Archive for the ‘Emotions’ Category.

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February 3, 2012

FW: If Nobody Smiled

If nobody smiled, and nobody cared,
And nobody helped us along;
If every fellow looked out for himself,
And the good things all went to the strong;
If nobody cared just a little for you,
And nobody thought about me,
And we stood all alone in the battle of life,
What a dreary old world this would be!

Life is sweet because of the friends we love,
And the things that in common we share;
And we want to live on, not because of ourselves,
But because of the people who care.
It’s giving and doing for somebody else–
On that all of life’s splendor depends;
And the joy in this world, when you’ve summed it all up,
Is found in the love of our friends.

-Arthur James Hayden

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January 25, 2012

FW: The Man & the Lighthouse

There was in a certain city a harbor where ships from all over the world would come and dock. However, the harbor was in between a treacherous and rocky shore. During stormy nights, ships would see the city lights off in the distance and head toward the lights hoping to find refuge from the pounding surf.

The ships would struggle against the storm as they made their way to the safety of the harbor. As they drew near, seeing the dangerous rocks, the captain of the ship would try to turn and avoid striking the rocks but it was too late. Many ships were destroyed and hundreds of sailors lost their lives because they did not know of the danger. You see, the people of the city did not feel that it was necessary to build a lighthouse. Besides, it would cost too much money to build a lighthouse they reasoned. So year after year and storm after storm ships would be ship wrecked and many lives lost.

There was a man in that city that saw the need. He felt grief and heartache because the people of the city were content to let the ships be destroyed and were not willing to rescue the drowning sailors. So he took it upon himself to do something about it. He tried to recruit volunteers to help him but no one wanted to. He persisted, looking for someone to help him, but they all just laughed at him and said that he was crazy to risk his life to try to save strangers and people who looked different.

Determined to make a difference, he sold everything that he had and bought a piece of land close to the shore and built his house there. It was a lighthouse.

So during stormy nights, the man would make sure that the light from the lighthouse was shining as bright as it could so the ships could be warned of the dangerous rocks. His lighthouse saved hundreds of lives and ships from being ship wrecked that year. But it wasn’t enough because even with the lighthouse some of the storms were so powerful that the ships struggling to come into the harbor were tossed about by the wind and the waves that they would get smashed against the rocks.

Being a compassionate man, he would run to the roaring sea at the risk of his own life to rescue as many sailors as he could. Then he would bring them into the warmth and safety of the lighthouse. Once there he would heal their wounds and feed them until they were able to sail again.

The man labored by himself for years rescuing sailors and caring for their needs. Each person that he saved was so grateful to him that they couldn’t thank him enough for rescuing them from certain death. But all the man could feel was sadness because many more sailors died in the sea than he could save. “If only I had help,” he would say. “If only someone would see the need as I do and come and help. Lord please send someone to help, I can’t do it all by myself,” he prayed.

Then one day it happened, his prayers were answered. His generosity became well known in the land. People in the city began to volunteer to come and help the man keep vigil during stormy nights. Men began to take shifts keeping watch and helping rescue sailors. Then women started cooking and preparing bandages for the wounded sailors. The children did whatever they could to help lift the spirits of the sick.

Ships still wreck along the treacherous shoreline, but now because there are so many people there to help the man, many more lives are saved than are lost. Together everyone accomplished much. Together they made a difference.

by Danny Lizarraga

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November 27, 2011

FW: Jesus Hugs

Have you ever had a “Jesus hug?”
Do you know what one feels like?
If you’ve never had a “Jesus hug,”
I pray one day you might.

A “Jesus hug” is different,
As far as hugging goes;
It’s a little taste of Heaven,
Here on earth below.

Only those who love the Lord,
Can give a “Jesus hug;”
It conveys God’s grace and mercy,
And unconditional love.

Those who give out “Jesus hugs”
Always seem to somehow know
Just when you’re in need of one
To make your spirit glow.

And if you ever need one
I hope that I will see,
So I can give you a “Jesus hug;”
Just like someone did for me.

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November 19, 2011

FW: The Inconvenient Soldier

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam.

He called his parents from San Francisco.

“Mom and Dad, I’m coming home, but I’ve got a favor to ask. I have a friend I’d like to bring with me.”

“Sure,” they replied, “we’d love to meet him.”

“There’s something you should know the son continued, “he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mined and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live.”

“No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us.”

“Son,” said the father, “you don’t know what you’re asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can’t let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He’ll find a way to live on his own.”

At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him.

A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn’t know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don’t like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren’t as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are.

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November 13, 2011

FW: The Bridge Builder

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,
“You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way;
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you a bridge at the eventide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head:
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.”

-Will Allen Dromgoole

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If you were busy being kind,
Before you knew it you would find
You’d soon forget to think `twas true
That someone was unkind to you.

If you were busy being glad
And cheering people who seem sad,
Although your heart might ache a bit,
You’d soon forget to notice it.

If you were busy being good,
And doing just the best you could,
You’d not have time to blame some man
Who’s doing just the best he can.

If you were busy being true
To what you know you ought to do,
You’d be so busy you’d forget
The blunders of the folks you’ve met.

If you were busy being right,
You’d find yourself too busy quite
To criticize your neighbor long,
Because he’s busy being wrong.

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November 1, 2011

FW: The Governor’s Wife

There is a cute story told about the Governor of Texas, then Mark White.

Governor White and his wife were driving through the open Texas countryside one-day, out for a relaxing drive and talk.

The couple happened to be around the area where Mrs. White grew up, and as they pulled into a gas station to fuel up and check out the car, Mark noticed a little nervousness with his wife. He didn’t say anything, but when the gas station attendant came out to their car, Mark began to notice what was really going on. Both his wife and the attendant looked surprised to see each other, and they acted with that awkwardness that two people have when they’ve been close in the past, but weren’t anymore.

Governor White pretended not to notice this. They finished at the gas station and continued back down the highway. The car fell silent and neither said a word. For a long time they remained silent, and all the while Mrs. White kept looking out the window, staring off out into the distance. Mark was considerate and patient with this silence, and he continued to drive in the silence. But after the silence had gone on for almost an hour, he interrupted, trying to break the silence.

“Honey, I couldn’t help but notice how you and that gas station attendant looked at each other. You were involved with each other at one point, weren’t you,” he asked?

“Well, yea,” She responded, quietly.

“Well, I guess I know how you feel. You were probably thinking about that and needed some space, right,” he continued?

“Yea,” she said again.

“I guess you were probably thinking about how different your two lives had become. I guess you were thinking that if you had married him, then you’d be the wife of a gas station attendant now, instead of my wife. Right,” he said?

“Well, No. Actually I was thinking that he’d be the governor now.”

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Several first graders were discussing a picture of a family.

One little boy in the picture had a different color hair than the other family members.

One child suggested that he was adopted and a little girl said, “I know all about adoptions because I was adopted.”

“What does it mean to be adopted?” asked another child.

“It means,” said the girl, “that you grew in your mommy’s heart instead of her tummy.”

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It is the last day of the school year and I stand empty-handed with no gift to give you.

It isn’t that I haven’t tried to think of something thoughtful and kind… quite to the contrary. For months, I have combed catalogs, browsed specialty shops and department stores, inquired of novelty shops, and even searched the Internet only to realize that no bauble or trinket or card could measure up to the feelings of a mother’s grateful heart and a teacher’s loving dedication.

How I wish a colorful bundle of fresh wildflowers could reflect the beauty of your way with children — the constant patience and nurturing, the gentle encouragement. A keepsake basket laden with soothing soaps and bath oils would eventually serve only as a common gift were its sturdy, woven walls not filled to overflowing with examples of the individual ways you have touched the lives of your students.

Jewelry would surely be nice, but what can I afford that would not soon tarnish or grow quickly out of style? You deserve the gems of royalty for your perseverance and creativity, your devotion and talent. During the past year, I have given you many small gifts, mostly intangible ones.

At the moment the first school bell rang last August, I placed in you my trust, believing you would teach my child and reserve respect for me as a parent. I added to that my constant and fervent prayers that you would be objective and fair with the ability to set limitations while offering my child a chance to learn self-control and to soar a bit in the process. I sincerely petitioned that your classroom would be a safe haven for my child to grow and learn, lending itself to the crazy, yet somehow perfect, mixture of self-discipline and controlled instruction. I prayed for your health and your happiness, and your ability to be supplied with the tools necessary to complete your task as teacher and educator and mentor. I offered you my time as often as I could, and my support for your endeavors. Occasionally, I even offered you a challenge when I spoke my mind, sometimes standing firm, sometimes backing down with a renewed assurance or a “wait and see” attitude!

I wish with all my heart I could put a delicate ribbon on a gaily wrapped package and give you a “something” to express my appreciation and affection, but I have nothing to give you that would surpass the most precious gift I have ever had to offer and which you already so graciously accepted months ago — the one you have held close to your heart, laughed with and probably cried with, applauded and scolded, lifted and encouraged, molded and shaped — my child!

And today, as my child returns to my side for the summer, the gift I humbly give to you is found deep within my heart…

I give to you my thanks.

By Amanda Krug

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No moving parts, no batteries.
No monthly payments and no fees;
Inflation proof, non-taxable,
In fact, it’s quite relaxable;

It can’t be stolen, won’t pollute,
One size fits all, do not dilute.
It uses little energy,
But yields results enormously.

Relieves your tension and your stress,
Invigorate your happiness;
Combats depression, makes you beam,
And elevates your self esteem!

Your circulation it corrects
Without unpleasant side effects
It is, I think, the perfect drug:
May I prescribe, my friend—the hug!

And, of course, fully returnable!

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