�Who Says You Can�t Teach an Old Dog a New Trick or Two�

“Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.

It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn’t been enough money to buy me the rifle that I’d wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.

After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn’t in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn’t get the Bible; instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn’t figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn’t worry about it long though; I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. “Come on, Matt,” he said. “Bundle up good, it’s cold out tonight.” I was really upset then. Not only wasn’t I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We’d already done all the chores, and I couldn’t think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one’s feet when he’d told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn’t know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn’t going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him.

The cold was already biting at me. I wasn’t happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. “I think we’ll put on the high sideboards,” he said. “Here, help me.” The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.

After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood – the wood I’d spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. “Pa,” I asked, “what are you doing?” “You been by the Widow Jensen’s lately?” he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I’d been by, but so what?

Yeah,” I said, “Why?”

“I rode by just today,” Pa said. “Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They’re out of wood, Matt.” That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. “What’s in the little sack?” I asked. Shoes, they’re out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without a little candy.”

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen’s pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn’t have much by worldly standards.

Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn’t have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn’t have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, and then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, “Who is it?” “Lucas Miles, Ma’am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?” Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

“We brought you a few things, Ma’am,” Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children -sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn’t come out.

“We brought a load of wood too, Ma’am,” Pa said. He turned to me and said, “Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let’s get that fire up to size and heat this place up.” I wasn’t the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn’t speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I’d never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone’s spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn’t crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. “God bless you,” she said. “I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us.”

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I’d never thought of Pain those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen’s face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn’t want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, “The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We’ll be by to get you about eleven. It’ll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn’t been little for quite a spell.” I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.

Widow Jensen nodded and said, “Thank you, Brother Miles. I don’t have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will.”

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn’t even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, “Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and I have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn’t have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand.”

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen’s face and the radiant smiles of her three children.

For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.”

A man named Bob May, depressed and broken-hearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling December night.

His 4-year-old daughter Barbara sat on his lap quietly sobbing. Bobs wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer.

Little Barbara couldn’t understand why her mommy could never come home. Barbara looked up into her dad’s eyes and asked, “Why isn’t Mommy just like everybody else’s Mommy?” Bob’s jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears.

Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger. It had been the story of Bob’s life. Life always had to be different for Bob. Small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys. He was too little at the time to compete in sports. He was often called names he’d rather not remember.

From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in. Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn’s bout with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in the Chicago slums. Evelyn died just days before Christmas in 1938.

Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he couldn’t even afford to buy a Christmas gift. But if he couldn’t buy a gift, he was determined a make one – a storybook! Bob had created an animal character in his own mind and told the animal’s story to little Barbara to give her comfort and hope.

Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling. Who was the character? What was the story all about? The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form. The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was. The name of the character? A little reindeer named Rudolph, with a big shiny nose. Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on Christmas Day. But the story doesn’t end there.

The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. Wards went on to print, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and distribute it to children visiting Santa Claus in their stores. By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase the rights from Wards to print an updated version of the book.

In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights back to Bob May. The book became a best seller. Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter. But the story doesn’t end there either.

Bob’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore, it was recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of “White Christmas.”

The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again and again. And Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn’t so bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing.

I just picked up a book “God Never Blinks” 50 Lessons for Life’s Little Detours by Regina Brett and after reading for a while I figured it would be nice to share some of her insight here with you.

When Regina Brett turned 50, she reflected on all she had learned through becoming a single parent, looking for love in all the wrong places, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer and making peace with a difficult childhood.

What I like most about her story is that it is basically no different than any of our stories. OK maybe you did or didn’t have cancer, or maybe you did or didn’t struggle with belief in a higher power, or maybe you did or didn’t find love in all the wrong places, but ultimately we all face an uphill battle in life and it is only when we surrender and accept what life has so graciously given us, that we really learn to appreciate just how lucky we truly are to be alive.

Lesson # 1

Life Isn’t Fair, but It’s Still Good.

In Regina’s first story she talks about her chance meeting with a guy named Frank (OK so how could I not buy this book after reading that haha.) In any case she had just undergone her first chemotherapy treatment and was struggling with the fear of being bald. Then she saw Frank with a baseball cap bearing the words: LIFE IS GOOD.

She asked him where he got his hat. Two days later Frank drove across town and gave her one. Frank lives by two words: Get to.

Instead of looking at his daily tasks through a negative set of lenses, Frank looks at them positively. Rather than I have to – Frank chooses to look forward to his daily tasks as – I get to.

Regina then goes into how she gradually got well and as fate would have it was able to pass on her lucky hat to others who also got well.  A really great little story of hope, compassion and kindness.

For myself I have come to realize that life is perfect balance. I have good days, bad days, joyous days, sad days, productive days, unproductive days, days that seem to never end and days I wish would last forever and it’s all OK. What I needed to learn was to accept. I needed to quit resisting and to quit fighting for what I wanted and what I didn’t want.

Now don’t get me wrong, I most certainly don’t see acceptance as an act of futility, I see it as an opportunity to grow, a chance to look beyond my simplistic view of life and to consider new possibilities and opportunities.

When I resist and fight I always reduce my chances of seeing the positive options that lay before me. In fact in the Tao Te Ching there is a verse that explains how flexibility is the key to growth and living life whereas rigidity is a telltale sign that growth has stopped an living has ceased.

I picked up a new book the other day and I love it. In fact I’m pretty sure it holds the key to the happiness we seem to have lost over the past few years. At the same time I believe this book provides an avenue to eliminating most cases of depression – of course that depends upon the willingness of those suffering from depression and their willingness to be open to what this book presents.

So if you know anyone who isn’t happy with their life, do them a favor and recommend the book – Kickback

This book unveils the discovery of a remarkable new law that reveals the original formula for prosperity, greatness and fulfillment. ~ Kickback

Ok we’ve all heard that before – BUT – this gets better – Seriously

The law demonstrates that all actions produce a kickback that is favorable when you focus outward on others’ needs and a kickback that is destructive when your focus on self is overextended. Where virtually all self-help programs encourage centering your thoughts on yourself, your goals, your needs and your desires, the Law of Contribution demonstrates that such a focus could actually create barriers to obtaining those things. The paradox is that, in order to achieve a life of abundance, we must work to first meet others’ needs rather than our own. By Robert Urbanowski

I’ve read the book and listened to the audio book (which is a free download at his website.) I really think this book can have a positive impact on society. Sure some examples may rub people the wrong way, but when have we ever been able to please everyone.

Here is the link to Robert’s website: www.lawofcontribution.com

Enjoy!!

Thank God for kids – without them who would put life into proper perspective.

LOT’S  WIFE

The Sunday School teacher was describing how Lot’s wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt, when little Jason interrupted, “My Mommy looked back once while she was driving,” he announced triumphantly, “and she turned into a telephone pole.”

GOOD SAMARITAN

A Sunday school teacher was telling her class the story of the Good Samaritan.  She asked the class, “If you saw a person lying on the roadside, all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?”  A thoughtful little girl broke the hushed silence, “I think I’d throw up.”

DID NOAH FISH?

A Sunday school teacher asked, “Johnny, do you think Noah did a lot of fishing when he was on the Ark?” “No”, replied Johnny. “How could he, with just two worms?”

HIGHER POWER

A Sunday school teacher said to her children, “We have been learning how powerful kings and queens were in Biblical times.  But, there is a Higher Power.  Can anybody tell me what it is?”  One child blurted out, “Aces!”

MOSES AND THE RED SEA

Nine-year-old Joey was asked by his mother what he had learned in Sunday School.  ”Well, Mom, our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.  When he got to the Red Sea, he had his army build a pontoon bridge and all the people walked across safely.  Then he radioed headquarters for reinforcements.  They sent bombers to blow up the bridge and all the Israelites were saved.”

“Now, Joey, is that really what your teacher taught you?” his Mother asked.

“Well, no, Mom.  But, if I told it the way the teacher did, you’d never believe it!”

THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD

A Sunday School teacher decided to have her young class memorize one of the most quoted passages in the Bible – Psalm 23.  She gave the youngsters a month to learn the chapter.  Little Rick was excited about the task – but he just couldn’t remember the Psalm.  After much practice, he could barely get past the first line.

On the day that the kids were scheduled to recite Psalm 23 in front of the congregation, Ricky was so nervous. When it was his turn, he stepped up to the microphone and said proudly, “The Lord is my Shepherd and that’s all I need to know.”

UNANSWERED PRAYER

The preacher’s 5 year-old daughter noticed that her father always paused and bowed his head for a moment before starting his sermon.  One day, she asked him why.

“Well, Honey,” he began, proud that his daughter was so observant of his messages, “I’m asking the Lord to help me preach a good sermon.”

“How come He doesn’t answer it?” she asked.

UNTIMELY ANSWERED PRAYER

During the minister’s prayer one Sunday, there was a loud whistle from one of the back pews.  Tommy’s mother was horrified.  She pinched him into silence and after church, asked, “Tommy, whatever made you do such a thing?”

Tommy answered soberly, “I asked God to teach me to whistle and He did!”

ALL MEN / ALL GIRLS

When my daughter, Kelli, said her bedtime prayers, she would bless every family member, every friend and every animal (current and past). For several weeks, after we had finished the nightly prayer, Kelli would say, “And all girls.”  This soon became part of her nightly routine, to include this closing.  My curiosity got the best of me and I asked her, “Kelli, why do you always add the part about all girls?”  Her response, “Because everybody else always finishes their prayers by saying – All Men!”

SAY A PRAYER

Little Johnny and his family were having Sunday dinner at his Grandmother’s house.  Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served.  When Little Johnny received his plate, he started eating right away.

“Johnny! Please wait until we say our prayer.” said his mother.

“I don’t need to”, the boy replied.

“Of course, you do.” his mother insisted. “We always say a prayer before eating at our house.”

“That’s at our house.” Johnny explained.  ”But this is Grandma’s house and she knows how to cook!”

This little gem was passed on to me by one of the “Your Second Fifty” writers. I have read this before in a slightly altered version – BUT – we can never have enough hope for humanity!

Enjoy!

The Price of a Miracle

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to the drug store, with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing… She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

“And what do you want?” the pharmacist asked. “Can you see, I’m talking to my brother from Chicago, whom I haven’t seen in ages,” he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

“Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,” Tess answered back. “He’s really, really sick …….. and I want to buy a miracle.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the pharmacist.

“His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?”

“We don’t sell miracles here, little girl. I’m sorry but I can’t help you,” the pharmacist said, softening a little.

“Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn’t enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs.”

The pharmacist’s brother was a well dressed man.  He stooped down and asked the little girl, “What kind of a miracle does your brother need?”

“I don’t know,” Tess replied with her eyes welling up.  ”I just know he’s  really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation… But my Daddy can’t pay for it, so I want to use my money.”

“How much do you have?” asked the man from Chicago.

“One dollar and eleven cents,” Tess answered, barely audibly. “And it’s all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.”

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man. “A dollar and eleven cents is the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.”

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand, he grasped her mitten and said, “Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents.  Let’s see if I have the miracle you need.”

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neurosurgery. The operation was completed, free of charge and it wasn’t long until Andrew was home again and doing well…

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

“That surgery,” her Mom whispered, “was a real miracle.  I wonder how much it would have  cost?”

Tess smiled.  She knew exactly how much a miracle cost….one dollar and eleven cents….plus the faith of a little child.

Take a small piece of paper – hold it up in front of you.

There will be a right side and a left side.

Tear it in half and throw away the left side so all you have left is the right side.

IMPOSSIBLE – why, because you now have a new left side.

In Chinese philosophy, the concept of yin yang is used to describe how polar or seemingly contrary forces are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world, and how they give rise to each other in turn. e.g. dark and light, female and male, low and high, cold and hot. That being said generally Taoist philosophy discounts good/bad distinctions as superficial labels, preferring to focus on the idea of balance. (Wikipedia)

However for this example I would like you to remain focused on the logic that contrary forces are interconnected and interdependent and refrain from the semantics that allow us to become distracted from the obvious truth.

Ok now consider yourself – and what you have been taught about good and bad.

Now go get a chainsaw and cut away your bad half. (KIDDING)

But you get my point if you had a bad side and you got rid of it you will only have a new bad side. Hmmmm.

So does that mean you will always be bad – well if bad was a part of you then the answer would be yes. BUT that’s where the truth comes into play. YOU ARE NOT BAD NOR ARE YOU GOOD – you’re just what you are – a PERFECT creation of you.

That being said, it now comes down to choice and external interpretation. What is good and what is bad and what you base you choice upon.

We all can choose to be good or bad – BUT IT’S NOT US THAT IS GOOD OR BAD – it is the action we take based upon our choice that was determined to be good or bad, based upon what we’ve been taught to be good or bad from the men who wrote the religious texts or those who interpret the religious texts or from the modern day law makers who now make the modern day form of government and YES – who are in control and determine what is good or bad.

Here is an example of bad and good (EXTREME EXAMPLE)

I’m sitting in a restaurant and I take out a gun and shoot three people behind the counter. I’m a bad person?

I’m a soldier in Afghanistan and I shoot three armed Taliban threatening to harm a group of women. I’m a good person?

After I shoot the three restaurant workers it becomes clear that they were homegrown terrorists and that they had plans to bomb a school in Vancouver. I’m a good person?

After I shoot the three armed Taliban soldiers it becomes clear they are young boys and they were only serving because if they didn’t their families would be killed by the extremist leaders. I’m a bad person?

The point being – I’M STILL THE SAME PERSON – what made my choice good or bad was your interpretation of my actions in each example – because the result was the same.

We’ve been fed a lot of information over the course of our lives based upon the interpretation of those in power as to what’s good or bad and it’s now time for these teachings to be seriously challenged. Why, because many of these teachings are no longer applicable in today’s world and the original intent has become redundant, unproductive and in many cases down right dangerous.

The time is now for us to reclaim our own conscience, to trust ourselves and to base our choices not on what’s going to be the most rewarding externally (money, heaven, and/or the acceptance of others) but what is going to create the most peace internally. We were all created equal. We don’t need to follow to understand and to know. It is within us all. We don’t need to allow guilt and shame to determine our choices. We can base our choices upon our internal peace. We must overcome controlling and manipulating forms of control if we ever hope to find self-love and internal peace and we must remember that we were all created perfect – as perfect as we can possibly be.

A young student from a prestigious university was taking a walk with one of his professors. This was no ordinary professor, this was the professor commonly called “The Students’ Friend,” because of the kindness, patience and compassion he showed to his students. As they walked along the student noticed a pair of old shoes, which he believed belonged to a poor man working in the fields nearby.

The student turned to the professor, saying: “Let;s play a trick on the worker: we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and watch to see how he reacts.”

“My young friend,” answered the professor, “we should never amuse ourselves at the expense of the others. In fact I’m sure you’ll attain greater pleasure by placing a coin into each shoe. Once you have we’ll hide ourselves and watch how the discovery affects him.”

The student placed a coin in each shoe and then along with the professor hide in the bushes. Soon the poor man finished his work, and came across the field to the path where he had left his coat and shoes. After pulling on his coat he slipped his foot into one of the shoes; feeling something hard, he stopped, stooped down and found the coin. Astonishment and wonder graced his face. He gazed upon the coin, turned it round, and looked at it again and again. He then looked around, but no one was to be seen. He slid the money into his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; to his surprise he found the other coin. Feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to the heavens and uttered aloud a passionate thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without food and how this timely gift from an unknown hand would save them all from perishing.

The student stood there deeply affected, his eyes filling with tears. “Now,” said the professor, “is your pleasure not greater than had you played your intended trick?”

The youth replied, “You have taught me a lesson which I will never forget.”

“It is indeed more blessed to give than to receive.”

Author Unknown

A great little story that reflects a belief I’ve had for some years now – heaven is not a destination – but – a state of being and that we are one with our higher power – in other words, at least from my understanding, there is no thrown of judgment or condemnation.

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith.

That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long.. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped.  I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… Very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the “atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, “Do you think I’ll ever find God?”

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. “No!” I said very emphatically.

“Why not,” he responded, “I thought that was the product you were pushing.”

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then I called out, “Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you! “He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line — He will find you! At least I thought it was clever.

Later I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy.

But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe. “Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often; I hear you are sick,” I blurted out.

“Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks.”

“Can you talk about it, Tom?” I asked.

“Sure, what would you like to know?” he replied.

“What’s it like to be only twenty-four and dying?

“Well, it could be worse.

“Like what?

“Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life..

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under “S” where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

“But what I really came to see you about,” Tom said, “is something you said to me on the last day of class.”(He remembered!) He continued, “I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised me Then you said, ‘But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time.

(My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)

“But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that’s when I got serious about locating God.. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging  fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out.

In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying.  And then you quit.

“Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn’t really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that.

I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.’”

“So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. “Dad.”

Yes, what?” he asked without lowering the newspaper. “Dad, I would like to talk with you.”

“Well, talk.”

“I mean. It’s really important.”

The newspaper came down three slow inches. “What is it?”

“Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that.  ”Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. The newspaper fluttered to the floor.

Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.”

“It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.

“I was only sorry about one thing — that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

“Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, ‘C’mon, jump through. C’mon, I’ll give you three days, three weeks.’”

“Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him.”

“Tommy,” I practically gasped, “I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that.

He said: ‘God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him. ‘Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell it.

“Oooh. I was ready for you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for your class.”

“Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call.”

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date.

However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class.

Before he died, we talked one last time.

“I’m not going to make it to your class,” he said.

“I know, Tom.”

“Will you tell them for me? Will you … tell the whole world for me?”

I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best.”

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story, thank you for listening.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.

It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

With thanks, Rev. John Powell, Professor, Loyola

University, Chicago

I find it interesting to look back upon the evolution of religion and to see how man has interpreted God’s will and intent.

The Vedas are a large body of texts originating in ancient India. Composed in Vedic Sanskrit, the texts constitute the oldest layer of Sanskrit literature and the oldest scriptures of Hinduism.

The Vedas are among the oldest sacred texts. The Samhitas date to roughly 1500-1000 BCE, and the “circum-Vedic” texts, as well as the redaction of the Samhitas, date to c. 1000-500 BCE, resulting in a Vedic period.

VEDIC WAYS TO REDUCE STRESS…

God says, ‘Never borrow from the future. If you worry about what may happen tomorrow and it doesn’t happen, you have worried in vain Even if it does happen, you have to worry twice.’

1. Pray.

2. Go to bed on time.

3. Get up on time so you can start the day unrushed.

4. Say No to projects that won’t fit into your time schedule, or that will compromise your mental health.

5. Delegate tasks to capable others.

6. Simplify and unclutter your life.

7. Less is more. (Although one is often not enough, two are often too many.)

8. Allow extra time to do things and to get to places.

9. Pace yourself. Spread out big changes and difficult projects over time; don’t lump the hard things all together.

10. Take one day at a time.

11. Separate worries from concerns. If a situation is a concern, find out what God would have you do and let go of the anxiety. If you can’t do anything about a situation, forget it.

12. Live within your budget; don’t use credit cards for ordinary purchases.

13. Have backups; an extra car key in your wallet, an extra house key buried in the garden, extra stamps, etc.

14. K.M.S. (Keep Mouth Shut). This single piece of advice can prevent an enormous amount of trouble.

15. Do something for the Kid in You everyday.

16. Carry a good Book with you to read while waiting in line.

17. Get enough rest.

18. Eat right.

19 Get organized so everything has its place.

20. Listen to a tape while driving that can help improve your quality of life.

21. Write down thoughts and inspirations.

22. Every day, find time to be alone.

23. Having problems? Talk to God on the spot. Try to nip small problems in the bud. Don’t wait until it’s time to go to bed to try and pray.

24. Make friends with Godly people.

25. Keep a folder of favorite scriptures on hand.

26. Remember that the shortest bridge between despair and hope is often a good – Thank you.

27. Laugh.

28. Laugh some more!

29. Take your work seriously, but not yourself at all.

30. Develop a forgiving attitude (most people are doing the best they can).

31. Be kind to unkind people (they probably need it the most).

32. Sit on your ego.

33 Talk less; listen more.

34. Slow down.

35. Remind yourself that you are not the general manager of the universe.

36. Every night before bed, think of one thing you’re grateful for that you’ve never been grateful for before. GOD HAS A WAY OF TURNING THINGS AROUND FOR YOU.