Flying High

One windy spring day, I observed young people having fun using the wind to fly their kites. Multicolored creations of varying shapes and sizes filled the skies like beautiful birds darting and dancing. As the strong winds gusted against the kites, a string kept them in check.

Instead of blowing away with the wind, they arose against it to achieve great heights. They shook and pulled, but the restraining string and the cumbersome tail kept them in tow, facing upward and against the wind. As the kites struggled and trembled against the string, they seemed to say, "Let me go! Let me go! I want to be free!" They soared beautifully even as they fought the restriction of the string. Finally, one of the kites succeeded in breaking loose. "Free at last," it seemed to say. "Free to fly with the wind."

Yet freedom from restraint simply put it at the mercy of an unsympathetic breeze. It fluttered ungracefully to the ground and landed in a tangled mass of weeds and string against a dead bush. "Free at last" free to lie powerless in the dirt, to be blown helplessly along the ground, and to lodge lifeless against the first obstruction.

How much like kites we sometimes are. The Heaven gives us adversity and restrictions, rules to follow from which we can grow and gain strength. Restraint is a necessary counterpart to the winds of opposition. Some of us tug at the rules so hard that we never soar to reach the heights we might have obtained. We keep part of the commandment and never rise high enough to get our tails off the ground.

Let us each rise to the great heights, recognizing that some of the restraints that we may chafe under are actually the steadying force that helps us ascend and achieve.

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Life's Balance

Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air. You name them: work, family, health, friends, and spirit, and you're keeping all of them in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls--family, health, friends, and spirit are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.

How? Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others. It is because we are different that each of us is special. Don't set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you. Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would your life, for without them, life is meaningless. Don't le t life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time you live ALL the days of your life. Don't give up when you still havesomething to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying. Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us together. Don't be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances that we learn to be brave. Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings. Don't run thruogh life so fast that you forget not only where you've been, but also where you are going. Don't forget that a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated. Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved. Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way.

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I want to know

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, and if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, and if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being a human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, and if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see the beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from its presence.

I want to know if your can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon "Yes".

It doesn't interest me to know where you live, or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else fails away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

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Take the chance

Each spring brings a new blossom of wildflowers in the ditches along the highway I travel daily to work.

There is one particular blue flower that has always caught my eye. I've noticed that it blooms only in the morning hours, the afternoon sun is too warm for it. Every day for approximately two weeks, I see those beautiful flowers.

This spring, I started a wildflower garden in our yard. I can look out of the kitchen window while doing the dishes and see the flowers. I've often thought that those lovely blue flowers from the ditch would look great in that bed alongside other wildflowers.

Everyday I drove past the flowers thinking, "I'll stop on my way home and dig them." "Gee, I don't want to get my good clothes dirty..." Whatever the reason, I never stopped to dig them. My husband even gave me a folding shovel one year for my trunk to be used for that expressed purpose.

One day on my way home from work, I was saddened to see that the highway department had moved the ditches and the pretty blue flowers were gone. I thought to myself, "Way to go, you waited too long. You should have done it when you first saw them blooming this spring."

A week ago we were shocked and saddened to learn that my oldest sister-in-law has a terminal brain tumor. She is 20 years older than my husband and unfortunately, because of age and distance, we haven't been as close as we all would have liked.

I couldn't help but see the connection between the pretty blue flowers and the relationship between my husband's sister and us. I do believe that God has given us some time left to plant some wonderful memories that will bloom every year for us.

And yes, if I see the blue flowers again, you can bet I'll stop and transplant them to my wildflower garden.

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English Grammar Workbook For Dummies

English Grammar Workbook For Dummies

 

Author(s): Geraldine Woods
Publisher: For Dummies
Date     : 2006
Pages    : 320
Format   : PDF
OCR      : Yes
Language : English
ISBN-10  : 0764599321
Description: Get some good grammar practice - and start speaking and writing well!

 

Good grammar is important, whether you want to advance your career, boost your GPA, or increase your SAT or ACT score. Practice is the key to improving your grammar skills, and that's what this workbook is all about. Open it and you'll find hundreds of fun problems to help build your grammar muscles. Just turn to a topic you need help with - from punctuation and pronouns to possessives and parallel structure - and get out your pencil. With just a little practice every day, you'll be speaking correctly, writing confidently, and getting the recognition you deserve at work or at school.

 

100s of Problems!

 

* Review grammar rules and exceptions

* Build grammar skills, from sentence mechanics to stylistic fine points

* Convey your ideas clearly and persuasively

* Speak and write with flair and confidence

 

About the Author

Geraldine Woods began her education when teachers still supplied ink wells to their students. She credits her 35-year career as an English teacher to a set of ultra-strict nuns armed with thick grammar books. She lives in New York City, where with great difficulty she refrains from correcting signs containing messages such as "Bagel's for sale." She is the author of more than 40 books, including English Grammar For Dummies, Research Papers For Dummies, College Admission Essays For Dummies, and The SAT I Reasoning Test For Dummies.

 

Download:  http://rapidshare.com/files/93495731/English_Grammar.pdf

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Words From a Father

In the doorway of my home, I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Daniel, his backpack by his side. We were saying good-bye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. He would be staying there for at least a year to learn another language and experience life in a different country.

It was a transitional time in Daniel's life, a passage, a step from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment.

But nothing came from my lips. No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. Outside, I could hear the shrill cries of sea gulls as they circled the ever changing surf on Long Island. Inside, I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son.

What made it more difficult was that I knew this was not the first time I had let such a moment pass. When Daniel was five, I took him to the school-bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw colour flush his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me-as he did now.

What is it going to be like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I be okay? And then he walked up the steps of the bus and disappeared inside. And the bus drove away. And I had said nothing.

A decade or so later, a similar scene played itself out. With his mother, I drove him to William and Mary College in Virginia. His first night, he went out with his new schoolmates, and when he met us the next morning, he was sick. He was coming down with mononucleosis, but we could not know that then. We thought he had a hangover.

In his room, Dan lay stretched out on his bed as I started to leave for the trip home. I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life.

Again, words failed me. I mumbled something like, "Hope you feel better Dan." And I left.

Now, as I stood before him, I thought of those lost opportunities. How many times have we all let such moments pass? A boy graduates from school, a daughter gets married. We go through the motions of the ceremony, but we don't seek out our children and find a quiet moment to tell them what they have meant to us. Or what they might expect to face in the years ahead.

How fast the years had passed. Daniel was born in New Orleans, LA., in 1962, slow to walk and talk, and small of stature. He was the tiniest in his class, but he developed a warm, outgoing nature and was popular with his peers. He was coordinated and 6)agile, and he became adept in sports.

Baseball gave him his earliest challenge. He was an outstanding pitcher in Little League, and eventually, as a senior in high school, made the varsity, winning half the team's games with a record of five wins and two losses. At graduation, the coach named Daniel the team's most valuable player.

His finest hour, though, came at a school science fair. He entered an exhibit showing how the circulatory system works. It was primitive and crude, especially compared to the fancy, computerized, blinking-light models entered by other students. My wife, Sara, felt embarrassed for him.

It turned out that the other kids had not done their own work-their parents had made their exhibits. As the judges went on their rounds, they found that these other kids couldn't answer their questions. Daniel answered every one. When the judges awarded the Albert Einstein Plaque for the best exhibit, they gave it to him.

By the time Daniel left for college he stood six feet tall and weighed 170 pounds. He was muscular and in superb condition, but he never pitched another inning, having given up baseball for English literature. I was sorry that he would not develop his athletic talent, but proud that he had made such a mature decision.

One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn't take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.

Daniel thought about this. His friends said that he would be insane to put his career on hold. But he decided it wasn't so crazy. After graduation, he worked as a waiter at college, a bike messenger and a house painter. With the money he earned, he had enough to go to Paris.

The night before he was to leave, I tossed in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind. Maybe, I thought, it wasn't necessary to say anything.

What does it matter in the course of a life-time if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him? But as I stood before Daniel, I knew that it does matter. My father and I loved each other. Yet, I always regretted never hearing him put his feelings into words and never having the memory of that moment. Now, I could feel my palms sweat and my throat tighten. Why is it so hard to tell a son something from the heart? My mouth turned dry, and I knew I would be able to get out only a few words clearly.

"Daniel," I said, "if I could have picked, I would have picked you."

That's all I could say. I wasn't sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea.

He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn't understand what he was saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his girlfriend.

That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends. Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore, he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint Germain, strolling through a musty hallway of the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank café.

What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.

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Fluent English

 Fluent English: Perfect Natural Speech, Sharpen Your Grammar, Master Idioms, Speak Fluently free

 

Author(s): Living Language
Publisher: Living Language
Date     : 2005
Pages    : 232
Format   : PDF + CD's
OCR      : Y
ISBN-10  : 1400020883

Description: ESL (English as a Second Language) students who reach an intermediate level of English don’t need endless drills in grammar or tedious vocabulary lists; they need to learn how to make their English sound natural. Fluent English is the ideal course for developing native-like fluency in English. It focuses on the essentials—idiomatic expressions, phrasal verbs, practical vocabulary expansion, and grammar usage in context—and builds listening comprehension as well as pronunciation and intonation skills.

 

Students will find numerous opportunities to practice speaking, listening, writing, and reading English. They’ll also learn essential information about living and working in the United States. At $29.95, this affordable program—which comes complete with a 224-page textbook and three hours of recordings on three CDs—offers language learners the perfect opportunity to hone their language skills effectively and economically.

Download: http://rapidshare.com/files/93874333/Fluent_E.rar

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God and Father

When the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. And a female angel nearby said, "What kind of father is that? If you're going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won't be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping."

And God smiled and said, "Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?"

And when God made a father' hands, they were large and sinewy.

And the angel shook her head sadly and said, "Do You know what You're doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can't manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats."

God smiled and said, "I know, but they're large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day, and get small enough to cup a child's face."

Then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.

The angel nearly had a heart attack. "Boy, this is the end of the week, all right," she clucked. "Do You realize You just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?"

God smiled and said, "A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus."

God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. "That' not fair. Do You honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?"

And God smiled and said, "They'll work. You'll see. They'll support a small child who wants to "ride a horse to Banbury Cross" or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill."

God worked throughout the night, giving the father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that see everything, but remain calm and tolerant.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said, "Now are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?"

And the angel shutteth up!

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All you remember

All you remember about your child being an infant is the incredible awe you felt about the precious miracle you created. You remember having plenty of time to bestow all your wisdom and knowledge. You thought your child would take all of your advice and make fewer mistakes, and be much smarter than you were. You wished for your child to hurry and grow up.

All you remember about your child being two is never using the restroom alone or getting to watch a movie without talking animals. You recall afternoons talking on the phone while crouching in the bedroom closet, and being convinced your child would be the first Ivy League1 college student to graduate wearing pullovers at the ceremony. You remember worrying about the bag of M＆M's melting in your pocket and ruining your good dress. You wished for your child to be more independent.

All you remember about your child being five is the first day of school and finally having the house to yourself. You remember joining the PTA and being elected president when you left a meeting to use the restroom. You remember being asked "Is Santa real?" and saying "yes" because he had to be for a little bit longer. You remember shaking the sofa cushions for loose change, so the toothfairy could come and take away your child's first lost tooth. You wished for your child to have all permanent teeth.

All you remember about your child being seven is the carpool schedule. You learned to apply makeup in two minutes and brush your teeth in the rearview mirror because the only time you had to yourself was when you were stopped at red lights. You considered painting your car yellow and posting a "taxi" sign on the lawn next to the garage door. You remember people staring at you, the few times you were out of the car, because you kept flexing your foot and making acceleration noises. You wished for the day your child would learn how to drive.

All you remember about your child being ten is managing the school fund�raisers. You sold wrapping paper for paint, T shirts for new furniture, and magazine subscriptions for shade trees in the school playground. You remember storing a hundred cases of candy bars in the garage to sell so the school band could get new uniforms, and how they melted together on an unseasonably5 warm spring afternoon. You wished your child would grow out of playing an instrument.

All you remember about your child being twelve is sitting in the stands during baseball practice and hoping your child's team would strike out fast because you had more important things to do at home. The coach didn't understand how busy you were. You wished the baseball season would be over soon.

All you remember about your child being fourteen is being asked not to stop the car in front of the school in the morning. You had to drive two blocks further and unlock the doors without coming to a complete stop. You remember not getting to kiss your child goodbye or talking to him in front of his friends. You wished your child would be more mature.

All you remember about your child being sixteen is loud music and undecipherable lyrics screamed to a rhythmic beat. You wished for your child to grow up and leave home with the stereo.

All you remember about your child being eighteen is the day they were born and having all the time in the world.

And, as you walk through your quiet house, you wonder where they went and you wish your child hadn't grown up so fast.

 

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I love you, Mum and Dad!

Tears goes out of my eyes when I talk to my parents on the phone. What are they doing when I call them, this is what I   want to know most. I had supper at 5 o'clock in the dining room. There is no need for me to cook by myself, no need to wash the dishes. However, now it is the busiest time for my parents. Dad has night shift every day, he works from seven o'clock  in the morning to nine o'clock in the evening. Therefore, all the housework is left to my mum, besides her own job, she also has to work the vineyard.

 

Every day she gets up at 4 o'clock in the morning, then works till dark. One day I called her at 7:30 in the evening, she told me that she was still in the vineyard and hadn't had supper yet. My tears ran down from my cheeks, I was filled with worry. I promise her to study hard in the university, because I am her hope. I promise her to take care of myself, because I am important to her. I promise her to lose weight because she says nice figure is an important factor in future's competition. I promise her so much and I just want her to promise me that she can take care of herself and dad because they are just like the blood in my body.I cannot live without them.

 

In my family, everyone is common. We are willing to earn our living by our own hands. We are very happy to have the meal together on the New Year's Eve. My mother has ever said that everyone in the family is important, no one can be absent.

 

Mum has ever said that the happiest time for Dad and her is when my sister and I come back home.

 

We play cards in the room,watch TV,do anything we like,with dad and mum preparing delicious food in the kitchen.It is also the happiest time for me.

 

At that moment,I could forget all the difficulties and unhappiness.The only thing I would like to do is to enjoy the time with my parents.

 

Love,sometimes,doesn't need much words.Love your parents like they love us.Give them a call,tell them you miss them...

 

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Writing Better English for ESL learners

Writing Better English for ESL learners

Second Edition

Author(s): Ed Swick
Publisher: McGraw-Hill
Date: 2009
Pages: 256
Format: PDF
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0071628037
Description: Taking a developmental approach to improving writing skills, Writing Better English helps you increase your levels of proficiency in both grammar and vocabulary. Before tackling sentence structures, the book helps you reinforce those grammar elements you may have trouble with, like verb tenses and pronouns. You'll then expand your written communication abilities through comprehensive explanations, skill-building exercises, and practical writing activities.

Download: http://uploading.com/files/cbe586mm/0071628037english.rar/

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Get and lose

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less common sense; more knowledge, but less judgement; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

 

We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get to angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too often, and pray too seldom.

 

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too little and lie too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.

 

We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.

 

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We've conquered outer space, but not inner space. We've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less.

 

We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes, but lower morals. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies, but have less communication. We are long on quantity, but short on quality.

 

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men and short character; steep profits and shallow relationships. More leisure and less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition; two incomes, but more divorce; fancier houses, but broken homes.

 

 

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Twenty Rules for Happy Life 快乐人生之二十个法则

1. Compliment three people every day.
每天赞美三个人。

2. Watch a sunrise.
看日出。

3. Be the first to say "Hello."
先向别人打招呼。

4. Live beneath your means.
靠自己的力量生活。

5. Treat everyone as you want to be treated.
像自己希望得到的善待一样善待他人。

6. Never give up on anybody; miracles happen.
不要放弃任何人；奇迹总会发生。

7. Remember someone's name.
记住每个人的名字。

8. Pray not for things, but for wisdom and courage.
不要祈求得到什么东西，但可以祈求智慧和勇气。

9. Be tough-minded, but tender hearted.
意志要坚强，但心地要善良。

10. Be kinder than you have to be.
仁慈，再仁慈一点。

11. Don't forget that a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.
不要忘记一个人最伟大的情感需要是得到别人的欣赏。

12. Keep your promises.
履行自己的诺言。

13. Show cheerfulness even when you don't feel it.
即使没有快乐的感觉，也要努力表现出来。

14. Remember that overnight success usually takes 15 years.
切记所谓的"一夜成名"通常需要付出"15年的努力"。

15. Leave everything better than you found it.
让一切变得更加美好。

16. Remember that winners do what losers don't want to do.
切记胜利者通常会做失败者不想做的事情。

17. When you arrive at your job in the morning, let the first thing you say brighten everyone's day.
早上到办公室时，先说一件能让每个人在一天中感到愉快的事。

18. Don't rain on other people's parades.
看到别人的辉煌时，不要抱怨。

19. Don't waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them.
抓住一切机会对别人说"我爱你"。

20. Keep some things to yourself and don't promote havoc by hurting people you love.
自己承受一些事情，不要让所爱的人受伤害。

We all laugh. We all hurt. We all make mistakes. We all dream. That's life. It's a journey. Please follow these rules to make the journey of your life a journey of joy!

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Living life over

如果有来生，我会少说，多听；我会请朋友来家里吃饭，即使把地毯弄脏；如果有来生，我会点燃那支雕成玫瑰状的蜡烛，不让它在尘封中融化；我会与孩子们坐在草地上，不去担心草地上的污渍……如果有来生，我会说更多的"我爱你"……"对不起"……然而，最重要的是，如果有来生，我会抓住每一秒……看人生，读人生……体验人生……再也不放手。

 

If I had my life to live over...I would have talked less and listened more.

 

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was strained and the sofa faded.

 

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

 

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

 

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

 

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

 

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television - and more while watching life.

 

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding patter if I were not there for the day.

 

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, would not show soil or was guaranteed to last a life time.

 

There would have been more "I love yous" ... more "I'm sorrys"... but mostly, given another shots at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.

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Love without measure

Freda Bright says, "Only in opera do people die of love." It's true. You really can't love somebody to death. I've known people to die from no love, but I've never known anyone to be loved to death. We just can't love one another enough.

A heart-warming story tells of a woman who finally decided to ask her boss for a raise in salary. All day she felt nervous and apprehensive. Late in the afternoon she summoned the courage to approach her employer. To her delight, the boss agreed to a raise.

The woman arrived home that evening to a beautiful table set with their best dishes. Candles were softly glowing. Her husband had come home early and prepared a festive meal. She wondered if someone from the office had tipped him off, or... did he just somehow know that she would not get turned down?

She found him in the kitchen and told him the good news. They embraced and kissed, then sat down to the wonderful meal. Next to her plate the woman found a beautifully lettered note. It read, "Congratulations, darling! I knew you'd get the raise! These things will tell you how much I love you."

Following the supper, her husband went into the kitchen to clean up. She noticed that a second card had fallen from his pocket. Picking it off the floor, she read, "Don't worry about not getting the raise! You deserve it anyway! These things will tell you how much I love you."

Someone has said that the measure of love is when you love without measure. What this man feels for his spouse is total acceptance and love, whether she succeeds or fails. His love celebrates her victories and soothes her wounds. He stands with her, no matter what life throws in their direction.

Upon receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, Mother Teresa said, "What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family." And love your friends. Love them without measure.

 

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Cost of Love

One night when my wife was preparing dinner, our little son took a piece of paper to her which read:

For washing the car....................................................$5.00
For making my own bed this week..............................$1.00
Going to the provision shop........................................$0.50
Playing with little sister................................................$0.25
Taking out the rubbish................................................$1.00
Getting a good report card..........................................$5.00
And for sweeping the common corridor..................$2.00

Total.................................................$14.75

His mother looked at him standing there expecting payment. I could see a thousand memories flashed through her mind. So she picked up the pen and turning the paper over, this is what she wrote:

For 9 months I carried you, growing insideme.............................No Charge
For the nights I sat up with you, doctored and prayed for you.....No Charge
For the toys, food and clothes and wiping your nose...................No Charge
When you add it all up, the full cost of my love............................No Charge

Well, when he finished reading, he had great big tears in his eyes. He looked at his mother and said, "Mummy, I love you." Then he took the pen and in great big letters wrote on the "bill" "All paid."

 

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Plant a Row for the Hungry

It was a cold night in Washington, D.C., and I was heading back to the hotel when a man approached me. He asked if I would give him some money so he could get something to eat. I'd read the signs: "Don't give money to panhandlers." So I shook my head and kept walking.

 

I wasn't prepared for a reply, but with resignation, he said, "I really am homeless and I really am hungry! You can come with me and watch me eat!" But I kept on walking.

 

The incident bothered me for the rest of the week. I had money in my pocket and it wouldn't have killed me to hand over a buck or two even if he had been lying. On a frigid, cold night, no less, I assumed the worst of a fellow human being.

 

Flying back to Anchorage, I couldn't help thinking of him. I tried to rationalize my failure to help by assuming government agencies, churches and charities were there to feed him. Besides, you're not supposed to give money to panhandlers.

 

Somewhere over Seattle, I started to write my weekly garden column for The Anchorage Daily News. Out of the blue, I came up with an idea. Bean's Cafe, the soup kitchen in Anchorage, feeds hundreds of hungry Alaskans every day. Why not try to get all my readers to plant one row in their gardens dedicated to Bean's? Dedicate a row and take it down to Bean's. Clean and simple.

 

We didn't keep records back then, but the idea began to take off. Folks would fax me or call when they took something in. Those who only grew flowers donated them. Food for the spirit. And salve for my conscience.

 

In 1995, the Garden Writers Association of America held their annual convention in Anchorage and after learning of Anchorage's program, Plant a Row for Bean's became Plant a Row For The Hungry. The original idea was to have every member of the Garden Writers Association of America write or talk about planting a row for the hungry sometime during the month of April.

 

As more and more people started working with the Plant a Row concept, new variations cropped up, if you will pardon the pun. Many companies gave free seed to customers and displayed the logo, which also appeared in national gardening publications.

 

Row markers with the Plant a Row logo were distributed to gardeners to set apart their "Row for the Hungry."

 

Garden editor Joan Jackson, backed by The San Jose Mercury News and California's nearly year-round growing season, raised more than 30,000 pounds of fruits and vegetables her first year, and showed GWAA how the program could really work.

 

Texas fruit farms donated food to their local food bank after being inspired by Plant a Row. Today the program continues to thrive and grow.

 

I am stunned that millions of Americans are threatened by hunger. If every gardener in America - and we're seventy million strong - plants one row for the hungry, we can make quite a dent in the number of neighbors who don't have enough to eat. Maybe then I will stop feeling guilty about abandoning a hungry man I could have helped.

 

 

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Paint Your Masterpiece!

Consider… YOU. In all time before now and in all time to come, there has never been and will never be anyone just like you. You are unique in the entire history and future of the universe. Wow! Stop and think about that. You're better than one in a million, or a billion, or a gazillion…
　　
You are the only one like you in a sea of infinity!
　　
You're amazing! You're awesome! And by the way, TAG, you're it. As amazing and awesome as you already are, you can be even more so. Beautiful young people are the whimsey of nature, but beautiful old people are true works of art. But you don't become "beautiful" just by virtue of the aging process.
　　
Real beauty comes from learning, growing, and loving in the ways of life. That is the Art of Life. You can learn slowly, and sometimes painfully, by just waiting for life to happen to you. Or you can choose to accelerate your growth and intentionally devour life and all it offers. You are the artist that paints your future with the brush of today.
　　
Paint a Masterpiece.
　　
God gives every bird its food, but he doesn't throw it into its nest. Wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do, it's truly up to you.

 

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Happiness is a journey

We always convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, than another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. we will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage.

We always tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together. when we get a nice car, and are able to go on a nice vocation when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time than right now. If not now, when? our life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to ourselves and decide to be happy anyway.

One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred Souza. He said."for a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin-real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, someting to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid.

Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So treasure every moment that you have.

And remember that time waits for no one. So stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school; until you get married, until you get divorced; until you have kids; until you retire; until you get a new car or home; until spring; until you are born again to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy….

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.So, work like you don't need money, love like you've never been hurt, And dance like no one's watching.

 

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Enthusiasm takes you further

Years ago, when I started looking for my first job, wise advisers urged, "Barbara, be enthusiastic! Enthusiasm will take you further than any amount of experience."

How right they were. Enthusiastic people can turn a boring drive into an adventure, extra work into opportunity and strangers into friends.

"Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson. It is the paste that helps you hang in there when the going gets tough. It is the inner voice that whispers, "I can do it!" when others shout, "No, you can't."

It took years and years for the early work of Barbara McClintock, a geneticist who won the 1983 Nobel Prize in medicine, to be generally accepted. Yet she didn't let up on her experiments. Work was such a deep pleasure for her that she never thought of stopping.

We are all born with wide-eyed, enthusiastic wonder as anyone knows who has ever seen an infant's delight at the jingle of keys or the scurrying of a beetle.

It is this childlike wonder that gives enthusiastic people such a youthful air, whatever their age.

At 90, cellist Pablo Casals would start his day by playing Bach. As the music flowed through his fingers, his stooped shoulders would straighten and joy would reappear in his eyes. Music, for Casals, was an elixir that made life a never ending adventure. As author and poet Samuel Ullman once wrote, "Years wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul."

How do you rediscover the enthusiasm of your childhood? The answer, I believe, lies in the word itself. "Enthusiasm" comes from the Greek and means "God within." And what is God within is but an abiding sense of love -- proper love of self (self-acceptance) and, from that, love of others.

Enthusiastic people also love what they do, regardless of money or title or power. If we cannot do what we love as a full-time career, we can as a part-time avocation, like the head of state who paints, the nun who runs marathons, the executive who handcrafts furniture.

Elizabeth Layton of Wellsville, Kan, was 68 before she began to draw. This activity ended bouts of depression that had plagued her for at least 30 years, and the quality of her work led one critic to say, "I am tempted to call Layton a genius." Elizabeth has rediscovered her enthusiasm.

We can't afford to waste tears on "might-have-beens." We need to turn the tears into sweat as we go after "what-can-be."

We need to live each moment wholeheartedly, with all our senses -- finding pleasure in the fragrance of a back-yard garden, the crayoned picture of a six-year-old, the enchanting beauty of a rainbow. It is such enthusiastic love of life that puts a sparkle in our eyes, a lilt in our steps and smooths the wrinkles from our souls.

 

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A Glass of Milk

One day, a poor boy who was trying to pay his way through school by selling goods door to door found that he only had one dime left. He was hungry so he decided to beg for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked, "How much do I owe you?" "You don't owe me anything," she replied. "Mother has taught me never to accept pay for a kindness." He said, "Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart." As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but it also increased his faith in God and the human race. He was about to give up and quit before this point. Years later the young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where specialists can be called in to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly, now famous was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately, he rose and went down through the hospital hall into her room. Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room and determined to do his best to save her life. From that day on, he gave special attention to her case. After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it and then wrote something on the side. The bill was sent to her room. She was afraid to open it because she was positive that it would take the rest of her life to pay it off. Finally she looked, and the note on the side of the bill caught her attention. She read these words... "Paid in full with a glass of milk." (Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she prayed silently: "Thank You, God. Your love has spread through human hearts and hands."

 

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Mother, How Are You Doing Up There In Zion?

By Han Tian

The leaves were once again falling; autumn was once again with us. This morning I had received a phone call from a friend inviting me to a small party at her home, which I was delighted and happy to accept.

As soon as I stepped into my friend's garden, my eyes were instantly attracted by the geraniums and the chrysanthemums which were in full bloom. The fragrance from these flowers filled the air and reminded me immediately of my parent's garden in the past. I felt a lump in my throat as the sorrows went through my mind; my tears gathered and flowed down my face. The chrysanthemums made me think of my mother who had passed away only last autumn. I looked up to the sky because I knew she was now living in Zion, in the seventh heaven.

My mind floated back in memory. My mother had been a very hard working, industrious and thrifty woman with strong Chinese traditional virtues. We were a family of nine people-----a large one with my parents, grandpa and grandma and us five children, three sons, two daughters. I was the youngest daughter born in the 1960's.

Those years were bad years with most Chinese families suffering from the famine and other disasters. We as a family were one of those who experienced those hard times. We barely existed on father's meagre wages and mother's struggling income. Mother had a very hard job----dragging the river for sand grain, which she sold to the boss of a building site. Mother shared a big family burden with father trying to survive during those bad days.

I still have memories of mother getting up early in the morning before the break of dawn, tiptoeing out of the house with her tools trying not to disturb anybody. Although I was a little girl at the time, I understood in my mind that mother was heading for the river, which was in the vicinity of our house. She would stand in the river and scoop up scanty amounts of sand from the riverbed and then carry the heavy wet sand to the bank with a basket on her back and struggle by crawling towards on all fours. Her clothes would be dripping and drenched with sweat and the water seeping through the basket. During winter, whenever she came back home from the river, I would find her soaked through and trembling with the cold chill penetrating her body. Mother would accumulate the river sand into a large heap drying in the open and then riddle with a screen before selling to the building boss. No matter how hard she worked, our family could barely make ends meet.

I would always look forward to the day when mother would be selling the sand each month because she would always bring us children dainty bits such as konfyts, boiled peanuts, fried peas or broad beans from market after doing her business with the boss man. These eating stuffs look common nowadays to boys and girls, but for me during those bad times they were a big treat.

I remember sitting on the threshold at the gate, waiting for mother with my brothers and sister. I would rest my head on my hands, keeping my eyes on the road leading to the market. River sand holds a special token for me with both sadness and happiness, which has made a deep impression on me from my childhood.

Mother worked hard, as did so many, during those years. She lived a spare life-style, making many sacrifices and being rigorous with herself. She would never spend one cent if she considered it unnecessary. I remember very clearly during the year I started middle school, my farther brought home a fine piece of costume material because he was concerned that mother always wore patched clothes. Mother was unhappy with him for going to that expense and kept complaining to him about being wasteful with the money. Many years later after her death my sister and I were going through her belongings which she had kept in a large wooden case. I was shocked to find that piece of costume material at the bottom of the case being still intact. I held it in my hands and burst out crying: "Mother, my dearest mother, I was only 13 when I started middle school and now I'm 41 years old. It had been 28 years. Why did you always care for all us children but never yourself?"

I was working at my office when my sister phoned 500 kilometres away from the hospital to tell me that mother was seriously ill. I suddenly went dumb and dizzy and felt as if the sky had fallen in on me. We spent some time talking about mother and her condition, when I put the receiver down picking up my belongings and decided to head for the bus station. I only had one desire that was to see my mother in person as soon as possible.

I travelled all night and arrived at the hospital early in the morning. My heart was pounding with fear and anxiety, and I raced to the ward where I knew she was confined in. I rushed into the room and took a look at my sister's face and knew it was not good. Mother just laid there with her eyes closed. It was clear this was her last day----her breathing was heavy and it was clear that she was being tortured by the cancer. I was now out of control my tears were running down like a rushing river. "Mama, Mama, please don't leave us!" I murmured to her.

My sister put her arms around me as I tried to arouse mama from her coma. Her eyelids quivered slightly enough to tell me she had heard my voice her youngest daughter. It was clear she had a deathbed wish to see me one more time. My sister and I held each other with our heads on each other's shoulders sobbing out of control. We both knew she was now on the road to Zion and with all our crying and the shedding of tears nothing could stop mama's journey. That happened one morning last winter when mother gave up her life and peacefully went to sleep after many years of toiling never ever complaining, and always had a smile----she would always say: "Tomorrow will be a better day".

I smelt the fragrance of those flowers in my friend's garden and then my mother's face appeared. Just like a burning candle, mother always brightened those cold winter nights for us. We were five children she had bred and worked so hard that all of us could graduate from universities and then saw us grow up and flew away from the family nest to establish our own lives, leaving the couple of decrepit swallows alone in the old nest. What hurtful to all five of us was her passing away so early-----denying us the wish to be able to pay back all those sacrifices she had made by allowing us to take care of her now that we were so capable of doing. In the past, I was seldom back home to see and accompany her, as I was busy with working. I thought I might have more chances to stay with her someday in the future when I had holidays. However, I now realize the chance to make up for that big loss has disappeared. It is too late to retrieve anything. Whenever I think about it, I always condemn myself with shame and regret!

It was the year when mother had taken her journey that the chrysanthemums in our old garden, which she had planted herself, were in such luxuriant bloom. I mixed the white petals with mother's cremains and then walked over to the mountain slope at the back of our garden then scattered them into the breeze. I now know for sure that mother will hear our laughing and talking when we are staying at home with father---she will smile and be happy that we care.

It will be Mid-Autumn Festival again tomorrow (15th day of the 8th lunar month, one of the important Chinese traditional days for family members to reunite). It will be the first Mid-Autumn Festival after mother left. I'm going to see my father after the party and all my brothers and sister will be home too. However, mother is now absent forever. When I'm thinking of her, I get depressed and sorrowful with tears in my eyes.

The mum flowers in our old garden would be in full bloom again this autumn. I quietly said to her in my mind: "Mother, can you smell the fragrance there from beyond? Do you know how much I miss you? How are you doing up there in Zion?"

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Who gave me the ears?

"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked.

When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.

Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.

He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."

He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music.

"But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.

The boy's father had a session with the family physician... "Could nothing be done?"

"I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided. Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.

Two years went by. One day, his father said to the son, "You're going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret."

The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.

Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. One day, he asked his father, "Who gave me the ears? Who gave me so much? I could never do enough for him or her."

"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know...not yet."

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come. One of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish brown hair to reveal the mother had no outer ears.

"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," his father whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"

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everyday is a beginning

"We are reading the first verse of the first chapter of a book whose pages are infinite---"

I do not know who wrote those words, but I have always liked them as a reminder that the future can be anything we want to make it. We can take the mysterious, hazy future and carve out of it anything that we can imagine, just like a sculptor carves a statue from a shapeless stone.

We are all in the position of the farmer. If we plant a good seed, we reap a good harvest. If our seed is poor and full of weeds, we reap a useless crop. If we plant nothing at all, we harvest nothing at all.

I want the future to be better than the past. I don't want it contaminated by the mistakes and errors with which history is filled. We should all be concerned about the future because that is where we will spend the reminder of our lives.

The past is gone and static. Nothing we can do will change it. The future is before us and dynamic. Everything we do will effect it. Each day will brings with it new frontiers, in our homes and in our businesses, if we will only recognize them. We are just at the beginning of the progress in every field of human endeavor.

 

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Follow your heart!

I have a friend named Monty Roberts who owns a horse ranch in San Sedro. He has let me use his house to put on fund-raising events to raise money for youth at risk programs.

The last time I was there he introduced me by saying, "I want to tell you why I let Jack use my house. It all goes back to a story about a young man who was the son of an itinerant horse trainer who would go from farm and ranch-to-ranch, training horses. As a result, the boy's high school career was asked to write a paper about what he wanted to be and do when he grew up.

"That night he wrote a seven-page paper describing his goal of someday owning a horse ranch. He wrote about his dream in great detail and he even drew a diagram of a 200-acre ranch, showing the location of all the buildings, the stables and the track. Then he drew a detailed floor plan for a 4,000-square-foot house that would sit on the 200-acre dream ranch.

"He put a great deal of his heart into the project and the next day he handed it in to his teacher. Two days later he received his paper back. On the front page was a large red F with a note that read, 'See me after class.'

"The boy with the dream went to see the teacher after class and asked, 'Why did I receive an F?'

"The teacher said, 'this is an unrealistic dream for a young boy like you. You have no money. You come from an itinerant family. You have no resources. Owning a horse ranch requires a lot of money.

You have to buy the land. You have to pay for the original breeding stock and later you'll have to pay large stud fees. There's no way you could ever do it.' Then the teacher added, 'If you will rewrite this paper with a more realistic goal, I will rewrite this paper with a more realistic goal, I will reconsider your grade.'

"The boy went home and thought about it long and hard. He asked his father what he should do. His father said, 'Look, son, you have to make up your own mind on this. However, I think it is a very important decision for you.'

"Finally, after sitting with it for a week, the boy turned in the same paper, making no changes at all. He stated, 'You can keep the F and I'll keep my dream.'"

Monty then turned to the assembled group and said, "I tell you this story because you are sitting in my 4,000-square-foot house in the middle of my 200-acre horse ranch. I still have that school paper framed over the fireplace." He added, "The best part of the story is that two summers ago that same school-teacher brought 30 kids to camp out on my ranch for a week."

When the teacher was leaving, he said, 'Look, Monty, I can tell you this now. When I was your teacher, I was something of a dream stealer. During those years I stole a lot of kids' dreams. Fortunately you had enough gumption not to give up on yours.'"

Don't let anyone steal your dreams. Follow your heart, no matter what.

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Time spent in a bookshop

 

Time spent in a bookshop can be most enjoyable, whether you are a book-lover or merely you are there to buy a book as a present. You may even have entered the shop just to find shelter from a sudden shower. Whatever the reason, you can soon become totally unaware of your surroundings.

The desire to pick up a book with an attractive dust jacket is irresistible, although this method of selection ought not to be followed, as you might end up with a rather dull book.

You soon become engrossed in some book or other, and usually it is only much later that you realize you have spent far too much time there and must dash off to keep some forgotten appointment --without buying a book, of course.

This opportunity to escape the realities of everyday life is, I think , the main attraction of a bookshop. There are not many places where it is possible to do this. You can wander round such places to your heart's content. If it is a good shop, no assistant to you with inevitable greeting, "Can I help you, sir?" You finished browsing.

Then, and only then, are his services necessary. Of course you may want to find out where a particular section is, but when he has led you there, the assistant should retire carefully and look as if he is not interested in selling a single book.

You have to be careful not to be attracted by the variety of books in a bookshop. It is very easy to enter the shop looking for a book on ancient coins and to come out carrying a copy of the latest best-selling novel. This sort of thing can be very dangerous. Apart from running up a huge account, you can waste great deal of time wandering from section to section.

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