Friends

Mark was walking home from school one day when he noticed the boy ahead of him had tripped and dropped all of the books he was carrying, along with two sweaters, a baseball bat, a glove and a small tape recorder. Mark knelt down and helped the boy pick up the scattered articles.

Since they were going the same way, he helped to carry part of the burden. As they walked Mark discovered the boy's name was Bill, that he loved video games, baseball and history, and that he was having lots of trouble with his other subjects and that he had just broken up with his girlfriend.

They arrived at Bill's home first and Mark was invited in for a Coke and to watch some television. The afternoon passed pleasantly with a few laughs and some shared small talk, then Mark went home.

They continued to see each other around school, had lunch together once or twice, then both graduated from junior high school. They ended up in the same high school where they had brief contacts over the years.

Finally the long-awaited senior year came and three weeks before graduation, Bill asked Mark if they could talk.

Bill reminded him of the day years ago when they had first met. "Did you ever wonder why I was carrying so many things home that day?" asked Bill. "You see, I cleaned out my locker because I didn't want to leave a mess for anyone else. I had stored away some of my mothers sleeping pills and I was going home to commit suicide. But after we spent some time together talking and laughing, I realized that if I had killed myself, I would have missed that time and so many others that might follow. So you see, Mark, when you picked up those books that day, you did a lot more, you saved my life.


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Li'l Girl in the Park

There was this lil' girl one day sitting in the park. Everyone passed and never stopped to see why she looked so sad. Dressed in a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the people go by. She never tried to speak, she never said a word. Many people passed, but never did one person stop.
Just so happens the next day I decided to go back to the park, curious to see if the lil' girl would still be there. Right in the very spot as she was the day before, she sat perched on high, the saddest look in her eyes.

Today I was going to make my own move and walk over to the lil' girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the lil' girl's dress was obscenely shaped. I figured that was a reason the people just passed by and made no effort to help. Deformities are a low blow to our society and so help you make a step toward assisting someone who is different. As I got closer the lil' girl slightly lowered her eyes to avoid my intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the obscene shape of her back more clearly, humped over and grotesquely shaped. I smiled to let her know it was ok, I was there to help, to talk.

I sat down beside her and opened with a simple "Hello." The lil' girl acted shocked and stammered a "hi" after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked till darkness fell and the park was completely empty. Everyone was gone and we were alone.

I asked the girl why she was so sad. The she looked at me and with a sad face said, "Because I'm different."

I immediately said, "That you are!", and smiled. The lil' girl acted even sadder. She said, "I know."

"Lil' girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent." She looked at me and smiled, slowly she stood to her feet, and said, "Really?"

"Yes ma'am, you're like a lil' guardian angel sent to watch over all those people walking by."

She nodded her head yes and smiled, with that, she spread her wings and said, "I am! I'm your guardian angel, with a twinkle in her eye."

I was speechless, sure I was seeing things. She said, "For once, you thought of someone other than yourself, my job here is done."

Immediately I stood to my feet and said, "Wait! So why did no one stop to help an angel?"

She looked at me and smiled, "You're the only one that could see me, you believe in your heart." And then... she was gone.

And with that my life was changed dramatically. So, when you think *you* are all you have, remember, your angel is always watching over you.

Author Unknown


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If Only I had Known

Thomas Carlyle lived from 1795 until 1881. He was a Scot essayist and historian. During his lifetime he became one of the world's greatest writers. But he was a human and humans make mistakes.
On October 17, 1826, Carlyle married his secretary Jane Welsh. She was an intelligent, attractive and somewhat temperamental daughter of a well-to-do doctor. They had their quarrels and misunderstandings, but still loved each other dearly.

After their marriage, Jane continued to serve as his secretary. But, after several years of marriage, Jane became ill. Being a hard worker, Carlyle became so absorbed in his writings that he let Jane continue working for several weeks after she became ill. She had cancer, and though it was one of the slow growing kind, she finally became confined to her bed. Although Carlyle loved her dearly, he very seldom found time to stay with her long. He was busy with his work.

When Jane died they carried her to the cemetery for the service. The day was a miserable day. It was raining hard and the mud was deep. Following the funeral Carlyle went back to his home. He was taking it pretty hard. He went up the stairs to Jane's room and sat down in the chair next to her bed. He sat there thinking about how little time he had spent with her and wishing so much he had a chance to do it differently. Noticing her diary on a table beside the bed, he picked it up and began to read it. Suddenly he seemed shocked. He saw it. There, on one page, she had written a single line. "Yesterday he spent an hour with me and it was like heaven; I love him so."

Something dawned on him that he had not noticed before. He had been too busy to notice that he meant so much to her. He thought of all the times he had gone about his work without thinking about and noticing her. Then Carlyle turned the page in the diary. There he noticed she had written some words that broke his heart. "I have listened all day to hear his steps in the hall, but now it is late and I guess he won't come today."

Carlyle read a little more in the book. Then he threw it down and ran out of the house. Some of his friends found him at the grave, his face buried in the mud. His eyes were red from weeping. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He kept repeating over and over again, "If I had only known, if I had only known." But it was too late for Carlyle. She was dead.

After Jane's death, Carlyle made little attempt to write again. The historians say he lived another 15 years, "weary, bored and a partial recluse." I share the story with in the hope that you will not make the same mistake. While our loved ones must have the money we make to live, it is the love we have that they really want. Give it now before it is too late.



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Information Please

Information Please


When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. "Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information"

"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me." I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called "Information Please" and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."

"Information," said the now familiar voice.

"How do you spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information, Please."

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information."

I hadn't planned this but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed. "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time."

"I wonder", she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered "Information."

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" She said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this", she said. "Sally had been working part- time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?"

"Yes."

"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you."

The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.


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Jerry

Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"
He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life."

I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand,shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body. I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"

I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live.

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.

Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man. " I knew I needed to take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply... I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.


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A Love Story

It all started when I was 6 years old. While I was playing outside on my farm in California, I met a boy. He was an average kind of boy who teased you and then you chased them and beat them up. After that first meeting in which I beat him up we kept on meeting and beating each other up at the fence. That only lasted for a little while though.
We would meet at the fence all the time and we were always together. I would tell him all my secrets. He was quite very quiet he would just listen to what I had to say. I found him easy to talk to and I could talk to him about everything.

In school we had separate friends but when we got home we would always talk about what happened in school. One day I said to him that a guy I liked hurt me and broke my heart. He just comforted me and said everything would be okay. He gave me words of encouragement and helped me get over him. I was happy and thought of him as a real friend. But I knew that there was something else about him that I liked. I thought of it that night and figured it was just a friend kinda thing that I was feeling. All through high school and even through graduation we were always together and of course I thought of it as being friends. But I knew deep inside that I really felt differently.

On graduation night even though we had different dates to the prom I wanted to be with him. That night after everybody went home I went to his house and wanted to tell him that I wanted to see him. Well that night was my big chance and all I did was just sit there with him watching the stars and talking about what I was going to do and what he was going to do.

I looked into his eyes and listened to him talk about what his dream was. How he wanted to get married and settle down. He said how he wanted to be rich and successful. All I could do was to tell him my dream and cuddle next to him. I went home hurting because I didn't tell him how I was feeling. I wanted to tell him so bad that I loved him but I was too scared and frightened. I let my feelings go and told myself that someday I would tell him just how I felt. All through college I wanted to tell him but he always had someone with him. After graduation he got a job in New York, I was happy for him but at the same time I was sad to see him go.

I was sad also because I didn't tell him how I felt. But I couldn't let him know now that he was leaving for his big job. So I just kept it to myself and watched him go on the plane. I cried as I hugged him for what I felt was going to be the last time.

I went home that night and cried my eyes out. I felt hurt that I didn't tell him what I had inside my heart. Well, I got a job as a secretary and then worked my way to a computer analyst.

I was proud of what I had accomplished. One day I got a letter with an invitation to a marriage. It was from him, I was happy and sad at the same time. Now I know that I could never be with him and that we could only be friends.

I went to the wedding the next month. It was a big occasion. The big church wedding and the reception at the hotel. I met the bride and of course him. I fell in love one more time. But I held back so it wouldn't spoil what should be the happiest day in his life.

I tried to have fun that night but it was killing me inside watching him being so happy and me trying to be happy covering up my sadness tears inside of me. I left New York feeling that I did the right thing. Before I left on the flight, he came running out of nowhere and said his good-byes and how he was very happy to see me. I came home and just tried to forget about what went on in New York. I had to go on with my life. As the years went on we wrote to each other on what was going on and how he had missed talking to me. On one occasion he never wrote back to me at all. I was getting worried as to why he hadn't written anything for a long time after I had already written 6 letters to him.

Well, just when everything seemed hopeless and sad in my life, I got a note that said meet me at the fence where we used to talk about things. I went and saw him there. I was happy to see him, but he was broken hearted and sad inside. We hugged until we couldn't breathe anymore. Then he told me about the divorce and why he hadn't written for a long time.

He cried until he couldn't cry anymore. Finally, we went back to the house and talked and laughed about what I had been going and to catch up on old times. But in all of this I couldn't tell him how I felt about him. In the days that followed he had fun and forgot about all his problems and his divorce. I fell in love again with him. When it came time for him to leave back to New York, I went to see him off and cried. I hated to see him leave. He promised to see me every time he could get a vacation. I couldn't wait for him to come so I could be with him. We would always have fun when we were together.

One day he didn't show up like he said he would. I figured that he might have been busy. The days turned into months and I just forgot about it. Then I got a call one day from a lawyer in New York. The lawyer said that he had died in a car accident going to the airport. And that it took this long till everything was settled. It broke my heart. I was shocked about what took place. Now I knew why he didn't come that day. Again, I was broken hearted I cried that night, cried tears of sadness and heartache. Asking questions why did this happen to a kind guy like him? I gathered my things and went to New York for the reading of his will.

Of course, things were given to his family and his ex-wife. I finally got to meet her since the last time we met at the wedding. She explained to me how he was and how he always provided. But he was always unhappy. She would always try everything but she couldn't get him happy, as he was that night at their wedding. When the will was read, the one thing that was given to me was a diary.

It was a dairy that of his life. I cried as it was given to me. I didn't know what to think. Why was this given to me? I took it and flew back to California. As I flew on the plane I remembered the good times that we had together. I started reading the diary and what was written. The diary was started the day we first met. I read on till I started to cry. The diary told of him saying that he had fallen in love with me that day I was broken hearted. But he was too afraid to tell me what he had felt. That is why he was so quiet and liked to listen to me. It told of how he wanted to tell me so many times but was too afraid to say anything.

It told of when he went to New York and fell in love with another. How the happiest time he had was seeing me and dancing with me at the wedding. He said he imagined it was our wedding. How he was always unhappy till he had no choice but to divorce his wife. How the best time in his life was to read the letters written to him by me. Finally, the diary ended when it said "today I will tell her I love her". It was the day he was killed. The day I was going to finally find out what was really in his heart.

Mark

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.

The church was packed with Mark's friends. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk bythe coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosia


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Moonlight Ride

Jenny was so happy about the house they had found.
For once in her life 'twas on the right side of town.
She unpacked her things with such great ease.
As she watched her new curtains blow in the breeze.
How wonderful it was to have her own room.
School would be starting she'd have friends over soon.
There'd be sleep-overs, and parties; she was so happy.
It's just the way she wanted her life to be.
On the first day of school, everything went great.
She made new friends and even got a date!
She thought, "I want to be popular and I'm going to be,
Because I just got a date with the star of the team!"
To be known in this school you had to have a clout,
and dating this guy would sure help her out.
There was only one problem stopping her fate.
Her parents had said she was too young to date.
"Well, I just won't tell them the entire truth,
They won't know the difference; what's there to lose?"
Jenny asked to stay with her friends that night.
Her parents frowned but said, "All right."

Excited, she got ready for the big event.
But as she rushed around like she had no sense.
She began to feel guilty about all the lies,
But what's a pizza, a party, and a moonlight ride?
Well the pizza was good, and the party was great,
But the moonlight ride would have to wait.
For Jeff was half drunk by this time.
But he kissed her and said that he was just fine.
Then the room filled with smoke and Jeff took a puff.
Jenny couldn't believe he was smoking that stuff.

Now Jeff was ready to ride to the point.
But only after he'd smoke another joint.
They jumped in the car for the moonlight ride,
Not thinking that he was too drunk to drive.
They finally made it to the point at last,
And Jeff started trying to make a pass.
A pass is not what Jenny wanted at all
(and by a pass, I don't mean playing football).

"Perhaps my parents were right ... maybe I am too young.
Boy, how could I ever, ever be so dumb."
With all of her might, she pushed Jeff away:
"Please take me home, I don't want to stay."
Jeff cranked up the engine and floored the gas.
In a matter of seconds they were going too fast.
As Jeff drove on in a fit of wild anger,
Jenny knew that her life was in danger.

She begged and pleaded for him to slow down,
But he just got faster as they neared the town.
"Just let me get home! I'll confess that I lied.
I really went out for a moonlight ride."

Then all of a sudden, she saw a big flash.
"Oh God, Please help us! We're going to crash!"
She doesn't remember the force of impact.
Just that everything all of a sudden went black.
She felt someone remove her from the twisted rubble,
And heard, "Call an ambulance! These kids are in trouble!"

Voices she heard ... a few words at best.
But she knew there were two cars involved in the wreck.
Then wondered to herself if Jeff was all right,
And if the people in the other car were alive.

She awoke in the hospital to faces so sad.
"You've been in a wreck and it looks pretty bad."
These voices echoed inside her head,
As they gently told her that Jeff was dead.

They said "Jenny, we've done all we can do.
But it looks as if we'll lose you too."
"But the people in the other car!?" Jenny cried.
"We're sorry, Jenny, they also died."

Jenny prayed, "God, forgive me for what I've done
I only wanted to have just one night of fun."
"Tell those people's family, I've made their lives dim,
And wish I could return their families to them."

"Tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry I lied,
And that it's my fault so many have died.
Oh, nurse, won't you please tell them that for me?"
The nurse just stood there - she never agreed.
But took Jenny's hand with tears in her eyes
And a few moments later Jenny died.

A man asked the nurse,
"Why didn't you do your best.
To bid that girl her one last request?"
She looked at the man with eyes oh so sad.
"Because the people in the other car were her mom and dad."


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Blue Ribbon

A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniors in high school by telling them the difference they each made. Using a process developed by Helice Bridges of Del Mar, California, she called each student to the front of the class, one at a time. First she told them how the student 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 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 back 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 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 permisson 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 do me a favor? 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 wants 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'm a creative genius. Then he put this 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 really hectic and when I come home I don't 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, but 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 couldn't stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears, "I was planning on committing suicide tomorrow, Dad, because I didn't think you loved me. Now I don't need to."



http://www.goddesskali.com/soi/touching/

A Rich Man's Treasure

In Upstate New York years ago, there was a very wealthy man, who with is devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others adorned the walls of the family estate.
The widowed elder man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as he dealt with art collectors around the world.

As winter approached war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news; fearing he would never see this son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed, the young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.

Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, that he and his son had so looked forward to, would visit his house no longer.

On Christmas morning a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hands. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you."

As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his father's love of fine art. "I am an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son.

Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome by emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace. A few hours later after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of art.

His task completed, the old man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given. During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before the bullet stilled his caring heart.

As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

The following spring, the old man became ill and passes away. The art world was waiting in anticipation, that with the collector's passing and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the day he had received the greatest gift.

The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would claim, "I have the greatest collection."

The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent. "Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Minutes passed, and no one spoke. From the back of the room came a voice, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget about it and move on with the good stuff," more voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this on first," replied the auctioneer. "Now who will take the son?"

Finally, a neighbor of the old man spoke. "Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That's all I have. I knew the boy, so I'd like to have it." "I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice, gone." The gavel fell.

Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasurers!"

The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean, it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art here! I demand that you explain what is going on!"

The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple, according to the will of the father, whoever takes the son...gets it all."

Puts things into perspective doesn't it?

Just as those art collectors discovered on Christmas Day, the message is still the same. The love of a Father, whose greatest joy came from his Son who went away and gave his life rescuing others. And because of that Father's love... whoever takes the Son gets it all.


http://www.goddesskali.com/soi/touching/

Keep on Singing

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy. The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee.

Then The labor pains come. Every five minutes ... every minute. But complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inch by. The little girl gets worse.

The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby - now they plan a funeral.

Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says. Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care.

But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive. She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed.” The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"

Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray--- "

Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady. Keep on singing, Michael.

"You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away---"

The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.

Keep on singing, Michael.

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. Keep on singing, Michael. Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't, take my sunshine away."

Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day, the very next day, the little girl is well enough to go home!

Woman's Day magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love!

NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE.


http://www.goddesskali.com/soi/touching/

Is it Worth it?

Horror gripped the heart of the World War I soldier as he saw his lifelong friend fall in battle. Caught in a trench with continuous gunfire whizzing over his head, the soldier asked his lieutenant if he might go out into the "No Man's Land" between the trenches to bring his fallen comrade back.

"You can go," said the Lieutenant, "but I don't think it will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead and you may throw your own life away." The Lieutenant's words didn't matter, and the soldier went anyway.

Miraculously he managed to reach his friend, hoist him onto his shoulder, and bring him back to their company's trench. As the two of them tumbled in together to the bottom of the trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, then looked kindly at his friend. "I told you it wouldn't be worth it," he said. "Your friend is dead, and you are mortally wounded."

"It was worth it, though, sir," the soldier said.

"How do you mean, 'worth it'?" responded the Lieutenant. "Your friend is dead!"

"Yes sir," the private answered. "But it was worth it because when I got to him, he was still alive, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him say, 'Jim, I knew you'd come.'"

Many a times in life, whether a thing is worth doing or not really depends on how you look at it.

Take up all your courage and do something your heart tells you to do so that you may not regret not doing it later in life.


http://www.goddesskali.com/soi/touching/

Story

A woman came out of her house and saw 3 old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard... She did not recognise them... She said, "I don't think I know you, but you must be hungry... Please come in and have something to eat"...
"Is the man of the house home?" they asked. "No", she said. "He's out."

"Then we cannot come in," they replied.

In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.. Go tell them I am home and invite them in.

The woman went out and invited the men in.

"We don't go into a house together," they replied.

"Why is that?" she wanted to know.

One of the old men explained: "His name is Wealth," ...he said pointing to one of his friends...and said pointing to another one, "He is Success and I am Love".. Then he added, "Now go in and discus with your husband which one of us you want in your home."

The woman went in and told her husband what was said.

Her husband was overjoyed. "How nice", he said!!

"Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth."

His wife disagreed. "My dear, why don't we invite Success?"

Their daughter-in-law was listening from the other corner of the house.

She jumped in with her own suggestion: "Would it not be better to invite Love. Our home will be filled with love."

"Let us heed our daughter-in-law's advice," said the husband to his wife. "Go out and invite Love to be our guest."

The woman went out and asked the 3 old men, "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest."

Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other 2 also got up and followed him.

Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success: "I only invited Love, why are you coming in?"

The old men replied together: "If you had invited Wealth or Success the other two of us would've stayed out, but since you invited Love, wherever he goes we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also wealth and success!"



http://www.goddesskali.com/soi/touching/

Speeding Ticket

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. The flashing red in his rearview mirror insisted he pull over quickly, but Jack let the car coast.

Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?

When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

He slumped into his seat, the collar of his trench coat covering his ears. He tapped the steering wheel, doing his best to look bored, his eyes on the mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand.

Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little anxious to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.

Jack was tempted to leave the window shut long enough to gain the psychological edge but decided on a different tack. Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.

"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."

"Hello, Jack." (No smile)

"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."

"Yeah, I guess."

Bob seemed uncertain... good... "I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit-just this once."

Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.

"Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct."

Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics. "What'd you clock me at?"

"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"

"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

"Please, Jack, in the car."

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?

Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.

"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.

Bob returned to his car without a word.

Jack watched his retreat in the mirror, bottom teeth scratching his upper lip. When Bob vanished inside his car, jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? ome kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:

Dear Jack,

Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters. All three of them.

I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven before I can ever hug her again.

A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have left.

Bob

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his trench coat. Then he twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

By MANFRED KOEHLER

Two nickles and Five pennies

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.

"Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely.
The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.

There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.


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Today Is A Gift

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the worldoutside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm-in-arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the otherside of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

Onewarm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.

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Unlovely

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 a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home 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 mine and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."

"We're sorry to hear that, son. But, 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 to 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 do not 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.

http://www.goddesskali.com/soi/touching/

Language Of Love

There was this loving couple who known each other since young and they been together for a very long time. Their love was strong. One day the guy's parents had decided to sent him overseas to further his for a few years, the girl was very upset and she cried every nite. However, she knew that he has no go over no matter what she say. At the airport on that very day, before he left the girl hugged him and whisper into his ears and she told him that she would wait for him to come back she promised. Months have passed since he left and still they continue to exchange their love vows and pledge thru phone calls and emails everyday.

One day while the girl was crossing the road after work a drunken driver who was speeding knocked onto her. She was then conveyed by an ambulance admitted into the hospital, her condition was unconscious and she had fallen into a comma. The only thing that she could barely remember were the loud horn of the vehicle, the flashing of the headlights, the screeching sound and the impact of the accident as the vehicle hit onto her but the at that very moment her greatest fear was not death, she was thinking of the guy she fear she might not see him again.

After a few hours of being in comma the girl finally woke up to the crying sound of her parents who were sitting beside her in the hospital ward and her mum was holding on tightly to her hand. Seeing her parents both so sad she wanted to open her mouth and console them but to her shock and horror as she wanted to say something nothing came out from her mouth. No matter how hard she tried, but to no avail. That's when she burst out in tears and though she had not suffer any scars or major injury on her she has lost one thing that has cause her never to be the same person again ... her voice.

After she was discharged from hospital she returned home and cried everyday when she heard the phone ringing, it was the guy who was trying to call her. She wrote down in pen and paper told her parents and all her friends not to let the guy know about the accident and the handicap she's left to live with. All she can do is cry everytime she hear the phone ring and it hurt her heart. She then send the guy an email telling him that she would no longer be waiting for him anymore as she had met someone else someone better someone nicer than him and told him to take care with this she ended her painful letter. When the guy recieved this letter his heart was shattered he felt lost and cheated .. deeply hurt. Nevertheless, he kept calling and sending emails hoping for a reply. He was desperate and helpless. He didn't want to lose her but he had no other choice as he wasn't given one. Despite his endless calls and countless emails which was rejected and shun away by the girl's parents, he still loved her dearly and his mind was filled with memories of them when they were together.

Few years passed and one day the girl's best friend came up and told her that the guy has returned from his overseas studies. She just nodded because there was nothing she could do and she wanted the guy to find someone else someone better someone who has her voice and not someone like her although deep inside her heart she knew she had never stop loving him but she choose to suffer alone. The guy did not let the matter rest so easily despite being rejected and push away. He kept looking for all her friends those that he knew off and asked them what actually happened. After searching and probbing for so long finally he met the girl's best friend who finally told him about the accident and what exactly happened because she felt that the girl still had feelings for him and she did not want to she her friend suffer.

One year later the girl's best friend told her she wanted to passed her something and they met up. When the girl recieved the wedding invitation card from her friend to the guy's wedding she broke down in what seems like endless tears her heart was shattered. But as she opened and read the invitation she noticed that her name was in it and when she looked up and was about to asked her friend what this was all about she saw the guy standing infront of her and using sign language he said " Since I returned from overseas I spended one year learning sign language because I have not forgotten you and I want to be able to look after you for the rest of my life ... I love you !"

http://www.geocities.com/sktlangzhi/pg8.html

Special Delivery

Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the Surgeon come out of the operating room, saying:
"How is my little boy? Is he going to be O.K.? When can I see him?"
The surgeon responded, "I'm sorry, we did all we could."
Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer, doesn't GOD care any more? GOD, where were you when my son needed you?"
The surgeon softly told her, "One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes to let you spend time with your son's remains before it's transported to the university".

Sally asked that the nurse stay with her while she said good-bye to her son. As she ran her fingers through his thick red curly hair, the nurse said,
"Would you like a lock of his hair?"

Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of his hair and put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally. She gazed at her son’s body as she spoke to the nurse.

"It was Jimmy's idea to give his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else, and that is what he wanted. I said, no at first, but Jimmy said, ‘Mom I won't be using it after I die, maybe it will help some other little boy to be able to spend one more day with his mother’. My Jimmy had a heart of gold, always thinking of someone else and always wanting to help others if he could".

Sally walked out of the Children's Hospital for the last time now after spending most of the last 6 months there. She sat the bag with Jimmy's things in it on the seat beside of her in the car. The drive home was hard and it was even harder to go into an empty house. She took the bag to Jimmy's room and started placing the model cars and things back in his room exactly where he always kept them. She lay down across his bed and cried herself to sleep holding his pillow. Sally woke up about midnight and lying beside her on the bed, was a letter folded up. She opened the letter, it said:

Dear Mom,
I know you're going to miss me, but don't think that I will ever forget you or stop loving you because I'm not around to say I LOVE YOU. I'll think of you every day mom and I'll love you even more each day. Some day we will see each other again. If you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, he can have my room and my old stuff to play with. If you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things as us boys do, so you will have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like.

Don't be sad when you think about me, this is really a great place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything here.

The Angels are so friendly, and I love to watch them fly. Jesus doesn't look like any of the pictures I saw of Him, but I knew it was Him as soon as I saw Him. Jesus took me to see GOD! And guess what mom? I got to sit on GOD'S knee and talk to Him like I was somebody important. I told GOD that I wanted to write you a letter and tell you good-bye and everything, but I knew that wasn't allowed. God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter with. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel that is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him about... “Where was He when I needed him?”

God said, "The same place He was when Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.” Oh, by the way Mom, nobody else can see what is written on this paper but you. To everyone else, it looks like a blank piece of paper.

I have to give God His pen back now, He has some more names to write in the Book Of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great. I almost forgot to let you know - now I don't hurt anymore, the cancer is all gone. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me suffer the pain either, so He sent The Angel of Mercy to get me. The Angel said I was Special Delivery!

Signed with love from:
God & Jesus & Me


http://www.thinkingagain.com/stories.html

REGRETS

10th grade

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me.
She was my so called "best friend". I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before and handed them to her. She said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

11th grade

The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep.
She looked at me, said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Senior year

The day before prom she walked to my locker. "My date is sick" she said; he's not going to go well, I didn't have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as "best friends". So we did. Prom night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step! I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. I want her to be mine, but she isn't think of me like that, and I know it. Then she said "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.


Graduation Day

A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said, "you're my best friend, thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

A Few Years Later

Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. I watched her say "I do" and drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn`t see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said "you came!". She said "thanks" and kissed me on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Funeral

Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my "best friend". At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read:
I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn't notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love him but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me!
I wish I did too... I thought to my self, and I cried.
I Love You

http://www.lovefatedestiny.com/lovestories19.htm

Who You Love

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army
uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way
through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose
heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.
His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida
library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not
with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the
margin.The soft hand writing reflected a thoughtful soul and in
sightful mind.

In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name,
Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address.
She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing
himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped
overseas for service in World War II

During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each
other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart.
A Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she
refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she
looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe,
they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station
in New York.

"You'll recognize me, " she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on
my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose
heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young women was
coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair layback
in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers.Her lips
and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suitshe was like
springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to
notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, asmall,
provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?"
she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to
her,and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost
directly behind the girl. A women well past 40, she had graying
hair tuckedunder a worn hat. She was more than plump, her
thick-ankled feet thrustinto low-heeled shoes. The girl in the
green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split in
two, so keen was my desire to followher, and yet so deep
was my longing for the women whose spirit had truly companioned
me and upheld my own.

And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible,
her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My
fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was
something precious, something perhaps even better than love,
a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the
women, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness
of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you
must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may take
you to dinner?

"The women's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't
know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady
in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose
on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner,
I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big
restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!

"It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom.
The true nature of a heart is seen in it's response to the
unattractive."Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote,
"And I will tell you who you are."


http://emotiontoolkit.com/stories4.shtml

"I LOVE YOU"

I have a boyfriend who grew up with me. His name is Jin. I always thought of him as a friend until last year, when we went to a trip from a club. I found that I fell in love with him. Before that trip was over, I took a step and confessed my love for him. And soon, we became a pair of lovers, but we loved each other in different ways. I always concentrated on him only, but by his side, there were so many other girls. To me, he was the only one, but to him, maybe I was just another girl…

“Jin, do you want to go watch a movie?” I asked.
“I can’t”
“Why? You need to study at home?” I felt disappointment grabbing me.
“No… I am going to meet a friend…”

He was always like that. He met girls in front of me, like it was nothing. To him, I was just a girlfriend. The word ‘love’ only came out from my mouth. Since I knew him, I had never heard him say ‘I love you’ before. To us, there weren’t any anniversaries at all. He didn’t say anything from the first day and it continued till 100 days…200days… Everyday, before we say goodbye, he would just hand me a doll, everyday, without fail. I don’t know why…

Then one day…

Me: Um, Jin, I …
Jin: What…don’t drag, just say..
Me: I love you.
Jin: ……you….um, just take this doll and go home.
That was how he ignored my ‘three words’ and handed me the doll. Then he disappeared, like he was running away. The dolls I received from him everyday, filled my room, one by one. There were many…
Then one day came, my 15th year old birthday. When I got up in the morning, I pictured a party with him, and stranded myself in my room, waiting for his call. But… lunch passed, dinner passed… and soon the sky was dark… he still didn’t call. It was already tiring to look at the phone anymore. Then around 2am in the morning, he suddenly called me and woke me from my sleep. He told me to come out of the house. Still, I felt joy and I ran out happily.
Me: Jin…
Jin: Here…take this…
Again, he handed me a little doll.
Me: What’s this?
Jin: I didn’t give it to you yesterday, so I am giving it to you now. I’m going home now, bye.
Me: Wait, wait! Do you know what today is?
Jin: Today? Huh?
I felt so sad, I thought he would remember my birthday. He turned around and walked away like nothing had happen.Then I shouted… “Wait…”
Jin: You have something to say?
Me: Tell me, tell me you love me…
Jin: What?!
Me: Tell me
I put my pathetic self behind and clung on to him. But he just said simple cold words and left.
“I don’t want to say…that I love someone so easily, if you are desperate to hear it, then find someone else.”
That was what he said. Then he ran off. My legs felt numb… and I collapsed to the ground. He didn’t want to say it easily… How could he…. I felt that… Maybe he is not the right guy for me…
After that day, I stranded myself at home crying, just crying. He didn’t call me, although I was waiting. He just continued handing me a little doll every morning outside my house. That’s how those dolls piled up in my room… everyday
After a month, I got myself together and went to school. But what made the pain resurface was that… I saw him on a street… with another girl… He had a smile on his face, one that he never showed me…as he touched the doll… I ran straight back home and looked at the dolls in my room, and tears fell… Why did he gave these to me… Those dolls are probably picked out by some other girls…In a fit of anger, I threw the dolls around. Then suddenly, the phone rang. It was him. He told me to come out to the bus stop outside my house. I tried to calm myself down and walked to the bus stop. I kept reminding myself that I am going to forget him, that… it’s going to end. Then he came into my sight, holding a big doll.
Jin: Jo, I thought you were pissed, you really came?
I couldn’t help hating him, acting like nothing had happen and joking around. Soon, he held out the doll as usual…
Me: I don’t need it. Jin: What….why…
I grabbed the doll from his hands and threw it on the road.
Me: I don’t need this doll, I don’t need it anymore!! I don’t want to see a person like you again!
I spitted out all the words that were inside me. But unlike other days, his eyes very shaking.
“I’m sorry” He apologized in a tiny voice. He then walked over to the road to pick up the doll…
Me: You stupid! Why are you picking up the doll?! Just throw it away!!!

But he ignored me and just went to pick the doll. Then…

Honk~ Honk~
With a loud honk, a big truck was heading towards him.
“Jin! Move! Move away!” I shouted… But he didn’t hear me, he squatted down and picked up the doll.
“Jin, move!” HONK~!! “Boom!” That sound, so terrifying.
That’s how he went away from me. That’s how he went away without even opening his eyes to say one word to me.
After that day, I had to go through everyday with guiltiness and the sadness of losing him… And after spending two months like a crazy person… I took out the dolls.

Those were the only gifts he left me since the day we started going out. I remembered the days I spent with him and started to count the days… when we were in love…

“One…two… three…” That was how… I started to count the dolls…
“Four hundred and eighty four… four hundred and eighty five…” It all ended with 485 dolls.
I then started to cry again, with a doll in my arms. I hugged it tightly, then suddenly…

“I love you~, I love you~” I dropped the dolls,shocked.

“I….lo..ve…you??” I picked up the dolls and pressed its stomach.

“I love you~ I love you~” It can’t be! I pressed all the dolls’ stomach as it piled on the side.
“I love you~”
“I love you~”
“I love you~”
Those words came out non-stop. I…love you… Why didn’t I realize that….That his heart was always by my side, protecting me. Why didn’t I realize that he love me this much… I took out the doll under the bed and pressed it’s stomach, that was the last doll, the one that fell on the road. It had his blood stain on it. The voice came out, the on that I was missing so much…

“Jo…Do you know what today is? We’ve been loving each other for 486 days. Do you know what 486 is? I couldn’t say I love you…. Um… since I was too shy… If you forgive me and take this doll, I will say that I love you… everyday… till I die… Jo… I love you…”

http://www.lovefatedestiny.com/lovestories2.htm