Not sure if it is true or not..
DON'T TAKE PANADOL AND PANADOL
> ACTI FAST AND PANADOL SOLUBLE
> especially if you have gastric problems
> FYI... One real story from a friend....
>
> My husband was working in a hospital as an IT engineer, as the
> hospital is planning to set up a database of its patient.
> And he knows some of the doctors quite well.
>
> The doctors used to tell him that whenever they have a headache, they
> are not willing to take PANADOL (PARACETMOL). In fact,they will turn
> to Chinese Herbal Medicine or find other alternatives.
>
> This is because Panadol is toxic to the body, and it harms the liver.
> According to the doctor, Panadol will reside in the body for at least
> 5 years. And according to the doctor, there used to be an incident
> where an air stewardess consumes a lot of panadol during her menstrual
> as she needs to stand all the time. She's now in her early 30's, and
> she needs to wash her kidney (DIALYSIS) every month.
>
> As said by the doctor that whenever we have a headache, that's because
> it is due to the electron/Ion imbalance in the brain. As an
> alternative solution to cope with this matter, they suggested that we
> buy 1 or 2 cans of isotonic drink ( eg.100PLUS), and mix it with
> drinking water according to a ratio of 1:1 or 1:2 (simply, it means
> one cup 100plus, one cup water.or 2 cups water).
>
> Me and my husband have tried this on several occasions, and it seems
> to work well.
>
> Another method will be to submerge your feet in a basin of warm water
> so that it bring the blood pressure down from your throbbing head.
>
> As Panadol is a pain killer, the more Panadol you take, the lesser
> would be your threshold for pain (your endurance level for pain).
>
> We all will fall ill as we aged, for woman, we would need to go
> through childbirth. Imagine that we had spent our entire life popping
> quite a substantial amount of Panadol (Pain Killer) when you need to
> have a surgery or operation, you will need a much more amount of
> general anesthetic to numb your surgical pain than the average person
> who seldom or rarely takes Panadol .. If you have a very high intake
> of Panadol throughout your life (Migraine, Menstrual cramps) it is
> very likely that normal general anesthetic will have no effects on you
> as your body is pumped full with panadol and your body is so used to pain killer >that you would need a much stronger pain killer, Morphine??
> Value your life, THINK b4 you easily pop that familiar pill into your
> mouth again. Please send this to people you care about.
Showing posts with label Stories from emails. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories from emails. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Good speech...
Got this from email.
Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah’s speech at the United Kingdom and Eire Council for Malaysian Students (UKEC)’s Fourth Malaysian Students Leadership Seminar in Kuala Lumpur on 31st July, 2010.
Now let’s have a discussion — Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah
“Thank you for inviting me to speak with you. I am truly honoured. I have played some small role in the life of this nation, but having been on the wrong side of one or two political fights with the powers that be, I am not as close to the young people of this country as I would hope to be. History, and the 8 o’clock news, is written by the victors. In recent years the government’s monopoly of the media has been destroyed by the technology revolution.
You could say I was also a member of the UKEC. Well I was, except that belonged to the predecessor of the UKEC by more than fifty years, The Malayan Students Union of the UK and Eire. I led this organisation in 1958/59. I was then a student of Queen’s University at Belfast, in a rather cooler climate than Kota Bharu’s.
Your invitation to participate in the MSLS was prefaced by an essay which calls for an intellectually informed activism. I congratulate you on this. The Youth of today, you note, “will chart the future of Malaysia.” You say you “no longer want to be ignored and leave the future of our Malaysia at the hands of the current generation.” You “want to grab the bull by the horns… and have a say in where we go as a society and as a nation. “I feel the same, actually. A lot of Malaysians feel the same. They are tired of being ignored and talked down to by swaggering mediocrities.
You are right. The present generation in power has let Malaysia down.
But also you cite two things as testimony of the importance of youth and of student activism to this country, the election results of 2008 and “the Prime Minister’s acknowledgement of the role of youth in the development of the country.”
So perhaps you are a little way yet from thinking for yourselves. The first step in “grabbing the bull by the horns” is not to require the endorsement of the Prime Minister, or any Minister, for your activism.
Politicians are not your parents. They are your servants. You don’t need a government slogan coined by a foreign PR agency to wrap your project in. You just go ahead and do it.
When I was a student our newly formed country was already a leader in the postcolonial world. We were sought out as a leader in the Afro-Asian Conference which inaugurated the Non-Aligned Movement and the G-77. The Afro-Asian movement was led by such luminaries as Zhou En-lai, Nehru, Kwame Nkrumah, Soekarno. Malaysians were seen as moderate leaders capable of mediating between these more radical leaders and the West. We were known for our moderation, good sense and reliability.
We were a leader in the Islamic world as ourselves and as we were, without our leaders having to put up false displays of piety. His memory has been scrubbed out quite systematically from our national consciousness, so you might not know this or much else about him, but it was Tengku Abdul Rahman established our leadership in the Islamic world by coming up with the idea of the OIC and making it happen.
Under his leadership Malaysia led the way in taking up the anti-apartheid cause in the Commonwealth and in the United Nations, resulting in South Africa’s expulsion from these bodies.
Here was a man at ease with himself, made it a policy goal that Malaysia be “a happy country”. He loved sport and encouraged sporting achievement among Malaysians. He was owner of many a fine race horse.
He called a press conference and had a beer with his stewards when his horse won at the Melbourne Cup. He had nothing to hide because his great integrity in service was clear to all. Now we have religious and moral hypocrites who cheat, lie and steal in office but never have a drink, who propagate an ideologically shackled education system for all Malaysians while they send their own kids to elite academies in the West.
Speaking of football. You’re too young to have experienced the Merdeka Cup, which Tunku started. We had a respectable side in the sixties and seventies. Teams from across Asia would come to play in Kuala Lumpur. Teams such as South Korea and Japan, whom we defeated routinely. We were one of the better sides in Asia. We won the Bronze medal at the Asian games in 1974 and qualified for the Moscow Olympics in 1980. Today our FIFA ranking is 157 out of 203 countries. That puts us in the lowest quartile, below Maldives (149), the smallest country in Asia, with just 400,000 people living about 1.5 metres above sea level who have to worry that their country may soon be swallowed up by climate change. Here in ASEAN we are behind Indonesia, Thailand, Singapore, whom we used to dominate, and our one spot above basketball-playing Philippines.
The captain of our illustrious 1970’s side was Soh Chin Aun. Arumugam, Isa Bakar, Santokh Singh, James Wong and Mokhtar Dahari were heroes whose names rolled off the tongues of our schoolchildren as they copied them on the school field. It wasn’t about being the best in the world, but about being passionate and united and devoted to the game.
It was the same in Badminton, except at one time we were the best in the world. I remember Wong Peng Soon, the first Asian to win the All-England Championship, and then just dominated it throughout the 1950. Back home every kid who played badminton in every little kampong wanted to call himself Wong Peng Soon. There was no tinge of anybody identifying themselves exclusively as Chinese, Malays, Indian. Peng Soon was a Malaysian hero. Just like each of our football heroes. Now we do not have an iota of that feeling. Where has it all gone?
I don’t think it’s mere nostalgia that that makes us think there was a time when the sun shone more brightly upon Malaysia. I bring up sport because it has been a mirror of our more general performance as nation. When we were at ease with who we were and didn’t need slogans to do our best together, we did well. When race and money entered our game, we declined. The same applies to our political and economic life.
Soon after independence we were already a highly successful developing country. We had begun the infrastructure building and diversification of our economy that would be the foundation for further growth. We carried out an import-substitution programme that stimulated local productive capacity. From there we started an infrastructure buildup which enabled a diversification of the economy leading to rapid industrialisation. We carried out effective programmes to raise rural income and help with landless with programmes such as FELDA. Our achievements in achieving growth with equity were recognised around the world. We were ahead of Our peer group in economic development were South Korea, Hong Kong, Singapore and Taiwan, and we led the pack. I remember we used to send technical consultants to advise the South Koreans.
By the lates nineties, however, we had fallen far behind this group and were competing with Thailand and Indonesia. Today, according to the latest World Investment Report, FDI into Malaysia is at about a twenty year low. We are entering the peer group of Cambodia, Myanmar and the Philippines as an investment destination. Thailand, despite a month long siege of the capital, attracted more FDI than we did last year. Indonesia and Vietnam far outperform us, not as a statistical blip but consistently. Soon we shall have difficulty keeping up with The Philippines. This, I believe, is called relegation. If we take into account FDI outflow, the picture is even more interesting. Last year we received US$1.38 billion (RM4.40 billion) in investments but US$ 8.04 billion flowed out. We are the only country in Southeast Asia which has suffered nett FDI outflow. I am not against outward investment. It can be a good thing for the country. But an imbalance on this scale indicates capital flight, not mere investment overseas.
Without a doubt, Malaysia is slipping. Billions have been looted from this country, and billions more are being siphoned out as our entire political structure crumbles. Yet we are gathered here in comfort, in a country that still seems to ‘work.’ Most of the time. This is due less to good management than to the extraordinary wealth of this country. You were born into a country of immense resources both natural and cultural and social. We have been wearing down this advantage with mismanagement and corruption. With lies, tall tales and theft. We have a political class unwilling or unable to address the central issue of the day because they have grown fat and comfortable with a system built on lies and theft. It is easy to fall into the lull caused by the combination of whatever wealth has not been plundered and removed and political class that lives in a bubble of sycophancy.
I urge you not to fall into that complacency. It is time to wake up. That waking up can begin here, right here, at this conference. Not tomorrow or the day after but today. So let me, as I have the honour of opening this conference, suggest the following:
Overcome the urge to have our hopes for the future endorsed by the Prime Minister. He will have retired, and I’ll be long gone when your future arrives. The shape of your future is being determined now.
Resist the temptation to say “in line with” when we do something. Your projects, believe it or not, don’t have to be in line with any government campaign for them to be meaningful. You don’t need to polish anyone’s apple. Just get on with what you plan to do.
Do not put a lid on certain issues as “sensitive” because someone said they are. Or it is against the Social Contract. Or it is “politicisation”. You don’t need to have your conversation delimited by the hyper-sensitive among us. Sensitivity is often a club people use to hit each other with. Reasoned discussion of contentious issues builds understanding and trust. Test this idea.
It’s not “uber-liberal” to ask for an end to having politics, economic policy, education policy and everything and the kitchen sink determined by race. It’s called growing up. Go look up “liberal” in a dictionary.
Please resist the temptation to say Salam 1 Malaysia, or Salam Vision 2020 or Salam Malaysia Boleh, or anything like that. Not even when you are reading the news. It’s embarrassing. I think it’s OK to say plain old salam the way the Holy Prophet did, wishing peace unto all humanity. You say you want to “promote intellectual discourse.” I take that to mean you want to have reasonable, thought-through and critical discussions, and slogans are the enemy of thought. Banish them.
Don’t let the politicians you have invited here talk down to you.
Don’t let them tell you how bright and “exuberant” you are, that you are the future of the nation, etc. If you close your eyes and flow with their flattery you have safely joined the caravan, a caravan taking the nation down a sink hole. If they tell you the future is in your hands kindly request that they hand that future over first. Ask them how come the youngest member of our cabinet is 45 and is full of discredited hacks? Our Merdeka cabinet had an average age below thirty. You’re not the first generation to be bright. Mine wasn’t too stupid. But you could be the first generation of students and young graduates in fifty years to push this nation through a major transformation. And it is a transformation we need desperately.
You will be told that much is expected of you, much has been given to you, and so forth. This is all true. Actually much has also been stolen from you. Over the last twenty five years, much of the immense wealth generated by our productive people and our vast resources has been looted. This was supposed to have been your patrimony. The uncomplicated sense of belonging fully, wholeheartedly, unreservedly, to this country, in all it diversity, that has been taken from you.
Our sense of ourselves as Malaysians, a free and united people, has been replaced by a tale of racial strife and resentment that continues to haunt us. The thing is, this tale is false.
The most precious thing you have been deprived of has been your history. Someone of my generation finds it hard to describe what must seem like a completely different country to you now. Malaysia was not born in strife but in unity. Our independence was achieved through a demonstration of unity by the people in supporting a multiracial government led by Tengku Abdul Rahman. That show of unity, demonstrated first through the municipal elections of 1952 and then through the Alliance’s landslide victory in the elections of 1955, showed that the people of Malaya were united in wanting their freedom.
We surprised the British, who thought we could not do this.
Today we are no longer as united as we were then. We are also less free. I don’t think this is a coincidence. It takes free people to have the psychological strength to overcome the confines of a racialised worldview. It takes free people to overcome those politicians bent on hanging on to power gained by racialising every feature of our life including our football teams.
Hence while you are at this conference, let me argue, that as an absolute minimum, we should call for the repeal of unjust and much abused Acts which are reversals of freedoms that we won at Merdeka.
I ask you in joining me in calling for the repeal of the ISA and the OSA. These draconian laws have been used, more often than not, as political tools rather than instruments of national security. They create a climate of fear. These days there is a trend among right wing nationalist groups to identify the ISA with the defence of Malay rights. This is a self-inflicted insult on Malay rights. As if our Constitutional protections needed draconian laws to enforce them. I wish they were as zealous in defending our right not to be robbed by a corrupt ruling elite. We don’t seem to be applying the law of the land there, let alone the ISA.
I ask you to join me in calling for the repeal of the Printing and Publications Act, and above all, the Universities and Colleges Act. I don’t see how you can pursue your student activism with such freedom and support in the UK and Eire while forgetting that your brethren at home are deprived of their basic rights of association and expression by the UCA. The UCA has done immense harm in dumbing down our universities.
We must have freedom as guaranteed under our Constitution. Freedom to assemble, associate, speak, write, move. This is basic. Even on matters of race and even on religious matters we should be able to speak freely, and we shall educate each other.
It is time to realise the dream of Dato’ Onn and the spirit of the Alliance, of Tunku Abdul Rahman. That dream was one of unity and a single Malaysian people. They went as far as they could with it in their time. Instead of taking on the torch we have reversed course. The next step for us as a country is to move beyond the infancy of race-based parties to a non-racial party system. Our race-based party system is the key political reason why we are a sick country, declining before our own eyes, with money fleeing and people telling their children not to come home after their studies.
So let us try to take 1 Malaysia seriously. Millions have been spent putting up billboards and adding the term to every conceivable thing. We even have cuti-cuti 1 Malaysia. Can’t take a normal holiday anymore.
This is all fine. Now let us see if it means anything. Let us see the Government of the day lead by example. 1 Malaysia is empty because it is propagated by a Government that promotes the racially-based party system that is the chief cause of our inability to grow up in our race relations. Our inability to grow up in our race relations is the chief reason why investors, and we ourselves, no longer have confidence in our economy. The reasons why we are behind Maldives in football, and behind the Philippines in FDI, are linked.
So let us take 1 Malaysia seriously, and convert Barisan Nasional into a party open to all citizens. Let it be a multiracial party open to direct membership. PR will be forced to do the same or be left behind the times. Then we shall have the vehicles for a two party, non-race-based system.
If Umno, MIC or MCA are afraid of losing supporters, let them get their members to join this new multiracial party. PR should do the same. Nobody need feel left out. Umno members can join en masse. The Hainanese Kopitiam Association can join whichever party they want, or both parties en masse if they like. We can maintain our cherished civil associations, however we choose to associate. But we drop all communalism when we compete for the ballot. When our candidates stand for Elections, let them ever after stand only as Malaysians, better or worse.
Now let’s have a discussion.”
Short Biography from Wikipedia
Tengku Razaleigh bin Hamzah (born 1937) is a major Malaysian political figure from the state Kelantan, and a former Finance Minister. He is an uncle of the current Raja Perempuan (queen) of Kelantan. Tengku is a Malay hereditary title usually translated as prince. He is fondly known as Ku Li, derived from the last syllables of Tengku Razaleigh: this is a common kind of contraction in the dialect of Kelantan. He was also the Malaysian Finance Minister during the 1980s and the founder of Malaysian oil company, Petronas.
Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah’s speech at the United Kingdom and Eire Council for Malaysian Students (UKEC)’s Fourth Malaysian Students Leadership Seminar in Kuala Lumpur on 31st July, 2010.
Now let’s have a discussion — Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah
“Thank you for inviting me to speak with you. I am truly honoured. I have played some small role in the life of this nation, but having been on the wrong side of one or two political fights with the powers that be, I am not as close to the young people of this country as I would hope to be. History, and the 8 o’clock news, is written by the victors. In recent years the government’s monopoly of the media has been destroyed by the technology revolution.
You could say I was also a member of the UKEC. Well I was, except that belonged to the predecessor of the UKEC by more than fifty years, The Malayan Students Union of the UK and Eire. I led this organisation in 1958/59. I was then a student of Queen’s University at Belfast, in a rather cooler climate than Kota Bharu’s.
Your invitation to participate in the MSLS was prefaced by an essay which calls for an intellectually informed activism. I congratulate you on this. The Youth of today, you note, “will chart the future of Malaysia.” You say you “no longer want to be ignored and leave the future of our Malaysia at the hands of the current generation.” You “want to grab the bull by the horns… and have a say in where we go as a society and as a nation. “I feel the same, actually. A lot of Malaysians feel the same. They are tired of being ignored and talked down to by swaggering mediocrities.
You are right. The present generation in power has let Malaysia down.
But also you cite two things as testimony of the importance of youth and of student activism to this country, the election results of 2008 and “the Prime Minister’s acknowledgement of the role of youth in the development of the country.”
So perhaps you are a little way yet from thinking for yourselves. The first step in “grabbing the bull by the horns” is not to require the endorsement of the Prime Minister, or any Minister, for your activism.
Politicians are not your parents. They are your servants. You don’t need a government slogan coined by a foreign PR agency to wrap your project in. You just go ahead and do it.
When I was a student our newly formed country was already a leader in the postcolonial world. We were sought out as a leader in the Afro-Asian Conference which inaugurated the Non-Aligned Movement and the G-77. The Afro-Asian movement was led by such luminaries as Zhou En-lai, Nehru, Kwame Nkrumah, Soekarno. Malaysians were seen as moderate leaders capable of mediating between these more radical leaders and the West. We were known for our moderation, good sense and reliability.
We were a leader in the Islamic world as ourselves and as we were, without our leaders having to put up false displays of piety. His memory has been scrubbed out quite systematically from our national consciousness, so you might not know this or much else about him, but it was Tengku Abdul Rahman established our leadership in the Islamic world by coming up with the idea of the OIC and making it happen.
Under his leadership Malaysia led the way in taking up the anti-apartheid cause in the Commonwealth and in the United Nations, resulting in South Africa’s expulsion from these bodies.
Here was a man at ease with himself, made it a policy goal that Malaysia be “a happy country”. He loved sport and encouraged sporting achievement among Malaysians. He was owner of many a fine race horse.
He called a press conference and had a beer with his stewards when his horse won at the Melbourne Cup. He had nothing to hide because his great integrity in service was clear to all. Now we have religious and moral hypocrites who cheat, lie and steal in office but never have a drink, who propagate an ideologically shackled education system for all Malaysians while they send their own kids to elite academies in the West.
Speaking of football. You’re too young to have experienced the Merdeka Cup, which Tunku started. We had a respectable side in the sixties and seventies. Teams from across Asia would come to play in Kuala Lumpur. Teams such as South Korea and Japan, whom we defeated routinely. We were one of the better sides in Asia. We won the Bronze medal at the Asian games in 1974 and qualified for the Moscow Olympics in 1980. Today our FIFA ranking is 157 out of 203 countries. That puts us in the lowest quartile, below Maldives (149), the smallest country in Asia, with just 400,000 people living about 1.5 metres above sea level who have to worry that their country may soon be swallowed up by climate change. Here in ASEAN we are behind Indonesia, Thailand, Singapore, whom we used to dominate, and our one spot above basketball-playing Philippines.
The captain of our illustrious 1970’s side was Soh Chin Aun. Arumugam, Isa Bakar, Santokh Singh, James Wong and Mokhtar Dahari were heroes whose names rolled off the tongues of our schoolchildren as they copied them on the school field. It wasn’t about being the best in the world, but about being passionate and united and devoted to the game.
It was the same in Badminton, except at one time we were the best in the world. I remember Wong Peng Soon, the first Asian to win the All-England Championship, and then just dominated it throughout the 1950. Back home every kid who played badminton in every little kampong wanted to call himself Wong Peng Soon. There was no tinge of anybody identifying themselves exclusively as Chinese, Malays, Indian. Peng Soon was a Malaysian hero. Just like each of our football heroes. Now we do not have an iota of that feeling. Where has it all gone?
I don’t think it’s mere nostalgia that that makes us think there was a time when the sun shone more brightly upon Malaysia. I bring up sport because it has been a mirror of our more general performance as nation. When we were at ease with who we were and didn’t need slogans to do our best together, we did well. When race and money entered our game, we declined. The same applies to our political and economic life.
Soon after independence we were already a highly successful developing country. We had begun the infrastructure building and diversification of our economy that would be the foundation for further growth. We carried out an import-substitution programme that stimulated local productive capacity. From there we started an infrastructure buildup which enabled a diversification of the economy leading to rapid industrialisation. We carried out effective programmes to raise rural income and help with landless with programmes such as FELDA. Our achievements in achieving growth with equity were recognised around the world. We were ahead of Our peer group in economic development were South Korea, Hong Kong, Singapore and Taiwan, and we led the pack. I remember we used to send technical consultants to advise the South Koreans.
By the lates nineties, however, we had fallen far behind this group and were competing with Thailand and Indonesia. Today, according to the latest World Investment Report, FDI into Malaysia is at about a twenty year low. We are entering the peer group of Cambodia, Myanmar and the Philippines as an investment destination. Thailand, despite a month long siege of the capital, attracted more FDI than we did last year. Indonesia and Vietnam far outperform us, not as a statistical blip but consistently. Soon we shall have difficulty keeping up with The Philippines. This, I believe, is called relegation. If we take into account FDI outflow, the picture is even more interesting. Last year we received US$1.38 billion (RM4.40 billion) in investments but US$ 8.04 billion flowed out. We are the only country in Southeast Asia which has suffered nett FDI outflow. I am not against outward investment. It can be a good thing for the country. But an imbalance on this scale indicates capital flight, not mere investment overseas.
Without a doubt, Malaysia is slipping. Billions have been looted from this country, and billions more are being siphoned out as our entire political structure crumbles. Yet we are gathered here in comfort, in a country that still seems to ‘work.’ Most of the time. This is due less to good management than to the extraordinary wealth of this country. You were born into a country of immense resources both natural and cultural and social. We have been wearing down this advantage with mismanagement and corruption. With lies, tall tales and theft. We have a political class unwilling or unable to address the central issue of the day because they have grown fat and comfortable with a system built on lies and theft. It is easy to fall into the lull caused by the combination of whatever wealth has not been plundered and removed and political class that lives in a bubble of sycophancy.
I urge you not to fall into that complacency. It is time to wake up. That waking up can begin here, right here, at this conference. Not tomorrow or the day after but today. So let me, as I have the honour of opening this conference, suggest the following:
Overcome the urge to have our hopes for the future endorsed by the Prime Minister. He will have retired, and I’ll be long gone when your future arrives. The shape of your future is being determined now.
Resist the temptation to say “in line with” when we do something. Your projects, believe it or not, don’t have to be in line with any government campaign for them to be meaningful. You don’t need to polish anyone’s apple. Just get on with what you plan to do.
Do not put a lid on certain issues as “sensitive” because someone said they are. Or it is against the Social Contract. Or it is “politicisation”. You don’t need to have your conversation delimited by the hyper-sensitive among us. Sensitivity is often a club people use to hit each other with. Reasoned discussion of contentious issues builds understanding and trust. Test this idea.
It’s not “uber-liberal” to ask for an end to having politics, economic policy, education policy and everything and the kitchen sink determined by race. It’s called growing up. Go look up “liberal” in a dictionary.
Please resist the temptation to say Salam 1 Malaysia, or Salam Vision 2020 or Salam Malaysia Boleh, or anything like that. Not even when you are reading the news. It’s embarrassing. I think it’s OK to say plain old salam the way the Holy Prophet did, wishing peace unto all humanity. You say you want to “promote intellectual discourse.” I take that to mean you want to have reasonable, thought-through and critical discussions, and slogans are the enemy of thought. Banish them.
Don’t let the politicians you have invited here talk down to you.
Don’t let them tell you how bright and “exuberant” you are, that you are the future of the nation, etc. If you close your eyes and flow with their flattery you have safely joined the caravan, a caravan taking the nation down a sink hole. If they tell you the future is in your hands kindly request that they hand that future over first. Ask them how come the youngest member of our cabinet is 45 and is full of discredited hacks? Our Merdeka cabinet had an average age below thirty. You’re not the first generation to be bright. Mine wasn’t too stupid. But you could be the first generation of students and young graduates in fifty years to push this nation through a major transformation. And it is a transformation we need desperately.
You will be told that much is expected of you, much has been given to you, and so forth. This is all true. Actually much has also been stolen from you. Over the last twenty five years, much of the immense wealth generated by our productive people and our vast resources has been looted. This was supposed to have been your patrimony. The uncomplicated sense of belonging fully, wholeheartedly, unreservedly, to this country, in all it diversity, that has been taken from you.
Our sense of ourselves as Malaysians, a free and united people, has been replaced by a tale of racial strife and resentment that continues to haunt us. The thing is, this tale is false.
The most precious thing you have been deprived of has been your history. Someone of my generation finds it hard to describe what must seem like a completely different country to you now. Malaysia was not born in strife but in unity. Our independence was achieved through a demonstration of unity by the people in supporting a multiracial government led by Tengku Abdul Rahman. That show of unity, demonstrated first through the municipal elections of 1952 and then through the Alliance’s landslide victory in the elections of 1955, showed that the people of Malaya were united in wanting their freedom.
We surprised the British, who thought we could not do this.
Today we are no longer as united as we were then. We are also less free. I don’t think this is a coincidence. It takes free people to have the psychological strength to overcome the confines of a racialised worldview. It takes free people to overcome those politicians bent on hanging on to power gained by racialising every feature of our life including our football teams.
Hence while you are at this conference, let me argue, that as an absolute minimum, we should call for the repeal of unjust and much abused Acts which are reversals of freedoms that we won at Merdeka.
I ask you in joining me in calling for the repeal of the ISA and the OSA. These draconian laws have been used, more often than not, as political tools rather than instruments of national security. They create a climate of fear. These days there is a trend among right wing nationalist groups to identify the ISA with the defence of Malay rights. This is a self-inflicted insult on Malay rights. As if our Constitutional protections needed draconian laws to enforce them. I wish they were as zealous in defending our right not to be robbed by a corrupt ruling elite. We don’t seem to be applying the law of the land there, let alone the ISA.
I ask you to join me in calling for the repeal of the Printing and Publications Act, and above all, the Universities and Colleges Act. I don’t see how you can pursue your student activism with such freedom and support in the UK and Eire while forgetting that your brethren at home are deprived of their basic rights of association and expression by the UCA. The UCA has done immense harm in dumbing down our universities.
We must have freedom as guaranteed under our Constitution. Freedom to assemble, associate, speak, write, move. This is basic. Even on matters of race and even on religious matters we should be able to speak freely, and we shall educate each other.
It is time to realise the dream of Dato’ Onn and the spirit of the Alliance, of Tunku Abdul Rahman. That dream was one of unity and a single Malaysian people. They went as far as they could with it in their time. Instead of taking on the torch we have reversed course. The next step for us as a country is to move beyond the infancy of race-based parties to a non-racial party system. Our race-based party system is the key political reason why we are a sick country, declining before our own eyes, with money fleeing and people telling their children not to come home after their studies.
So let us try to take 1 Malaysia seriously. Millions have been spent putting up billboards and adding the term to every conceivable thing. We even have cuti-cuti 1 Malaysia. Can’t take a normal holiday anymore.
This is all fine. Now let us see if it means anything. Let us see the Government of the day lead by example. 1 Malaysia is empty because it is propagated by a Government that promotes the racially-based party system that is the chief cause of our inability to grow up in our race relations. Our inability to grow up in our race relations is the chief reason why investors, and we ourselves, no longer have confidence in our economy. The reasons why we are behind Maldives in football, and behind the Philippines in FDI, are linked.
So let us take 1 Malaysia seriously, and convert Barisan Nasional into a party open to all citizens. Let it be a multiracial party open to direct membership. PR will be forced to do the same or be left behind the times. Then we shall have the vehicles for a two party, non-race-based system.
If Umno, MIC or MCA are afraid of losing supporters, let them get their members to join this new multiracial party. PR should do the same. Nobody need feel left out. Umno members can join en masse. The Hainanese Kopitiam Association can join whichever party they want, or both parties en masse if they like. We can maintain our cherished civil associations, however we choose to associate. But we drop all communalism when we compete for the ballot. When our candidates stand for Elections, let them ever after stand only as Malaysians, better or worse.
Now let’s have a discussion.”
Short Biography from Wikipedia
Tengku Razaleigh bin Hamzah (born 1937) is a major Malaysian political figure from the state Kelantan, and a former Finance Minister. He is an uncle of the current Raja Perempuan (queen) of Kelantan. Tengku is a Malay hereditary title usually translated as prince. He is fondly known as Ku Li, derived from the last syllables of Tengku Razaleigh: this is a common kind of contraction in the dialect of Kelantan. He was also the Malaysian Finance Minister during the 1980s and the founder of Malaysian oil company, Petronas.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Nice one....
~Pride is concerned with who is right, humility is concerned with what is right.~
~And in the end, its not the years in your life that counts. Its the life in your years.~
~Don't look down on anyone UNLESS you are helping them up~
A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee...
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, ' Tell me what you see.'
'Carrots, eggs, and coffee,' she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, 'What does it mean, mother?'
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
'Which are you?' she asked her daughter. 'When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.
When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of every thing; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.
Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
You might want to send this message to those people who mean something to you (I JUST DID); to those who have touched your life in one way or another; to those who make you smile when you really need it; to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down; to those whose friendships you appreciate; to those who are so meaningful in your life.
If you don't send it, you will just miss out on the opportunity to brighten someone's day with this message!
May we all be COFFEE!!!!!
~And in the end, its not the years in your life that counts. Its the life in your years.~
~Don't look down on anyone UNLESS you are helping them up~
A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee...
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, ' Tell me what you see.'
'Carrots, eggs, and coffee,' she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, 'What does it mean, mother?'
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
'Which are you?' she asked her daughter. 'When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.
When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of every thing; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.
Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
You might want to send this message to those people who mean something to you (I JUST DID); to those who have touched your life in one way or another; to those who make you smile when you really need it; to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down; to those whose friendships you appreciate; to those who are so meaningful in your life.
If you don't send it, you will just miss out on the opportunity to brighten someone's day with this message!
May we all be COFFEE!!!!!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Hotel Manager
Not sure if you all have read this..but this is truly a good story that i must share. Happy reading.
The Hotel Manager
One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia. Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get shelter for the night.
"Could you possibly give us a room here?" the husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town
"All of our rooms are taken," the clerk said. "But I can't send a nice couple like you out in the rain at one o'clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It's not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night."
When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. "Don't worry about me; I'll make out just fine," the clerk told them. So the couple agreed.
As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, "You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I'll build one for you."
The clerk looked at the couple and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh. As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn't easy.
Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round- trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.
The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.
"That," said the older man, "is the hotel I have just built for you to manage."
"You must be joking," the young man said.
"I can assure you that I am not," said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.
The old man's name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Boldt.
This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world's most glamorous hotels.
The Bible says that we are not to turn our backs on those who are in need -- for we might be entertaining angels.
The Hotel Manager
One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia. Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get shelter for the night.
"Could you possibly give us a room here?" the husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town
"All of our rooms are taken," the clerk said. "But I can't send a nice couple like you out in the rain at one o'clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It's not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night."
When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. "Don't worry about me; I'll make out just fine," the clerk told them. So the couple agreed.
As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, "You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I'll build one for you."
The clerk looked at the couple and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh. As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn't easy.
Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round- trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.
The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.
"That," said the older man, "is the hotel I have just built for you to manage."
"You must be joking," the young man said.
"I can assure you that I am not," said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.
The old man's name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Boldt.
This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world's most glamorous hotels.
The Bible says that we are not to turn our backs on those who are in need -- for we might be entertaining angels.
Friday, December 14, 2007
WHO I AM MAKES A DIFFERENCE
This story although it is from an email, the core subject of it really touch my heart. Hope you will like this story and pass it along your friends. One will never know whose lives we will touch.
A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniors in High School by
telling them the difference each of them had made. She called each student
to the front of the class, one at a time.
First, she told each of them how they had made a difference to her, and the
class. Then she presented each of them with a blue ribbon, imprinted with
gold letters, which read, "Who I Am Makes a Difference." Afterwards,
the teacher decided to do a class project, to see what kind of impact
recognition would have on a Community. She gave each of the students
three more blue ribbons, and instructed them to go out and spread this
acknowledgment ceremony.
Then they were to follow up on the results, see who honored whom, and report
to the class in about a week.
One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby Company,
and honored him for helping him with his career planning. He gave him a
blue ribbon, and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons
and said, "We're doing a class project on recognition, and we'd like for
you to go out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue ribbon, then give
them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge a third person, to keep
this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please report back to me and tell
me what happened."
Later that day, the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been
noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss down,
and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative genius. The
boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him if he would
accept the gift of the blue ribbon, and would he give him permission to put
it on him. His surprised boss said, "Well, sure." The junior executive took
the blue ribbon and placed it right on his boss's jacket, above his heart.
As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he said, "Would you take this extra
ribbon, and pass it on by honoring somebody else. The young boy who first
gave me the ribbons is doing a project in school, and we want to keep this
recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people."
That night, the boss came home to his 14-year-old son, and sat him down.
He said, "The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my
office, and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired me,
and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine! He thinks
I am a creative genius! Then he put a blue ribbon that says, "Who I Am Makes
a Difference", on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and
asked me to find somebody else to honor. As I was driving home tonight, I
started thinking about whom I would honor with this ribbon, and I thought
about you. I want to honor you. My days are hectic and when I come home, I do
not pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting
good enough grades in school, and for your bedroom being a mess. Somehow,
tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do
make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most important
person in my life. You're a great kid, and I love you!"
The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he could not stop crying. His
whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears,
"Dad, earlier tonight I sat in my room and wrote a letter to you and Mom,
explaining why I had took my life, and I asked you to forgive me. I was
going to commit suicide tonight after you were asleep. I just did not
think that you cared at all. The letter is upstairs. I don't think I need
it after all." His father walked upstairs and found a heartfelt letter
full of anguish and pain.
The boss went back to work a changed man. He was no longer a grouch, but
made sure to let all of his employees know that they made a difference.
The junior executive helped several other young people with career planning,
and never forgot to let them know that they made a difference in his
life...one being the boss' son. In addition, the young boy and his
classmates learned a valuable lesson, "Who you are DOES make a difference".
You are under no obligation to pass this on to anyone.... not to two people,
or to two hundred. As far as I am concerned, you can forget it and move on.
On the other hand, if you want, you could send it to all of the people who
mean something to you, or send it to the one, two, or three people who
mean the most. On the other hand, just smile and know that I think that
you are important, or you would not have received this in the first place.
Who you are does make a difference, and I wanted you to know that. Isn't
this a wonderful story? I'm passing the blue ribbon to you, for who YOU
are does make a difference, too. May GOD BLESS YOU. Have an awesome day,
and know that someone has thought about you today!
A prayer for today: Lord, Thank you for my friends and family who really
do make a difference to me. AMEN!
To all who read this, you have just received a blue ribbon and I thank GOD
for you! You make a BIG difference to me .
A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniors in High School by
telling them the difference each of them had made. She called each student
to the front of the class, one at a time.
First, she told each of them how they had made a difference to her, and the
class. Then she presented each of them with a blue ribbon, imprinted with
gold letters, which read, "Who I Am Makes a Difference." Afterwards,
the teacher decided to do a class project, to see what kind of impact
recognition would have on a Community. She gave each of the students
three more blue ribbons, and instructed them to go out and spread this
acknowledgment ceremony.
Then they were to follow up on the results, see who honored whom, and report
to the class in about a week.
One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby Company,
and honored him for helping him with his career planning. He gave him a
blue ribbon, and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons
and said, "We're doing a class project on recognition, and we'd like for
you to go out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue ribbon, then give
them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge a third person, to keep
this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please report back to me and tell
me what happened."
Later that day, the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been
noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss down,
and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative genius. The
boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him if he would
accept the gift of the blue ribbon, and would he give him permission to put
it on him. His surprised boss said, "Well, sure." The junior executive took
the blue ribbon and placed it right on his boss's jacket, above his heart.
As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he said, "Would you take this extra
ribbon, and pass it on by honoring somebody else. The young boy who first
gave me the ribbons is doing a project in school, and we want to keep this
recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people."
That night, the boss came home to his 14-year-old son, and sat him down.
He said, "The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my
office, and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired me,
and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine! He thinks
I am a creative genius! Then he put a blue ribbon that says, "Who I Am Makes
a Difference", on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and
asked me to find somebody else to honor. As I was driving home tonight, I
started thinking about whom I would honor with this ribbon, and I thought
about you. I want to honor you. My days are hectic and when I come home, I do
not pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting
good enough grades in school, and for your bedroom being a mess. Somehow,
tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do
make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most important
person in my life. You're a great kid, and I love you!"
The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he could not stop crying. His
whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears,
"Dad, earlier tonight I sat in my room and wrote a letter to you and Mom,
explaining why I had took my life, and I asked you to forgive me. I was
going to commit suicide tonight after you were asleep. I just did not
think that you cared at all. The letter is upstairs. I don't think I need
it after all." His father walked upstairs and found a heartfelt letter
full of anguish and pain.
The boss went back to work a changed man. He was no longer a grouch, but
made sure to let all of his employees know that they made a difference.
The junior executive helped several other young people with career planning,
and never forgot to let them know that they made a difference in his
life...one being the boss' son. In addition, the young boy and his
classmates learned a valuable lesson, "Who you are DOES make a difference".
You are under no obligation to pass this on to anyone.... not to two people,
or to two hundred. As far as I am concerned, you can forget it and move on.
On the other hand, if you want, you could send it to all of the people who
mean something to you, or send it to the one, two, or three people who
mean the most. On the other hand, just smile and know that I think that
you are important, or you would not have received this in the first place.
Who you are does make a difference, and I wanted you to know that. Isn't
this a wonderful story? I'm passing the blue ribbon to you, for who YOU
are does make a difference, too. May GOD BLESS YOU. Have an awesome day,
and know that someone has thought about you today!
A prayer for today: Lord, Thank you for my friends and family who really
do make a difference to me. AMEN!
To all who read this, you have just received a blue ribbon and I thank GOD
for you! You make a BIG difference to me .
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Positive Thinking..
Got this from Email...hope you all like it.
I AM THANKFUL FOR THE WIFE WHO SAYS IT'S HOT DOGS TONIGHT, BECAUSE SHE IS HOME WITH ME, AND NOT OUT WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
FOR THE TAXES I PAY BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM EMPLOYED ..
FOR THE MESS TO CLEAN AFTER A PARTY BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS.
FOR THE CLOTHES THAT FIT A LITTLE TOO SNUG BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE ENOUGH TO EAT.
FOR A LAWN THAT NEEDS MOWING, WINDOWS THAT NEED CLEANING, AND GUTTERS THAT NEED FIXING BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE A HOME .
FOR THE PILE OF LAUNDRY AND IRONING BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE CLOTHES TO WEAR
AND FINALLY, FOR TOO MUCH E-MAIL BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARE THINKING OF ME.
I AM THANKFUL FOR THE WIFE WHO SAYS IT'S HOT DOGS TONIGHT, BECAUSE SHE IS HOME WITH ME, AND NOT OUT WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
FOR THE HUSBAND WHO IS ON THE SOFA BEING A COUCH POTATO, BECAUSE HE IS HOME WITH ME AND NOT OUT AT THE BARS.
FOR THE TEENAGER WHO IS COMPLAINING ABOUT DOING DISHES BECAUSE IT MEANS SHE IS AT HOME, NOT ON THE STREETS.
FOR THE TAXES I PAY BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM EMPLOYED ..
FOR THE MESS TO CLEAN AFTER A PARTY BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS.
FOR THE CLOTHES THAT FIT A LITTLE TOO SNUG BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE ENOUGH TO EAT.
FOR A LAWN THAT NEEDS MOWING, WINDOWS THAT NEED CLEANING, AND GUTTERS THAT NEED FIXING BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE A HOME .
FOR THE PARKING SPOT I FIND AT THE FAR END OF THE PARKING LOT BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM CAPABLE OF WALKING AND I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH TRANSPORTATION.
FOR MY HUGE HEATING BILL BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM WARM.
FOR THE LADY BEHIND ME IN CHURCH WHO SINGS OFF KEY BECAUSE IT MEANS I CAN HEAR.
FOR THE PILE OF LAUNDRY AND IRONING BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE CLOTHES TO WEAR
FOR WEARINESS AND ACHING MUSCLES AT THE END OF THE DAY BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE BEEN CAPABLE OF WORKING HARD.
FOR THE ALARM THAT GOES OFF IN THE EARLY MORNING HOURS BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM ALIVE.
AND FINALLY, FOR TOO MUCH E-MAIL BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARE THINKING OF ME.Live well, Laugh often, & Love with all of your Heart.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Apples and Wine
Received this one from email.
Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don;t want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren;t as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.
Now men... men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.
Share this with all the good apples you know....:)
Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don;t want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren;t as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.
Now men... men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.
Share this with all the good apples you know....:)
De Beer...
Not sure if you have read this before. Just received it today.
Subject: de beer
Beer contains female hormones
Last month, National University of Lesotho scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer. Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption. The theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women.
To test the theory, 100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a 1 hour period. It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects:
1) Argued over nothing.
2) Refused to apologize when obviously wrong.
3) Gained weight.
4) Talked excessively without making sense.
5) Became overly emotional.
6) Couldn't drive.
7) Failed to think rationally.
8) Had to sit down while urinating.
No further testing was considered necessary.
Send this to the men you know to warn them about drinking too much beer!
And send it to your women friends to give them a good laugh! If you think they can handle it.
Subject: de beer
Beer contains female hormones
Last month, National University of Lesotho scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer. Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption. The theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women.
To test the theory, 100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a 1 hour period. It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects:
1) Argued over nothing.
2) Refused to apologize when obviously wrong.
3) Gained weight.
4) Talked excessively without making sense.
5) Became overly emotional.
6) Couldn't drive.
7) Failed to think rationally.
8) Had to sit down while urinating.
No further testing was considered necessary.
Send this to the men you know to warn them about drinking too much beer!
And send it to your women friends to give them a good laugh! If you think they can handle it.
Monday, November 19, 2007
The Law of the Garbage Truck
Dear All,
Something for us to ponder. God bless.
Go through the story below and think about yourself. How do you react?
This something we have to think about seriously.
Remember, don't let their 'Garbage' fall on us 'cos we are not the 'Dustbin' .
Beware of Garbage Trucks
by David J. Pollay
How often do you let other people's nonsense change your mood?
Do you let a bad driver, rude waiter, curt boss, or an insensitive
employee ruin your day? Unless you're the Terminator, for an instant you're
probably set back on your heels. However, the mark of a successful person is
how quickly he/she can get back her focus on what's important.
Sixteen years ago I learned this lesson. I learned it in the back of a
New York City taxi cab. Here's what happened.
I hopped in a taxi, and we took off for Grand Central Station.
We were driving in the right lane when, all of a sudden, a black car
jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver
slammed on his breaks, skidded, and missed the other car's back end by
just inches!
The driver of the other car, the guy who almost caused a big accident,
whipped his head around and he started yelling bad words at us.
My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was
friendly. So, I said, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined
your car and sent us to the hospital!'
And this is when my taxi driver told me what I now call, 'The Law of
the Garbage Truck.'
Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage,
full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their
garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it. And if you let them, they'll
dump it on you.
When someone wants to dump on you, don't take it personally.
You just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on.
You'll be happy you did.
So this was it: The 'Law of the Garbage Truck.'
I started thinking, how often do I let Garbage Trucks run right over me?
And how often do I take their garbage and spread it to other people:
at work, at home, on the streets?
It was that day I said, 'I'm not going to do it anymore.'
I began to see garbage trucks.
I see the load they're carrying. I see them coming to drop it off.
And like my Taxi Driver, I don't make it a personal thing; I just
smile, wave, wish them well, and I move on.
One of my favorite football players of all time, Walter Payton, did
this every day on the football field.
He would jump up as quickly as he hit the ground after being tackled.
He never dwelled on a hit. Payton was ready to make the next play his best.
1. Good leaders know they have to be ready for their next meeting.
2. Good parents know that they have to welcome their children home from
school with hugs and kisses.
3. Teachers and parents know that they have to be fully present, and at
their best for the people they care about.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let Garbage Trucks
take over their day.
What about you?
What would happen in your life, starting today, if you let more
garbage trucks pass you by?
You'll be happier Here's my bet. So......
1. Love the people who treat you right.
2. Forget about the ones who don't.
3. Believe that everything happens for a reason.
4. If you get a chance , TAKE IT!
5. If it changes your life , LET IT!
Nobody said it would be easy...
They just promised it would be worth it!
Something for us to ponder. God bless.
Go through the story below and think about yourself. How do you react?
This something we have to think about seriously.
Remember, don't let their 'Garbage' fall on us 'cos we are not the 'Dustbin' .
Beware of Garbage Trucks
by David J. Pollay
How often do you let other people's nonsense change your mood?
Do you let a bad driver, rude waiter, curt boss, or an insensitive
employee ruin your day? Unless you're the Terminator, for an instant you're
probably set back on your heels. However, the mark of a successful person is
how quickly he/she can get back her focus on what's important.
Sixteen years ago I learned this lesson. I learned it in the back of a
New York City taxi cab. Here's what happened.
I hopped in a taxi, and we took off for Grand Central Station.
We were driving in the right lane when, all of a sudden, a black car
jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver
slammed on his breaks, skidded, and missed the other car's back end by
just inches!
The driver of the other car, the guy who almost caused a big accident,
whipped his head around and he started yelling bad words at us.
My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was
friendly. So, I said, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined
your car and sent us to the hospital!'
And this is when my taxi driver told me what I now call, 'The Law of
the Garbage Truck.'
Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage,
full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their
garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it. And if you let them, they'll
dump it on you.
When someone wants to dump on you, don't take it personally.
You just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on.
You'll be happy you did.
So this was it: The 'Law of the Garbage Truck.'
I started thinking, how often do I let Garbage Trucks run right over me?
And how often do I take their garbage and spread it to other people:
at work, at home, on the streets?
It was that day I said, 'I'm not going to do it anymore.'
I began to see garbage trucks.
I see the load they're carrying. I see them coming to drop it off.
And like my Taxi Driver, I don't make it a personal thing; I just
smile, wave, wish them well, and I move on.
One of my favorite football players of all time, Walter Payton, did
this every day on the football field.
He would jump up as quickly as he hit the ground after being tackled.
He never dwelled on a hit. Payton was ready to make the next play his best.
1. Good leaders know they have to be ready for their next meeting.
2. Good parents know that they have to welcome their children home from
school with hugs and kisses.
3. Teachers and parents know that they have to be fully present, and at
their best for the people they care about.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let Garbage Trucks
take over their day.
What about you?
What would happen in your life, starting today, if you let more
garbage trucks pass you by?
You'll be happier Here's my bet. So......
1. Love the people who treat you right.
2. Forget about the ones who don't.
3. Believe that everything happens for a reason.
4. If you get a chance , TAKE IT!
5. If it changes your life , LET IT!
Nobody said it would be easy...
They just promised it would be worth it!
Friday, November 2, 2007
OOLONG TEA……
A good illustration about of life. Happy Reading.
A carrot, an egg, and a cup of Oolong tea…You will never look at a cup of Oolong the same way again.
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed Oolong tea. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.
Then she ladled the Oolong out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see." "Carrots, eggs, and Oolong tea," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the Oolong. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The Oolong tea was unique, however. After they were in the boiling water , they had changed the water color and taste.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a Oolong tea?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff?
Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the Oolong tea? The tea actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.
If you are like the tea, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?
How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a Oolong tea?
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.
Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
You might want to send this message to those people who mean something to you; to those who have touched your life in one way or another; to those who make you smile when you really need it; to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down; to those whose friendship you appreciate; to those who are so meaningful in your life.
If you don't send it, you will just miss out on the opportunity to
brighten someone's day with this message!
May we all be OOLONG TEA !!
A carrot, an egg, and a cup of Oolong tea…You will never look at a cup of Oolong the same way again.
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed Oolong tea. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.
Then she ladled the Oolong out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see." "Carrots, eggs, and Oolong tea," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the Oolong. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The Oolong tea was unique, however. After they were in the boiling water , they had changed the water color and taste.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a Oolong tea?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff?
Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the Oolong tea? The tea actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.
If you are like the tea, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?
How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a Oolong tea?
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.
Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
You might want to send this message to those people who mean something to you; to those who have touched your life in one way or another; to those who make you smile when you really need it; to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down; to those whose friendship you appreciate; to those who are so meaningful in your life.
If you don't send it, you will just miss out on the opportunity to
brighten someone's day with this message!
May we all be OOLONG TEA !!
Friday, October 26, 2007
I LOVE this story.
Story from email. Happy reading.
A lovely story...even if you dont get the bits in tagalog....the story still comes through fine..so do spare a moment to read it.
Somewhere in Milaor, Camarines Sur, there lived a fourth grader boy who
would follow this route to school everyday: He has to cross the rugged
plains and cross the dangerous highway where vehicles are recklessly
driving to and from.
Once past this highway, the boy would take a short cut, passing by the
Church every morning just to say Hi to God, and faithfully say
his, "Magandang umaga po" in Bicol dialect. He was faithfully being
watched by a Priest who was happy to find innocence so uplifting in the
morning,
"Kamusta, Andoy? Papasok ka na?"
"Opo padre ... "he would flash his innocent grin, the priest would be
touched. He was so concerned that one day he talked to Andoy.
"From school...", he advised "Do not cross the highway, you can
pass through the Church and I can accompany you to the other side of the
road...that way I can see that you are home safe...."
"Thank you father ... "
"Why don't you go home ... why do you stay in
this church right after school?"
"I just want to say ' Hi ' to my friend, God," and the priest
would leave the boy to spend time beside the altar,
talking to himself, but the priest was hiding behind the altar to listen
to what this boy has to say to his heavenly FATHER.
"You know my math exam was pretty bad today, but I did not cheat although
my seatmate is bullying me for notes... I ate one cracker and drank my
water, Itay had a bad season and all I can eat is this cracker.
Thank you for this! I saw a poor kitten who was hungry and I know how he
feels so I gave my last cracker to him ... funny but I am not that hungry.
Look, this is my last pair of slippers ...I may have to walk barefoot next
week, you see this is about to be broken... but it is okay....at least I am
still going to school.... Some say we will have a hard season this month,
some of my classmates have already stopped going to school ..... please help
them get to school again, please God?
...Oh, you know, Inay hit me again, it is painful, but I know this pain
will pass away, at least I still have a mother.... God, you want to see my
bruises? I know you can heal them.... Here... here and ..... oh ...blood
...I guess you knew about this one huh? Please don't be mad at Inay, she
is
just tired and she worries for the food in our table and my schooling that
is why she hits us....Oh, I think I am in love ... there's this pretty girl
in my class, her
name is Anita ... do you think she will like me? Anyway, at least I know
you will always like me, I don't have to be anybody just to please you, you
are
my very best friend! Hey your birthday is two days from now!!! Aren't you
excited? I am! Wait till you see, I have a gift for you . but it is a
surprise! I hope you will like it! Oooops, I have to go ...." then he stood
up and calls out, "Padre, padre, I am finished talking to my friend ....
youcan accompany me to the other side of the road now"
This routine happens everyday. Andoy never fails. Father Agaton shares this
every Sunday to the people in his church because he has not seen a very
pure faith and trust in God, a very positive look at negative situations.
One Christmas day, Father Agaton was sick so he could not make it in the
Church, he was sent to the hospital. The Church was left to 4 manangs who
would chant the rosary in 1000 miles per hour, would not smile and would
always find fault in what you do, they were also very well versed in cursing
if you irritate them! They were kneeling, saying their kilometric rosary
when Andoy, coming from his Christmas party,playfully dashed in.
"Hello God! I ......"
"P----!! (a curse) bata ka!! Alam mo nang may nagdadasal!! Alis!!"
Poor Andoy was so terrified, "Where's Father Agaton? He is supposed to
help me cross the street ... and to be able to cross the street I will
have
to pass by the back door of this church .not only that, I have to greet
Jesus. It is His birthday, I have a gift right here....
" Just as he was about to get the gift out of his shirt, the manang pulled
his shirt and threw him out of the church. "Susmaryosep!!! (does the sign
of the cross fervently) Alis kang bata ka, kung hindi matatamaan ka!!!
So the boy had no choice but to cross the dangerous side of the road in
front of the church. He crossed. A fast moving bus came in.
There was a blind curve. The boy was protecting his gift inside his
shirt,
so he was not looking. There was so little time. Andoy died on the spot. A
lot of people crowded the poor boy, the body of a lifeless young boy ...
Suddenly, out of nowhere a tall man in a pure white shirt and pants, a
face so mild and gentle, but with eyes full of tears... He came and carried
the boy in His arms. He was crying. Curious bystanders nudged the man in
white, and asked,
"Excuse me sir, are you related to this child?
Do you know this child?"
The man in white, His face mourning and in agony, looked up and
answered,
"He was my best friend . " was all he said. He took the badly
wrapped gift in the bloody chest of the lifeless boy, and placed it near
His heart.
He stood up and carried the boy away and they both disappeared in sight.
The crowd was curious ...
On Christmas Eve, Father Agaton learned of the shocking news. He visited
the house, and wanted to verify about the man in white. He consulted the
parents of Andoy.
"How did you know that your son died?"
"A man in white brought him here." sobbed the mother. "What did
he say?"
The father answered, "He did not say anything. He was mourning. We do not
know him and yet he was very lonely about our son's death, as if he knew
our
son very well. But there was something peaceful and unexplainable about him.
He
gave me my son, and then he smiled peacefully. He brushed my son's hair
away from his face and kissed him on his forehead, then he whispered
something..."
"What did he say?"
"He said to my boy..." the father began, "Thank you for the gift
... I will see you soon ... you will be with me..." and the father
of the boy continued, "and you know for a while, it felt so
wonderful ... I cried, but I do not know why....all I know is I
cried tears of joy .... I could not explain it, Father, but when
that man left, something peaceful came over me, I felt a deep sense
of love inside ... I could not explain the joy in my heart, I knew
my boy is in heaven now but...tell me, Father, who is this man that my son
talks to everyday in your church, you should know because you are always
there ... except at the time of his death ......."Father Agaton suddenly
felt the tears welling in his eyes, with
trembling knees, he murmurred, " ... He was talking to no one .....
but .. GOD...."
If you love this story, please. pass this on to your friends.
I just did!
A lovely story...even if you dont get the bits in tagalog....the story still comes through fine..so do spare a moment to read it.
Somewhere in Milaor, Camarines Sur, there lived a fourth grader boy who
would follow this route to school everyday: He has to cross the rugged
plains and cross the dangerous highway where vehicles are recklessly
driving to and from.
Once past this highway, the boy would take a short cut, passing by the
Church every morning just to say Hi to God, and faithfully say
his, "Magandang umaga po" in Bicol dialect. He was faithfully being
watched by a Priest who was happy to find innocence so uplifting in the
morning,
"Kamusta, Andoy? Papasok ka na?"
"Opo padre ... "he would flash his innocent grin, the priest would be
touched. He was so concerned that one day he talked to Andoy.
"From school...", he advised "Do not cross the highway, you can
pass through the Church and I can accompany you to the other side of the
road...that way I can see that you are home safe...."
"Thank you father ... "
"Why don't you go home ... why do you stay in
this church right after school?"
"I just want to say ' Hi ' to my friend, God," and the priest
would leave the boy to spend time beside the altar,
talking to himself, but the priest was hiding behind the altar to listen
to what this boy has to say to his heavenly FATHER.
"You know my math exam was pretty bad today, but I did not cheat although
my seatmate is bullying me for notes... I ate one cracker and drank my
water, Itay had a bad season and all I can eat is this cracker.
Thank you for this! I saw a poor kitten who was hungry and I know how he
feels so I gave my last cracker to him ... funny but I am not that hungry.
Look, this is my last pair of slippers ...I may have to walk barefoot next
week, you see this is about to be broken... but it is okay....at least I am
still going to school.... Some say we will have a hard season this month,
some of my classmates have already stopped going to school ..... please help
them get to school again, please God?
...Oh, you know, Inay hit me again, it is painful, but I know this pain
will pass away, at least I still have a mother.... God, you want to see my
bruises? I know you can heal them.... Here... here and ..... oh ...blood
...I guess you knew about this one huh? Please don't be mad at Inay, she
is
just tired and she worries for the food in our table and my schooling that
is why she hits us....Oh, I think I am in love ... there's this pretty girl
in my class, her
name is Anita ... do you think she will like me? Anyway, at least I know
you will always like me, I don't have to be anybody just to please you, you
are
my very best friend! Hey your birthday is two days from now!!! Aren't you
excited? I am! Wait till you see, I have a gift for you . but it is a
surprise! I hope you will like it! Oooops, I have to go ...." then he stood
up and calls out, "Padre, padre, I am finished talking to my friend ....
youcan accompany me to the other side of the road now"
This routine happens everyday. Andoy never fails. Father Agaton shares this
every Sunday to the people in his church because he has not seen a very
pure faith and trust in God, a very positive look at negative situations.
One Christmas day, Father Agaton was sick so he could not make it in the
Church, he was sent to the hospital. The Church was left to 4 manangs who
would chant the rosary in 1000 miles per hour, would not smile and would
always find fault in what you do, they were also very well versed in cursing
if you irritate them! They were kneeling, saying their kilometric rosary
when Andoy, coming from his Christmas party,playfully dashed in.
"Hello God! I ......"
"P----!! (a curse) bata ka!! Alam mo nang may nagdadasal!! Alis!!"
Poor Andoy was so terrified, "Where's Father Agaton? He is supposed to
help me cross the street ... and to be able to cross the street I will
have
to pass by the back door of this church .not only that, I have to greet
Jesus. It is His birthday, I have a gift right here....
" Just as he was about to get the gift out of his shirt, the manang pulled
his shirt and threw him out of the church. "Susmaryosep!!! (does the sign
of the cross fervently) Alis kang bata ka, kung hindi matatamaan ka!!!
So the boy had no choice but to cross the dangerous side of the road in
front of the church. He crossed. A fast moving bus came in.
There was a blind curve. The boy was protecting his gift inside his
shirt,
so he was not looking. There was so little time. Andoy died on the spot. A
lot of people crowded the poor boy, the body of a lifeless young boy ...
Suddenly, out of nowhere a tall man in a pure white shirt and pants, a
face so mild and gentle, but with eyes full of tears... He came and carried
the boy in His arms. He was crying. Curious bystanders nudged the man in
white, and asked,
"Excuse me sir, are you related to this child?
Do you know this child?"
The man in white, His face mourning and in agony, looked up and
answered,
"He was my best friend . " was all he said. He took the badly
wrapped gift in the bloody chest of the lifeless boy, and placed it near
His heart.
He stood up and carried the boy away and they both disappeared in sight.
The crowd was curious ...
On Christmas Eve, Father Agaton learned of the shocking news. He visited
the house, and wanted to verify about the man in white. He consulted the
parents of Andoy.
"How did you know that your son died?"
"A man in white brought him here." sobbed the mother. "What did
he say?"
The father answered, "He did not say anything. He was mourning. We do not
know him and yet he was very lonely about our son's death, as if he knew
our
son very well. But there was something peaceful and unexplainable about him.
He
gave me my son, and then he smiled peacefully. He brushed my son's hair
away from his face and kissed him on his forehead, then he whispered
something..."
"What did he say?"
"He said to my boy..." the father began, "Thank you for the gift
... I will see you soon ... you will be with me..." and the father
of the boy continued, "and you know for a while, it felt so
wonderful ... I cried, but I do not know why....all I know is I
cried tears of joy .... I could not explain it, Father, but when
that man left, something peaceful came over me, I felt a deep sense
of love inside ... I could not explain the joy in my heart, I knew
my boy is in heaven now but...tell me, Father, who is this man that my son
talks to everyday in your church, you should know because you are always
there ... except at the time of his death ......."Father Agaton suddenly
felt the tears welling in his eyes, with
trembling knees, he murmurred, " ... He was talking to no one .....
but .. GOD...."
If you love this story, please. pass this on to your friends.
I just did!
Friday, October 12, 2007
What the Modern Woman Wants
Another story from email..
It's worthwhile taking 5 mins to read this essay.
Singapore girl wins Commonwealth essay prize!
A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean, competing against 16- to 18-year-olds, has
won the top prize in a writing contest that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries.
In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls' School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.
Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflict in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.
'Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-versus-West struggles and generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,' said Amanda, who likes drama, history and literature and wants to become a lawyer and a politician.
Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a 'powerfully moving and ironical critique of modern
restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences'. The writing is fluent and assured, with excellent use of dialogue.
Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in 2000, said Britain 's Royal Commonwealth
Society, which has been organising the competition since 1883. Singaporeans also came in second in the
14- to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the under-12s. Other winners included students from
Australia, Canada and South Africa .
==================================================================
What the Modern Woman Wants
By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen
The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching
tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such
speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent
leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show
very clearly on white, Ma.'
Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old
woman could barely understand. 'Finance' 'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and
important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on
television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.
'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the
accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.
'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward
the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap.
She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.
'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. 'I have a big client in
America. There have been a lot of problems.'
The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking.
Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.
The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward
silence.
'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine.
She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking',
Chinese ones being easily forgotten.
'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird
daily prayer ritual.'
Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed
That her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.
'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'
The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence.
The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the
ageing temple's roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main
hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she
made her brisk way to her mother's side.
'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not bothering to hide her disgust
at the pungent fumes of incense.
The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her
now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.
Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you
have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house
with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.
What you see is not true - she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides
well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be
hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.
The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence
she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes. She bowed once more.
The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a
melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son. Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.
Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed
that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed
that her daughter would never have to depend on a man. She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.
She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her,
speaking a language she scarcely understood. She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to
one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a
word so new there was no Chinese word for it.
Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that.
The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had
buried the girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors
by only a string of origami banknotes.
Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman.
Power, wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness.
The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth everything
she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she
would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions. The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.
The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar.
Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so
faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of
wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life. Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar.
The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.
Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look
of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing
through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness. They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not as fast as she had done before.
'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we
plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to
pay seven million for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect
one in Orchard Road . Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more
space to ourselves...'
The old woman nodded knowingly.
Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out-but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that,
the apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided
the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang-it's a Christian home, a very
nice one.'
The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.
'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be happier there.' 'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.
This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and
fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk
deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.
'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?'
What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you
happy,' she added more quietly.
'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack
your things.' Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.
'I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love, Power and now, Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down... Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!'
Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her...
And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in
the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.
It's worthwhile taking 5 mins to read this essay.
Singapore girl wins Commonwealth essay prize!
A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean, competing against 16- to 18-year-olds, has
won the top prize in a writing contest that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries.
In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls' School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.
Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflict in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.
'Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-versus-West struggles and generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,' said Amanda, who likes drama, history and literature and wants to become a lawyer and a politician.
Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a 'powerfully moving and ironical critique of modern
restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences'. The writing is fluent and assured, with excellent use of dialogue.
Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in 2000, said Britain 's Royal Commonwealth
Society, which has been organising the competition since 1883. Singaporeans also came in second in the
14- to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the under-12s. Other winners included students from
Australia, Canada and South Africa .
==================================================================
What the Modern Woman Wants
By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen
The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching
tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such
speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent
leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show
very clearly on white, Ma.'
Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old
woman could barely understand. 'Finance' 'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and
important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on
television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.
'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the
accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.
'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward
the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap.
She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.
'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. 'I have a big client in
America. There have been a lot of problems.'
The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking.
Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.
The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward
silence.
'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine.
She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking',
Chinese ones being easily forgotten.
'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird
daily prayer ritual.'
Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed
That her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.
'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'
The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence.
The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the
ageing temple's roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main
hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she
made her brisk way to her mother's side.
'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not bothering to hide her disgust
at the pungent fumes of incense.
The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her
now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.
Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you
have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house
with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.
What you see is not true - she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides
well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be
hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.
The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence
she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes. She bowed once more.
The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a
melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son. Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.
Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed
that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed
that her daughter would never have to depend on a man. She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.
She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her,
speaking a language she scarcely understood. She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to
one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a
word so new there was no Chinese word for it.
Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that.
The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had
buried the girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors
by only a string of origami banknotes.
Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman.
Power, wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness.
The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth everything
she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she
would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions. The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.
The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar.
Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so
faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of
wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life. Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar.
The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.
Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look
of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing
through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness. They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not as fast as she had done before.
'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we
plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to
pay seven million for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect
one in Orchard Road . Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more
space to ourselves...'
The old woman nodded knowingly.
Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out-but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that,
the apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided
the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang-it's a Christian home, a very
nice one.'
The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.
'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be happier there.' 'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.
This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and
fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk
deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.
'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?'
What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you
happy,' she added more quietly.
'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack
your things.' Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.
'I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love, Power and now, Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down... Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!'
Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her...
And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in
the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.
Moral Story....
Got this off email. Would like to share it here. Keep reading it until the end. In the beginning you may feel like killing the 'beep' of the man (i know i did)...just hold on before doing so.
When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand
and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly.
Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my
mouth.
But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised
the topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly,
why?
I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks
and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to
each other.
She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to a lovely girl called Dew.
I didn't love her anymore...I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that
she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced
at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years
of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time,
resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved
Dew so dearly.
Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had
expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of
divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and
clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at
the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell
asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Dew.
When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I
turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want
anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She
requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a
life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's
time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to
recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She
requested that everyday for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom
to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make
our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and
thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to
face the divorce, she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was
explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both
appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in
his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the
sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms.
She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce.
I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to
wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my
chest... I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realised that I hadn't
looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realised she was not young
any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying!
Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done
to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realised that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Dew about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses
but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have
grown bigger.
I suddenly realised that she had grown so thin, that was the
reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me, she had buried
so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and
touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mum out. To
him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part
of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him
tightly.
I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom,
through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly
and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in
my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her
tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.
I drove to office... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door.
I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind... I walked upstairs.
Dew opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I do not want the divorce
anymore.
She looked at me, astonished and then touched my forehead. Do you have a
fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I won't
divorce my wife. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I
didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each
other any more.
Now I realise that since I carried her into my home on our wedding
day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart. Dew seemed to
suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and
burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.
At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my
wife.
The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote:
"I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart".
The small details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship. It
is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank,
blah..blah..blah. These create an environment conducive for happiness
but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's
friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy.
Do have a real happy marriage!
If you don't share this email with your loved ones and friends, nothing
will happen to you, but if you do, you just might save a marriage.
- Author unknown -
If i had known about this story sooner, i would have save some marriages. 50-50 chance better then 0.
When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand
and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly.
Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my
mouth.
But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised
the topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly,
why?
I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks
and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to
each other.
She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to a lovely girl called Dew.
I didn't love her anymore...I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that
she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced
at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years
of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time,
resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved
Dew so dearly.
Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had
expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of
divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and
clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at
the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell
asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Dew.
When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I
turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want
anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She
requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a
life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's
time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to
recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She
requested that everyday for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom
to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make
our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and
thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to
face the divorce, she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was
explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both
appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in
his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the
sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms.
She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce.
I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to
wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my
chest... I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realised that I hadn't
looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realised she was not young
any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying!
Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done
to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realised that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Dew about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses
but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have
grown bigger.
I suddenly realised that she had grown so thin, that was the
reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me, she had buried
so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and
touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mum out. To
him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part
of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him
tightly.
I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom,
through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly
and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in
my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her
tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.
I drove to office... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door.
I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind... I walked upstairs.
Dew opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I do not want the divorce
anymore.
She looked at me, astonished and then touched my forehead. Do you have a
fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I won't
divorce my wife. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I
didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each
other any more.
Now I realise that since I carried her into my home on our wedding
day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart. Dew seemed to
suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and
burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.
At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my
wife.
The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote:
"I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart".
The small details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship. It
is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank,
blah..blah..blah. These create an environment conducive for happiness
but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's
friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy.
Do have a real happy marriage!
If you don't share this email with your loved ones and friends, nothing
will happen to you, but if you do, you just might save a marriage.
- Author unknown -
If i had known about this story sooner, i would have save some marriages. 50-50 chance better then 0.
Monday, September 24, 2007
God's love...
This story is dedicated to all the angels out there. You are the unsung heros. One may not know it, things we do some times can make an impact to another person's life.
Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the
Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and
hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and
his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold
outside, as well as pouring down rain. The boy bundled up in his
warmest and driest clothes and said, "OK, dad, I'm ready."
His Pastor dad asked, "Ready for what?"
"Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out." Dad
responds, "Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring down rain."
The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, "But Dad, aren't
people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?"
Dad answers, "Son, I am not going out in this weather."
Despondently, the boy asks, "Dad, can I go? Please?"
His father hesitated for a moment then said, "Son, you can go.
Here are the tracts, be careful son.."
"Thanks Dad!"
And with that, he was off and out into the rain. his eleven year old
boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing
everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract.
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled
wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and
looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were
totally deserted.
Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the
sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell,
but nobody answered. He rang it again and again, but still no one
answered. He waited but still no answer.
Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something
stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and
knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something
holding him there on the front porch! He rang again and this time
the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a very sad-
looking elderly lady. She softly asked, "What can I do for you,
son?" With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this
little boy said, "Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just
want to tell you that *JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU* and I came to
give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about
JESUS and His great LOVE."
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She
called to him as he departed. "Thank you, son! And God Bless You!"
Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the
pulpit. As the service began, he asked, "Does anybody have any
testimony or want to say anything?"
Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her
feet. As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from
her face, "No one in this church knows me. I've never been here
before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My
husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this
world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was
even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I
no longer had any hope or will to live.
So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into
the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in
the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the
rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and
brokenhearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud
ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought,
"I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away." I waited and
waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more
insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly.
I thought to myself again, "Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever
rings my bell or comes to see me." I loosened the rope from my neck
and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder
and louder.
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes,
for there on my front porch was the most radiant and
angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I
could never describe it to you! The words that came from his mouth
caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he
exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, "Ma'am, I just came to tell you
that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU." Then he gave me this
Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand.
As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I
closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then
I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be
needing them any more.
You see---I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of
your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here
to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in
the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in
hell."
There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and
honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building,
Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the
little angel was seated.
He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Probably no
church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe
has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his
son... Except for One.
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
Our Father also allowed His Son to go out into a cold and dark
world. He received His Son back with joy unspeakable, and as all of
heaven shouted praises and honor to The King, the Father sat His
beloved Son on a throne far above all principality and power and
every name that is named.
Blessed are your eyes for reading this message.
Don't let this message die, read it again and pass it to others.
Heaven is for His people! Remember, God's message CAN make the
difference in the life of someone close to you.
Please share this wonderful message...
"Faith is the affirmation and the act that bids eternal truth be
present fact." Coleridge
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
==============
Just 3 Words
==============
Three things in life that, once gone, never come back -
1. Time
2. Words
3. Opportunity
Three things in life that can destroy a person -
1. Anger
2. Pride
3. Unforgiveness
Three things in life that you should never lose-
1. Hope
2. Peace
3. Honesty
Three things in life that are most valuable -
1. Love
2. Family & Friends
3. Kindness
Three things in life that are never certain -
1. Fortune
2. Success
3. Dreams
Three things that make a person -
1. Commitment
2. Sincerity
3. Hard work
Three things that are truly constant -
Father - Son - Holy Spirit
I ask the Lord to bless you, as I pray for you today;
to guide you and protect you, as you go along your way.
God's love is always with you, God's promises are true.
And when you give God all your cares, you know God will see you
through.
Pass this along to People you want God to Bless!
~~~***My God Reigns***~~~
No one falls in love by choice, it is by CHANCE.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by WORK.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by CHOICE
scroll down
|
|
|
\/
If you love this man
please forward this message.
He did something for you, now do something for him.
Spread his word, and you'll be rewarded.
How will you be rewarded?
"Whoever acknowledges Me before men,
I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven.
But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown
him before My Father in heaven" - Matthew 10:32
Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the
Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and
hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and
his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold
outside, as well as pouring down rain. The boy bundled up in his
warmest and driest clothes and said, "OK, dad, I'm ready."
His Pastor dad asked, "Ready for what?"
"Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out." Dad
responds, "Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring down rain."
The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, "But Dad, aren't
people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?"
Dad answers, "Son, I am not going out in this weather."
Despondently, the boy asks, "Dad, can I go? Please?"
His father hesitated for a moment then said, "Son, you can go.
Here are the tracts, be careful son.."
"Thanks Dad!"
And with that, he was off and out into the rain. his eleven year old
boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing
everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract.
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled
wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and
looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were
totally deserted.
Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the
sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell,
but nobody answered. He rang it again and again, but still no one
answered. He waited but still no answer.
Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something
stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and
knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something
holding him there on the front porch! He rang again and this time
the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a very sad-
looking elderly lady. She softly asked, "What can I do for you,
son?" With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this
little boy said, "Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just
want to tell you that *JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU* and I came to
give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about
JESUS and His great LOVE."
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She
called to him as he departed. "Thank you, son! And God Bless You!"
Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the
pulpit. As the service began, he asked, "Does anybody have any
testimony or want to say anything?"
Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her
feet. As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from
her face, "No one in this church knows me. I've never been here
before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My
husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this
world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was
even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I
no longer had any hope or will to live.
So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into
the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in
the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the
rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and
brokenhearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud
ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought,
"I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away." I waited and
waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more
insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly.
I thought to myself again, "Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever
rings my bell or comes to see me." I loosened the rope from my neck
and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder
and louder.
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes,
for there on my front porch was the most radiant and
angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I
could never describe it to you! The words that came from his mouth
caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he
exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, "Ma'am, I just came to tell you
that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU." Then he gave me this
Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand.
As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I
closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then
I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be
needing them any more.
You see---I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of
your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here
to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in
the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in
hell."
There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and
honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building,
Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the
little angel was seated.
He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Probably no
church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe
has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his
son... Except for One.
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
Our Father also allowed His Son to go out into a cold and dark
world. He received His Son back with joy unspeakable, and as all of
heaven shouted praises and honor to The King, the Father sat His
beloved Son on a throne far above all principality and power and
every name that is named.
Blessed are your eyes for reading this message.
Don't let this message die, read it again and pass it to others.
Heaven is for His people! Remember, God's message CAN make the
difference in the life of someone close to you.
Please share this wonderful message...
"Faith is the affirmation and the act that bids eternal truth be
present fact." Coleridge
- - - / - / - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lifecoaches - / - / - - -
==============
Just 3 Words
==============
Three things in life that, once gone, never come back -
1. Time
2. Words
3. Opportunity
Three things in life that can destroy a person -
1. Anger
2. Pride
3. Unforgiveness
Three things in life that you should never lose-
1. Hope
2. Peace
3. Honesty
Three things in life that are most valuable -
1. Love
2. Family & Friends
3. Kindness
Three things in life that are never certain -
1. Fortune
2. Success
3. Dreams
Three things that make a person -
1. Commitment
2. Sincerity
3. Hard work
Three things that are truly constant -
Father - Son - Holy Spirit
I ask the Lord to bless you, as I pray for you today;
to guide you and protect you, as you go along your way.
God's love is always with you, God's promises are true.
And when you give God all your cares, you know God will see you
through.
Pass this along to People you want God to Bless!
~~~***My God Reigns***~~~
No one falls in love by choice, it is by CHANCE.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by WORK.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by CHOICE
scroll down
|
|
|
\/
If you love this man
please forward this message.
He did something for you, now do something for him.
Spread his word, and you'll be rewarded.
How will you be rewarded?
"Whoever acknowledges Me before men,
I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven.
But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown
him before My Father in heaven" - Matthew 10:32
Monday, September 10, 2007
Some thing to share..
One day a woman's husband died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't anymore. No more hugs, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat, no more "just one minute." Sometimes, what we care about the most gets all used up and goes away, never to return before we can say good-bye, say "I love you."
So while we have it, it's best we love it and care for it and fix it when it's broken?and heal it when it's sick. This is true for marriage...and old cars?and children with bad report cards and dogs with bad hips and aging parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.
Some things we keep -- like a best friend who moved away or a classmate we grew up with. There are just some things that make us happy, no matter what.
Life is important, like people we know who are special, and so we keep them close!
I was thinking...I could die today, tomorrow or next week, and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that needed rekindling or three words needing to be said.
Let every one of your friends know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back, you would be amazed at what those three little words and a smile can do.
And just in case GOD calls me home ?I LOVE YA!!! I'm so glad you're my FRIEND! And a part of my life!
Live today to the fullest because tomorrow is not promised.
What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments,
but what is woven into the lives of others."
~ Pericles
So while we have it, it's best we love it and care for it and fix it when it's broken?and heal it when it's sick. This is true for marriage...and old cars?and children with bad report cards and dogs with bad hips and aging parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.
Some things we keep -- like a best friend who moved away or a classmate we grew up with. There are just some things that make us happy, no matter what.
Life is important, like people we know who are special, and so we keep them close!
I was thinking...I could die today, tomorrow or next week, and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that needed rekindling or three words needing to be said.
Let every one of your friends know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back, you would be amazed at what those three little words and a smile can do.
And just in case GOD calls me home ?I LOVE YA!!! I'm so glad you're my FRIEND! And a part of my life!
Live today to the fullest because tomorrow is not promised.
What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments,
but what is woven into the lives of others."
~ Pericles
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The Bridge
Long time ago, i read this story, i forgot who gave it to me but will like to share it with you.
There was once a big turntable bridge, which spanned a large river. During most of the day, the bridge sat with the length running up and down the river parallel with the banks allowing ships to pass freely on both sides of the bridge. But, at certain times of the day, a certain train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river allowing the train to cross.
A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river, where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place when the train crossed. One evening, when the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance, through the dimming twilight, and caught sight of the train's light. He stepped to the controls and waited until the train was at a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but to his horror, he found that the locking control didn't work. If the bridge was not locked securely into position, it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came to it, causing the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.
He left the shack with the bridge turned across the river, and hurried to the other side of the river, where there was a lever, which he could use to operate the lock manually. He could hear the rumble of the train now, and leaned backwards to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. Many lives depended upon this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the other direction, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. "Daddy, where are you?" His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first instinct was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!" But the train was too close. The tiny feet would never make it across the bridge in time. The man almost left the lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to safety, but he realized he could not get back to the lever in time. Either the people on the train, or his son, must die. He took just a moment to make his decision.
The train sped swiftly and safely on its way, and no one on board was even aware of the tiny, broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the rushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of a sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed. They didn't see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked to tell his wife how he had sacrificed their son.
Now, if you can comprehend the emotions, which went through this man's heart, you can begin to understand the feelings of our Heavenly Father, when He sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us, and eternal life. Can there be any wonder that he caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His Son died? And how does it feel when we speed along life without giving a thought to what was done for us through Jesus Christ?
When was the last time you thanked Him for the sacrifice of His Son?
There was once a big turntable bridge, which spanned a large river. During most of the day, the bridge sat with the length running up and down the river parallel with the banks allowing ships to pass freely on both sides of the bridge. But, at certain times of the day, a certain train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river allowing the train to cross.
A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river, where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place when the train crossed. One evening, when the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance, through the dimming twilight, and caught sight of the train's light. He stepped to the controls and waited until the train was at a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge. He turned the bridge into position, but to his horror, he found that the locking control didn't work. If the bridge was not locked securely into position, it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came to it, causing the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.
He left the shack with the bridge turned across the river, and hurried to the other side of the river, where there was a lever, which he could use to operate the lock manually. He could hear the rumble of the train now, and leaned backwards to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. Many lives depended upon this man's strength.
Then, coming across the bridge from the other direction, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. "Daddy, where are you?" His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first instinct was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!" But the train was too close. The tiny feet would never make it across the bridge in time. The man almost left the lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to safety, but he realized he could not get back to the lever in time. Either the people on the train, or his son, must die. He took just a moment to make his decision.
The train sped swiftly and safely on its way, and no one on board was even aware of the tiny, broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the rushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of a sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed. They didn't see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked to tell his wife how he had sacrificed their son.
Now, if you can comprehend the emotions, which went through this man's heart, you can begin to understand the feelings of our Heavenly Father, when He sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us, and eternal life. Can there be any wonder that he caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His Son died? And how does it feel when we speed along life without giving a thought to what was done for us through Jesus Christ?
When was the last time you thanked Him for the sacrifice of His Son?
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