeating the instructions to myself and after a few awkward attempts and even more painful spills, I learned to ride a bike.

Learning life lessons are a lot like learning to ride a bike. Some life lessons are painful to learn. We don't always get to choose where we learn them, we don't always have good teachers and we are not always ready. Sometimes we find ourselves wildly trying to hold on.

My husband, Rich, taught my sons to ride a bike. First, he raised their training wheels slightly and they rode around the block getting used to the unsteady feeling. After he removed the training wheels he would run along side the bike holding on to the seat to steady them. Up and down our street they would go with Rich calling out, "You almost have it! You're doing great!" until my son would call out "Let go". Rich would let go but still run along, just in case. It was a happy day in the neighborhood.

When life lessons come along in this New Year, and they will, may you learn them from a patient and kind teacher. May you learn them surrounded by support and encouragement. And may you have someone stay by your side until you have found victory.

Also, may you never find yourself on a bike at the top of Edgewood Avenue with my sisters behind you.

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15 Minutes

By Irene Budzynski

It was going to be a long trip back home after a week on the West Coast, so the young man settled himself on the plane and picked up a book.

Exhausted from a whirlwind visit with his old college roommate, all he wanted to do was to stretch out his long frame and read to pass the time. He wasn't thrilled with the thought of having to make two plane changes, but he decided to make the best of what promised to be a boring day. The weather was spectacular and takeoff from Los Angeles was prompt. He knew for certain that he'd make his connecting flight in Texas.

He hadn't, however, counted on the constant chatter of a little girl sitting next to him.

It didn't take long for him to figure out that she was traveling alone. Initially, he nodded his head and answered her questions, but, when she spilled her orange juice he knew it was time to close the cover of the novel and give her the attention she needed. There would be no isolating himself.

After he cleaned her mess and got her settled again, the two of them began to chat. It was then that he discovered why she was unaccompanied. A child of divorce, she had been visiting her father and his new wife for a month and was now winging her way to the Southwest. She had hated the 30 days spent in California, didn't get along with her stepmother, and never, ever wanted to return. It was obvious that she missed her mother and grandmother and she talked nonstop about them. The loneliness didn't need to be explained. Her face spoke volumes.

At the approximate time of landing, the plane began to circle repeatedly over the airport, but there was no indication it would be touching ground. A routine occurrence at the major airports, he didn't give it a second thought. He was relaxing during the final moments before landing, relieved that the first leg of the trip was over.

So deep in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear the captain's voice competing with the din of the engines and the cacophonous cabin. It was only when a deathly pall settled over the passengers that the seatmates looked at each other with alarm and heard a most unsettling message.

The plane's flaps weren't operating properly, and the captain was declaring an emergency situation. The passengers were to follow the stewardesses' instructions, and to prepare for an unusually fast landing. They reviewed how to use the slide to exit the plane and everybody crouched over, arms gripping legs, heads down. The captain and crew maintained a steady stream of calm professionalism, but it wasn't enough to still the passengers' wildly beating hearts.

Panic set in and the little girl began to cry, "I love you, Mommy! I love you, Mommy," as the young man put his arm around her shoulders and rocked her, telling her that he was there to help her, and that everything would be all right. He didn't believe it, but she didn't need to know that. He was too terrified to think. If it was so traumatic for him, a 27 year old man, what was it like for a 12 year old who had no family with her? If he acted confident, surely the power to play the role would follow.

Crying and calling out, she held onto him for dear life as the plane descended in dizzying speeds. Thoughts of his own family streaked through his mind, but he couldn't allow himself the luxury of removing his focus from her. He calmly reminded her of what she needed to do and reassured her that she would see her mother again. Did she believe him? Could she sense his terror?

After what had felt like a lifetime, the wheels touched terra firma. Intact. Unhurt. The entire incident took 15 minutes, a quarter of an hour he would never forget for the rest of time. Passengers bolted upright, looking outside to reassure themselves that they had survived what could have been a horrible disaster.

After the cheers subsided and the captain, with audible relief, thanked his crew and the travelers, the girl turned to her adopted guardian and gave him a bear hug, whispering, "Thank you for being my friend," before running into the arms of the two most precious people in her world.

Why were they brought together on that particular flight to become seatmates? A frightened child needed a protector in a crisis situation, and an unassuming young man, who didn't know he had the valor to sustain them both for 15 minutes, was provided.

The young man?

Late that night, my son, my hero, came home.

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Making Memories

By Tonna Canfield

After eating breakfast, my little girl says, "Mommy, will you watch this show with me?" I look at the breakfast dishes in the sink and then at her big brown eyes.

"Okay," I say, and we snuggle together on the couch and watch her favorite show.

After the show, we put together a puzzle and I head for the kitchen to wash those dirty dishes when the phone rings. "Hi," my friend says, "What have you been doing?"

"Well," I say, "watching my little one's favorite show with her and putting together a puzzle."

"Oh," she says, "so you're not busy today."

No, I think to myself, just busy making memories.

After lunch, Erica says, "Mommy, please play a game with me." Now I am looking at not only the breakfast dishes but also the lunch dishes piled in the sink. But again, I look at those big brown eyes and I remember how special it felt when my mom played games with me when I was a little girl.

"Sounds like fun," I answer, "but just one game." We play her favorite game, and I can tell she is delighting in every moment.

When the game ends, she says, "Please read me a story."

"Okay," I say, "but just one."

After reading her favorite story, I head for the kitchen to tackle those dishes. With the dishes now done, I start to fix supper. My willing little helper comes eagerly to the kitchen to help me with my task. I'm running behind and thinking about how much faster I could do this if my sweet little one would just go play or watch a video, but her willingness to help and her eagerness to learn how to do what her mommy is doing melts my heart, and I say, "Okay, you can help," knowing it will probably take twice as long.

As supper is about ready, my husband comes home from work and asks, "What did you do today?"

I answer, "Let's see, we watched her favorite show and we played a game and read a book. I did the dishes and vacuumed; then with my little helper, I fixed supper."

"Great," he says, "I'm glad you didn't have a busy day today."

But I was busy, I think to myself, busy making memories.

After supper, Erica says, "Let's bake cookies."

"Okay," I say, "let's bake cookies."

After baking cookies, once again I am staring at a mountain of dishes from supper and cookie baking, but with the smell of warm cookies consuming the house, I pour us a glass of cold milk and fill a plate with warm cookies and take them to the table. We gather around the table eating cookies, drinking milk, talking and making memories.

No sooner have I tackled those dishes than my little sweetie comes tugging at my shirt, saying, "Could we take a walk?"

"Okay," I say, "let's take a walk." The second time around the block I'm thinking about the mountain of laundry that I need to get started on and the dust encompassing our home; but I feel the warmth of her hand in mine and the sweetness of our conversation as she enjoys my undivided attention, and I decide at least once more around the block sounds like a good idea.

When we get home, my husband asks, "Where have you been?"

"We've been making memories," I say.

A load in the wash and, my little girl all bathed and in her gown, the tiredness begins to creep in as she says, "Let's fix each other's hair."

I'm so tired! my mind is saying, but I hear my mouth saying, "Okay, let's brush each other's hair." With that task complete, she jumps up excitedly, "Let's paint each other's nails! Please!" So she paints my toenails, and I paint her fingernails, and we read a book while waiting for our nails to dry. I have to turn the pages, of course, because her fingernails are still drying.

We put away the book and say our prayers. My husband peeks his head in the door, "What are my girls doing?" he asks.

"Making memories," I answer.

"Mommy," she says, "will you lay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yes," I say, but inside I'm thinking, I hope she falls asleep quickly so I can get up; I have so much to do.

About that time, two precious little arms encircle my neck as she whispers, "Mommy, nobody but God loves you as much as I do." I feel the tears roll down my cheeks as I thank God for the day we spent making memories.

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The Hot Water Bottle

By Helen Roseveare

One night, in Central Africa, I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all that we could do, she died leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying, two-year-old daughter.

We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive. We had no incubator. We had no electricity to run an incubator, and no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts.

A student-midwife went for the box we had for such babies and for the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly, in distress, to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "...and it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk; so, in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over a burst water bottle. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with many of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chilled. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.

During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt consciousness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, the baby'll be dead; so, please send it this afternoon." While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, " ...And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?" As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot.

Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything: The Bible says so, but there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time that I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel! I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone; so, I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box.

From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then, there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children began to look a little bored. Next, came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - - that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. As I put my hand in again, I felt the...could it really be? I grasped it, and pulled it out. Yes, "A brand-new rubber, hot water bottle!" I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could.

Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!" Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone: She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked, "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday School class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. One of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "That afternoon!"

"And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." Isaiah 65:24

(Helen Roseveare is a doctor missionary from England to Zaire, Africa

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Paradox Of Our Times

By Dr. Bob Moorehead

We have taller buildings but shorter tempers; wider freeways but narrower viewpoints; we spend more but have less; we buy more but enjoy it less; we have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, yet less time; we have more degrees but less sense; more knowledge but less judgement; more experts, yet more problems; we have more gadgets but less satisfaction; more medicine, yet less wellness; we take more vitamins but see fewer results.

We drink too much; smoke too much; spend too recklessly; laugh too little; drive too fast; get too angry quickly; stay up too late; get up too tired; read too seldom; watch TV too much and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values; we fly in faster planes to arrive there quicker, to do less and return sooner; we sign more contracts only to realize fewer profits; we talk too much; love too seldom and lie too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things; we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less; we make faster planes, but longer lines; we learned to rush, but not to wait; we have more weapons, but less peace; higher incomes, but lower morals; more parties, but less fun; more food, but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort, but less success.

We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; drive smaller cars that have bigger problems; build larger factories that produce less.

We've become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, but short character; steep in profits, but shallow relationships.

These are times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun; higher postage, but slower mail; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorces; these are times of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, cartridge living, thow-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies and pills that do everything from cheer, to prevent, quiet or kill.

It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stock room.

Indeed, these are the times!

(Also read, More Experts - Dalai Lama)

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Famous 'Failures'

Author Unknown

A person may make mistakes, but is not a failure until he or she starts blaming someone else. We must believe in ourselves, and somewhere along the road of life we will meet someone who sees greatness in us and lets us know it. Don't believe me? Then, let them tell you.

Einstein was 4 years old before he could speak.

Isaac Newton did poorly in grade school and was considered "unpromising."

When Thomas Edison was a youngster, his teacher told him he was too stupid to learn anything. He was counseled to go into a field where he might succeed by virtue of his pleasant personality.

F.W. Woolworth got a job in a dry goods store when he was 21, but his boss would not permit him to wait on customers because he "didn't have enough sense to close a sale."

Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team.

Bob Cousy, a legendary Boston Celtic basketball player, suffered the same fate, but he too is a Hall of Famer.

Babe Ruth struck out 1,300 times, a major league record.

A newspaper editor fired Walt Disney because he "lacked imagination and had no original ideas."

Winston Churchill failed 6th grade and had to repeat it because he did not complete the tests that were required for promotion.

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I Wanted To Change The World

By Unknown Monk

When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world.

I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation.

When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family.

Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family.

My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.

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Crazy People, Crazy Dreams

Author Unknown

In 1883, a creative engineer named John Roebling was inspired by an idea to build a spectacular bridge connecting New York with the Long Island. However bridge building experts throughout the world thought that this was an impossible feat and told Roebling to forget the idea. It just could not be done. It was not practical. It had never been done before.

Roebling could not ignore the vision he had in his mind of this bridge. He thought about it all the time and he knew deep in his heart that it could be done. He just had to share the dream with someone else. After much discussion and persuasion he managed to convince his son Washington, an up and coming engineer, that the bridge in fact could be built.

Working together for the first time, the father and son developed concepts of how it could be accomplished and how the obstacles could be overcome. With great excitement and inspiration, and the headiness of a wild challenge before them, they hired their crew and began to build their dream bridge.

The project started well, but when it was only a few months underway a tragic accident on the site took the life of John Roebling. Washington was also injured and left with a certain amount of brain damage, which resulted in him not being able to talk or walk.

“We told them so.” “Crazy men and their crazy dreams.” “It’s foolish to chase wild visions.”

Everyone had a negative comment to make and felt that the project should be scrapped since the Roeblings were the only ones who knew how the bridge could be built.

In spite of his handicap Washington was never discouraged and still had a burning desire to complete the bridge and his mind was still as sharp as ever. He tried to inspire and pass on his enthusiasm to some of his friends, but they were too daunted by the task.

As he lay on his bed in his hospital room, with the sunlight streaming through the windows, a gentle breeze blew the flimsy white curtains apart and he was able to see the sky and the tops of the trees outside for just a moment.

It seemed that there was a message for him not to give up. Suddenly an idea hit him. All he could do was move one finger and he decided to make the best use of it. By moving this, he slowly developed a code of communication with his wife.

He touched his wife’s arm with that finger, indicating to her that he wanted her to call the engineers again. Then he used the same method of tapping her arm to tell the engineers what to do. It seemed foolish but the project was under way again.

For 13 years Washington tapped out his instructions with his finger on his wife’s arm, until the bridge was finally completed. Today the spectacular Brooklyn Bridge stands in all its glory as a tribute to the triumph of one man’s indomitable spirit and his determination not to be defeated by circumstances. It is also a tribute to the engineers and their team work, and to their faith in a man who was considered mad by half the world. It stands too as a tangible monument to the love and devotion of his wife who for 13 long years patiently decoded the messages of her husband and told the engineers what to do.

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Laxmi Hariharan - When Indie Met the Establishment!

When Indie met the establishment!

by Laxmi Hariharan 

Cut to twelve months ago—as a just born Indie, I listened to Kate Mosse (author Labyrinth) talk about how she was not on Facebook, Twitter or any of those necessary evils, which help Indie authors like myself build a platform. On a panel discussion she made it very clear that she preferred not to have her peace of mind destroyed by social media chatter, in order to really focus inwards and write. 

A fellow author confessed how she was beyond the point of being a social media junkie—she stayed connected even when she took her dog for a walk. It was clear to me that as a writer and a marketer I needed to find the sweet spot somewhere between the two. I needed to become a spider—a black widow?— an arachnid who sat square in the entre of a 720 degree social network web, and controlled everything that went around me, not the other way around. 

It was about choice. I absolutely had the right to decide when I wanted to dip in and went I wanted to unplug. Isn’t that being an Indie author was all about.

Exercising your right to be read, to be seen and heard unadulterated by veils. Just one of the many insights I gained from attending the writing in a digital age conference, held by TLC. I will be back at the 2013 instalment of the same, as part of the storytime sessions, talking about where I am twelve months on—wiser, more confident, and in the throes of completing Return to 7 Islands (#2 Bombay Chronicles.) 

If you are wondering whether to go Indie or if you are Indie and pondering what next, then this is where you want to be. You will get the chance to meet fellow Indie’s as well as published authors, publishers, and agents too (some of them are really nice too I promise.) 

Writing in a Digital Age, tickets on sale till June 6^th. 

Laxmi Hariharan is a content branding strategist and award winning author of epic fantasy. Find her at LAXMIwrites

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Would You Have Kept Going?

By Natasha Althoff-Kelley

A doctor by the name of Judah Folkman kept in his archives an article printed in the New York Times written by two physics professors explaining how it would never be possible for aeroplanes to fly. Three months later the Wright brothers soared through the air at Kitty Hawk.

Folkman had proposed in 1970 an idea that conflicted with what scientists at the time knew. He proposed that tumours generated new blood vessels to feed themselves and grow. He was ridiculed, and met with hostility and told that his study was futile science. At a research convention, when he showed his ideas half the audience walked out. For two decades he kept going, despite everyone else's opinions and reactions.

My question is: Would you have kept going? Today he has helped over 100,000 cancer patients from his research and he is considered to be a leader in the fight to cure cancer.

Michael Jordan was cut from the varsity basketball team in his first year at high school.

My question is: Would you have kept going? Michael did double the practice of every other player on the team and went on to become the best basketball player of all time.

Colonel Sanders, the father of legendary fast food chain KFC was broke, with only a small house and an old car to his name. He was 65 years old. He decided to sell his chicken recipe to restaurants for free in return for a small percentage on the chicken sold. He was rejected over 1000 times.

My question is: Would you have kept going? He got 1009 rejections to his proposal before he got his first 'yes'. With that one success Colonel Hartland Sanders changed the eating habits of the whole world with Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC).

Bruce Lee studied and mastered kung fu but all he really wanted was to be an actor. He obtained some small roles in TV and film but thought his big break had arrived when he heard there was to be a new TV series called "Kung Fu" and they were looking for a new star. He had a successful screen test but in the end the role was given to David Carradine.

My question is: Would you have kept going? He was offered and starred in many film roles after that and his reputation as an actor and his skills in the martial arts made him a household name.

Fred Smith was a student at Yale studying economics. He wrote a paper disagreeing with his professor about air-freight through passenger planes, and instead proposed having separate planes dedicated to mail and not people. The professor gave him a low grade.

Fred was not discouraged and went out to tell others of his idea and to get investors. He was met with disinterest. However his passion and his courage to his convictions served him well and he raised $91 million on his untested idea.

FEDEX was born and in the first few years the losses amounted to millions of dollars. The investors wanted to remove Fred and get someone else to take over the company.

My question is: Would you have kept going? Fred did not lose faith, he worked night and day to solve the operational problems and that resulted in $75 million revenue with $3.6 million profits. Today FEDEX is a multi-million dollar company.

W. Mitchell was a good looking 28 year old on top of the world! He had finally saved enough money for his dream motorbike and life was good. A traffic accident left him with a crushed elbow and pelvis and burns to 75% of his body. His face was burned beyond recognition and his fingers and thumbs had been burnt off leaving him with two stumps where his hands used to be.

My question is: Would you have kept going? After 6 months of rehabilitation he came across an idea for a stove company. He thought to himself 'hmmm I know a bit about fire' so he co-founded Vermont casting Inc which became Vermont's second largest employer. With the profits he was making he bought himself a personal aeroplane and despite the physical barrier of having no hands, he learnt to fly.

Mitchell thought he was on top of the world again. Life was good and he had achieved so much.

However on a routine flight to San Francisco - a flight Mitchell had made many times before - the plane malfunctioned and crashed. There were four others in the plane and they all walked out. Everyone except for Mitchell. He had crushed his twelfth thoracic vertebrae and he would never be able to use his legs again. He needed a wheelchair.

My question is: Would you have kept going? He says about the accidents: 'Before my accidents, there were ten thousands things I could do. I could spend the rest of my life dwelling on the one thousands that I had lost, but I instead chose to focus on the nine thousands I still had left'.

Mitchell is still a director of the board to a number of companies, and is a successful businessman. He is also a co-founding chairman of a $65 million company.

What is the point of these stories I am telling you? Whatever you take out of these stories is the message you are ready to hear right now. To me the theme of this article is persistence. I go. Until. No buts, maybes, excuses, could of, would of, should of. Just I do. Until.

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Getting Up Again

By Craig Larson

Bringing a giraffe into the world is a tall order. A baby giraffe falls 10 feet from its mother's womb and usually lands on its back. Within seconds it rolls over and tucks its legs under its body. From this position it considers the world for the first time and shakes off the last vestiges of the birthing fluid from its eyes and ears. Then the mother giraffe rudely introduces its offspring to the reality of life.

In his book, A View from the Zoo, Gary Richmond describes how a newborn giraffe learns its first lesson. The mother giraffe lowers her head long enough to take a quick look. Then she positions herself directly over her calf. She waits for about a minute, and then she does the most unreasonable thing. She swings her long, pendulous leg outward and kicks her baby, so that it is sent sprawling head over heels.

When it doesn't get up, the violent process is repeated over and over again. The struggle to rise is momentous. As the baby calf grows tired, the mother kicks it again to stimulate its efforts. Finally, the calf stands for the first time on its wobbly legs. Then the mother giraffe does the most remarkable thing. She kicks it off its feet again. Why?

She wants it to remember how it got up. In the wild, baby giraffes must be able to get up as quickly as possible to stay with the herd, where there is safety. Lions, hyenas, leopards, and wild hunting dogs all enjoy young giraffes, and they'd get it too, if the mother didn't teach her calf to get up quickly and get with it.

The late Irving Stone understood this. He spent a lifetime studying greatness, writing novelized biographies of such men as Michelangelo, Vincent van Gogh, Sigmund Freud, and Charles Darwin. Stone was once asked if he had found a thread that runs through the lives of all these exceptional people.

He said, "I write about people who sometime in their life have a vision or dream of something that should be accomplished and they go to work. "They are beaten over the head, knocked down, vilified, and for years they get nowhere. But every time they're knocked down they stand up. You cannot destroy these people. And at the end of their lives they've accomplished some modest part of what they set out to do."

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Strange, Different But Miraculous

Author Unknown

On a December night in Chicago, a little girl climbed onto her father's lap and asked a question. It was a simple question, asked in children's curiosity, yet it had a heart-rending effect on Robert May.

"Daddy," four-year old Barbara asked, "Why isn't my Mommy just like everybody else's mommy?"

Bob May stole a glance across his shabby two room apartment. On a couch lay his young wife, Evelyn, racked with cancer. For two years she had been bedridden; for two years, all Bob's income and smaller savings had gone to pay for treatments and medicines.

The terrible ordeal already had shattered two adult lives. Now Bob suddenly realized the happiness of his growing daughter was also in jeopardy. As he ran his fingers through Barbara's hair, he prayed for some satisfactory answer to her question.

Bob May knew only too well what it meant to be "different." As a child he had been weak and delicate. With the innocent cruelty of children, his playmates had continually goaded the stunted, skinny lad to tears. Later at Dartmouth, from which he was graduated in 1926, Bob May was so small that he was always being mistaken for someone's little brother.

Nor was his adult life much happier. Unlike many of his classmates who floated from college into plush jobs, Bob became a lowly copy writer for Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. Now at 33, Bob was deep in debt, depressed and sad.

Although Bob did not know it at the time, the answer he gave the tousled haired child on his lap was to bring him to fame and fortune. It was also to bring joy to countless thousands of children like his own Barbara. On that December night in the shabby Chicago apartment, Bob cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began to tell a story.

"Once upon a time there was a reindeer named Rudolph, the only reindeer in the world that had a big red nose. Naturally people called him Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." As Bob went on to tell about Rudolph, he tried desperately to communicate to Barbara the knowledge that, even though some creatures of God are strange and different, they often enjoy the miraculous power to make others happy.

Rudolph, Bob explained, was terribly embarrassed by his unique nose. Other reindeer laughed at him; his mother and father and sister were mortified too.

Even Rudolph wallowed in self pity.

"Well," continued Bob, "one Christmas Eve, Santa Claus got his team of husky reindeer - Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixon ready for their yearly trip around the world. The entire reindeer community assembled to cheer these great heroes on their way. But a terrible fog engulfed the earth that evening, and Santa knew that the mist was so thick he wouldn't be able to find any chimney.

Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever. Santa sensed at once that here was the answer to his perplexing problem. He led Rudolph to the front of the sleigh, fastened the harness and climbed in.

They were off! Rudolph guided Santa safely to every chimney that night. Rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph, for his bright nose penetrated the mist like a beacon.

And so it was that Rudolph became the most famous and beloved of all the reindeer. The huge red nose he once hid in shame was now the envy of every buck and doe in the reindeer world. Santa Claus told everyone that Rudolph had saved the day and from that Christmas, Rudolph has been living serenely and happy."

Little Barbara laughed with glee when her father finished. Every night she begged him to repeat the tale until finally Bob could rattle it off in his sleep. Then, at Christmas time he decided to make the story into a poem like "The Night Before Christmas" and prepare it in bookish form illustrated with pictures, for Barbara's personal gift. Night after night, Bob worked on the verses after Barbara had gone to bed for he was determined his daughter should have a worthwhile gift, even though he could not afford to buy one.

Then as Bob was about to put the finishing touches on Rudolph, tragedy struck.

Evelyn May died. Bob, his hopes crushed, turned to Barbara as chief comfort. Yet, despite his grief, he sat at his desk in the quiet, now lonely apartment, and worked on "Rudolph" with tears in his eyes.

Shortly after Barbara had cried with joy over his handmade gift on Christmas morning, Bob was asked to an employee's holiday party at Montgomery Wards. He didn't want to go, but his office associates insisted. When Bob finally agreed, he took with him the poem and read it to the crowd. First the noisy throng listened in laughter and gaiety. Then they became silent, and at the end, broke into spontaneous applause. That was in 1938.

By Christmas of 1947, some 6 million copies of the booklet had been given away or sold, making Rudolph one of the most widely distributed books in the world. The demand for Rudolph sponsored products, increased so much in variety and number that educators and historians predicted Rudolph would come to occupy a permanent place in the Christmas legend.

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Telephones, Who Would Want To Use Them?

Author Unknown

In 1962, four nervous young musicians played their first record audition for the executives of the Decca Recording company. The executives were not impressed. While turning down this group of musicians, one executive said, "We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out." The group was called The Beatles.

In 1944, Emmeline Snively, director of the Blue Book Modeling Agency, told modeling hopeful Norma Jean Baker, "You'd better learn secretarial work or else get married." She went on and became Marilyn Monroe.

In 1954, Jimmy Denny, manager of the Grand Ole Opry fired a singer after one performance. He told him, "You ain't goin' nowhere son. You ought to go back to drivin' a truck." He went on to become the most popular singer in America, named Elvis Presley.

When Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone in 1876, it did not ring off the hook with calls from potential backers. After making a demonstration call, President Rutherford Hayes said, "That's an amazing invention, but who would ever want to use one of them?"

When Thomas Edison invented the light bulb, he tried over 2000 experiments before he got it to work. A young reporter asked him how it felt to fail so many times. He said, "I never failed once. I invented the light bulb. It just happened to be a 2000-step process."

In the 1940's, another young inventor named Chester Carlson took his idea to 20 corporations, including some of the biggest in the country. They all turned him down. In 1947 - after seven long years of rejections! He finally got a tiny company in Rochester, New York, the Haloid Company, to purchase the rights to his invention, an electrostatic paper-copying process. Haloid became Xerox Corporation we know today.

Wilma Rudolph was the 20th of 22 children. She was born prematurely and her survival was doubtful. When she was 4 years old, she contacted double pneumonia and scarlet fever, which left her with a paralyzed left leg. At age 9, she removed the metal leg brace she had been dependent on and began to walk without it. By 13 she had developed rhythmic walk, which doctors said was a miracle. That same year she decided to become a runner. She entered a race and came in last. For the next few years every race she entered, she came in last. Everyone told her to quit, but she kept on running. One day she actually won a race. And then another. From then on she won every race she entered. Eventually this little girl, who was told she would never walk again, went on to win three Olympic gold medals.

The moral of the above stories: Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experiences of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved.

You gain strength, experience and confidence by every experience where you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you cannot do. And remember, the finest steel gets sent through the hottest furnace. A winner is not one who never fails, but one who never quits! In life, remember that you pass this way only once! Let's live life to the fullest and give it our best.

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17 Rules For A Better Way To Live

By Og Mandino

Rule One - Count your blessings. Once you realize how valuable you are and how much you have going for you, the smiles will return, the sun will break out, the music will play, and you will finally be able to move forward the life that God intended for you... with grace, strength, courage, and confidence.

Rule Two - Today, and every day, deliver more than you are getting paid to do. The victory of success will be half won when you learn the secret of putting out more than is expected in all that you do. Make yourself so valuable in your work that eventually you will become indispensable. Exercise your privilege to go the extra mile, and enjoy all the rewards you receive. You deserve them!

Rule Three - Whenever you make a mistake or get knocked down by life, don't look back at it too long. Mistakes are life's way of teaching you. Your capacity for occasional blunders is inseparable from your capacity to reach your goals. No one wins them all, and your failures, when they happen, are just part of your growth. Shake off your blunders. How will you know your limits without an occasional failure? Never quit. Your turn will come.

Rule Four - Always reward your long hours of labor and toil in the very best way, surrounded by your family. Nurture their love carefully, remembering that your children need models, not critics, and your own progress will hasten when you constantly strive to present your best side to your children. And even if you have failed at all else in the eyes of the world, if you have a loving family, you are a success.

Rule Five - Build this day on a foundation of pleasant thoughts. Never fret at any imperfections that you fear may impede your progress. Remind yourself, as often as necessary, that you are a creature of God and have the power to achieve any dream by lifting up your thoughts. You can fly when you decide that you can. Never consider yourself defeat again. Let the vision in your heart be in your life's blueprint. Smile!

Rule Six - Let your actions always speak for you, but be forever on guard against the terrible traps of false pride and conceit that can halt your progress. The next time you are tempted to boast, just place your fist in a full pail of water, and when you remove it, the hole remaining will give you a correct measure of your importance.

Rule Seven - Each day is a special gift from God, and while life may not always be fair, you must never allow the pains, hurdles, and handicaps of the moment to poison your attitude and plans for yourself and your future. You can never win when you wear the ugly cloak of self-pity, and the sour sound of whining will certainly frighten away any opportunity for success. Never again. There is a better way.

Rule Eight - Never again clutter your days or nights with so many menial and unimportant things that you have no time to accept a real challenge when it comes along. This applies to play as well as work. A day merely survived is no cause for celebration. You are not here to fritter away your precious hours when you have the ability to accomplish so much by making a slight change in your routine. No more busy work. No more hiding from success. Leave time, leave space, to grow. Now. Now! Not tomorrow!

Rule Nine - Live this day as if it will be your last. Remember that you will only find "tomorrow" on the calendars of fools. Forget yesterday's defeats and ignore the problems of tomorrow. This is it. Doomsday. All you have. Make it the best day of your year. The saddest words you can ever utter are, "If I had my life to live over again..."Take the baton, now. Run with it! This is your day!

Rule Ten - Beginning today, treat everyone you meet, friend or foe, loved one or stranger, as if they were going to be dead at midnight. Extend to each person, no matter how trivial the contact, all the care and kindness and understanding and love that you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.

Rule Eleven - Laugh at yourself and at life. Not in the spirit of derision or whining self-pity, but as a remedy, a miracle drug, that will ease your pain, cure your depression, and help you to put in perspective that seemingly terrible defeat and worry with laughter at your predicaments, thus freeing your mind to think clearly toward the solution that is certain to come. Never take yourself too seriously.

Rule Twelve - Never neglect the little things. Never skimp on that extra effort, that additional few minutes, that soft word of praise or thanks, that delivery of the very best that you can do. It does not matter what others think, it is of prime importance, however, what you think about you. You can never do your best, which should always be your trademark, if you are cutting corners and shirking responsibilities. You are special. Act it. Never neglect the little things.

Rule Thirteen - Welcome every morning with a smile. Look on the new day as another special gift from your Creator, another golden opportunity to complete what you were unable to finish yesterday. Be a self-starter. Let your first hour set the theme of success and positive action that is certain to echo through your entire day. Today will never happen again. Don't waste it with a false start or no start at all. You were not born to fail.

Rule Fourteen - You will achieve grand dream, a day at a time, so set goals for each day - not long and difficult projects, but chores that will take you, step by step, toward your rainbow. Write them down, if you must, but limit your list so that you won't have to drag today's undone matters into tomorrow. Remember that you cannot build your pyramid in twenty-four hours. Be patient. Never allow your day to become so cluttered that you neglect your most important goal -- to do the best you can, enjoy this day, and rest satisfied with what you have accomplished.

Rule Fifteen - Never allow anyone to rain on your parade and thus cast a pall of gloom and defeat on the entire day. Remember that no talent, no self-denial, no brains, no character, are required to set up in the fault-finding business. Nothing external can have any power over you unless you permit it. Your time is too precious to be sacrificed in wasted days combating the menial forces of hate, jealously, and envy. Guard your fragile life carefully. Only God can shape a flower, but any foolish child can pull it to pieces.

Rule Sixteen - Search for the seed of good in every adversity. Master that principle and you will own a precious shield that will guard you well through all the darkest valley you must traverse. Stars may be seen from the bottom of a deep well, when they cannot be discerned from the mountaintop. So will you learn things in adversity that you would never have discovered without trouble. There is always a seed of good. Find it and prosper.

Rule Seventeen - Realize that true happiness lies within you. Waste no time and effort searching for peace and contentment and joy in the world outside. Remember that there is no happiness in having or in getting, but only in giving. Reach out. Share. Smile. Hug. Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting a few drops on yourself.

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The Best Gift Parents Can Give

By Bob Burg

Somewhere before I've heard the saying, "The best gift parents can ever give to their children is to love each other." I've had the pleasure of witnessing the truth of this statement for over 40 years.

From as far back as I can remember my Mom and Dad were a team. A great partnership. They were more than just a partnership. It was as if they were one person. They could drive us kids crazy sometimes, because they were always together "against us." (Okay, so it just seemed like that).

They were really just together in their love "for us", making sure their brood understood the difference between right and wrong and the foundational principles of honesty, trustworthiness, and respect. Sure, they argued (although, not that much), but there was never any doubt in our minds that any disagreements would be worked through and resolved. Most of my friends, unfortunately, didn't feel that same sense of security when their folks argued.

Mom and Dad began their married life poor, but they worked hard and, over the years, built a very successful business. They each had their strengths and weaknesses, but the way they worked together, you never saw the weaknesses, just the strengths. Dad was the outgoing, more public person with whom people met and right away fell in love. Everyone knew Dad!

Then, when they got to meet Mom, they felt the exact same way about her as well. Mom, although not at all shy, was more comfortable being the person behind the scenes. More detail oriented, she ran the books and, according to Dad, was the one who "really made the business work."

I remember one night at dinner asking Dad how much money he made. (Doesn't every teenager want to know!) Dad simply replied, "I don't know, Mama handles all that." I looked at Mom and asked, "Is that true? Dad really doesn't know how much money he makes?"

She replied, "Yes, he never has known, and he never asks." All three of us kids looked at Dad for an explanation. His approach was a simple one. "If we want to buy something and Mama says we can afford it, we can afford it."

For my mom and dad, marriage was never a 50/50 arrangement. It was 100/100 - each totally devoted to the happiness of the other. And, because of that, they each received even more joy than they gave. Dad once told me that "true love is when you actually care more about the other person - you love that person more - than you do yourself."

One of my greatest lessons from Mom was the time I told her, as a boy in my mid-teens, that even after I got married one day, she'd always be my favorite girl. Immediately - in a kind but definitely serious manner - she said, "No I won't be. When you get married your wife will be the most important person in your life, and that includes Daddy and me."

The biggest lesson about love and marriage that my mom and dad taught us kids was on how to talk "about" your spouse. Have you ever heard husbands and wives, when speaking to others, make unkind remarks about their spouses? It's one of those things people just seem to do. Sure, they're "only kidding," or maybe they are not. But words matter. And words teach, whether positively and negatively.

You would never hear such a thing from my mom and dad. Dad always speaks of Mom in the most complimentary, glowing terms. As does she of him. This lesson made such an impression on me, I still remember when I was age twelve and we were getting carpet installed in our home.

The crew boss was one of those stereotypical beer guzzling, hard-living guys, who would have probably belonged to Ralph Kramden's Raccoon Lodge from the old Honeymooner's TV show. For lunch, my folks bought pizza for the crew. Dad went to talk with the boss about the job. I was around the corner listening.

The boss said, "This is an expensive job. Women will really spend your money, won't they?" Dad responded, "Well, I'll tell you, when they were right there with you before you had any money, it's a pleasure to do anything for them you possibly can." This wasn't the answer the carpet installer expected to hear.

He was looking for negative banter about wives which, to him, was natural. He tried again: "But, gee, they'll really play off that and spend all they can, won't they?" Dad replied, as I knew he would, "Hey, when they're the reason you're successful, you want them to do the things they enjoy. There's no greater pleasure." Strike two.

The crew boss tried one more time, "And they'll take that as far as they can, huh?" Dad responded, "She's the best thing that ever happened to me. I'd do anything to make her happy."

I was trying not to laugh. I knew he wanted Dad to give in just a little bit and say, "Yeah, I guess that's true." But it wouldn't happen, not in a million years! Finally, the installer gave up and went back to work, probably shaking his head in bewilderment.

Witnessing my dad in that moment taught me more about loving and respecting your wife than anything he could ever have told me about the subject. Mom and Dad are now retired and enjoying their life together, just hanging out, reading, and visiting their children and grandchildren. They recently celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary.

They still hold hands, and they are more in love than ever. Throughout the years, whenever Mom would remind me that I should be looking to get married, I'd say, "Ma, I have plenty of time." She'd jokingly reply that I don't have "that" much time. My Dad would then look at me in that wisdom-filled, city streets bred way of his and say, "Hey, you take all the time you need. If you marry someone just half the woman your mother is, you'll have a great life."

I should only be so lucky.

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Hope

By William M. Buchholz, M.D.

As I ate breakfast one morning, I overheard two oncologists conversing.

One complained bitterly, "You know, Bob, I just don't understand it. We used the same drugs, the same dosage, the same schedule and the same entry criteria. Yet I got a 22 percent response rate and you got a 74 percent. That's unheard of for metastatic cancer. How do you do it?"

His colleague replied, "We're both using Etoposide, Platinum, Oncovin and Hydroxyurea. You call yours EPOH. I tell my patients I'm giving them HOPE. As dismal as the statistics are, I emphasize that we have a chance."

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People Who Make A Difference

The following is the philosophy of Charles Schulz, the creator of the "Peanuts" comic strip. You don't have to actually answer the questions. Just read it straight through, and you'll get the point.

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.

3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America.

4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.

5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winner for best actor and actress.

6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.

How did you do?

The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.

2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.

3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.

4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.

5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

Easier?

The lesson: The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.

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Do Some Small Things Today

By Michael Angier

In a recent airing of "Unsolved Mysteries" there was a story of a young boy who was the victim of the holocaust. He'd been placed in a work camp for several years and somehow had managed to survive the horror of his imprisonment.

The story was of a boy-now in his sixties-and his quest to find an American GI who had imparted a kindness to him. The soldier had given the boy some food.

It might seem insignificant, but to this child, who had seen nothing but cruelty and inhumanity for as long as he could remember, it was a gesture that marked a turning point in his life.

When he was liberated by the American forces, he was dying. He needed food. As he was hobbling along the road, a young GI jumped down from his tank and offered him some of his rations.

Unknown to the soldier, the boy had lost hope. He was afraid. He didn't beg for food because he couldn't even conceive the idea that someone would give him some.

With this one act of generosity, a kind and magnanimous American had rekindled a belief that there really was some good in the world.

And the boy never forgot it.

The boy later went to America, raised a family, became successful and worked hard to repay the kindness he had received with kindnesses of his own.

Now, he wanted to find the man who had, in his words, "Saved my life."

I hope he found him. But I'd like to believe that there were so many similar acts of generosity that it would be almost impossible to know for sure who the soldier was.

You see we never know when something we say or do will have a profound influence on another's life.

It's common to think we can't make a difference. And it's sad that most people don't ever recognize what an important role they play-or could play. Unlike George Bailey in "It's a Wonderful Life," most of us never get to see how things would be if we weren't here doing what we do.

When I speak to groups, I'm aware of the challenges my listeners may be facing. You never know what someone is going through. It might be a divorce. They may have just learned a loved one is dying. They may be afraid of losing their job. Perhaps they don't even HAVE a job.

I must be mindful that a thoughtless comment or playful tease could in fact be hurtful. We all have a choice: to create more light or to generate more heat in the world. As Confucius put it over 2500 years ago, "It is better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness."

As the story above so nicely illustrates, small gestures can often generate huge blessings. If we're constantly looking for and doing kind and thoughtful acts, we will no doubt bring more joy into the world around us as well as into our own world.

I call it the Law of Reciprocity: The more you do to enhance the lives of others, the more you enhance your own being. It's one of life's better deals.

Robert Brault may have said it best when he wrote, "Enjoy the little things for one day you may look back and realize that they were the big things."

What kindness can you show today? What generous act can you perform? What kind words will you offer someone? What good deed are you willing to invest in the world?

Do some small things today, but do them in great ways and you will assuredly create great blessings.

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