If I had to pick one thing that allowed me to go from pumping gas in a service station to spending 50 years founding, formulating and being chairman of a number of companies that operate globally in over 100 different countries I would have to attribute it to the coaching I received from the six great coaches and mentors in my life. I want to share with you the lessons I learned from them because I believe you will benefit greatly by them.
Focus on all the Reasons You Can Get What You Want
Ray Stanford entered my life when I was working in the fire hall in Toronto at age 26, exactly 50 years ago. I was earning $4,000 and I owed $6,000 and it never even entered my mind that I could get out of debt. He encouraged me to take an honest look at the results I was getting. He said "Bob, you keep talking about not having a formal education and using it as an excuse for getting poor results." He then said, "Those are only reasons why you're not getting what you want. Set those aside and start to focus on all the reasons you can get what you what." Then he gave me Napoleon Hill's book, Think and Grow Rich.
He said, "Bob, if you will make the commitment to do exactly what this book says and exactly what I suggest, I'll help you change your life." I didn't really believe I could, but I believed he believed I could. And it was his belief in me that inspired me to begin to study. One year later, I was earning $175,000 a year and, from there, I took it to over a million a year. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I was beginning to realize a lot of the things that I had been thinking weren't true. I thought some people were lucky but others weren't. I was to find out that you and I have exactly the same potential.
Study, Study, Study
I then got a hold of Earl Nightingale's condensed narration of the Napoleon Hill book, Think And Grow Rich on a record. I began listening to that record every day. It was listening to Earl's voice and the information he was sharing that caused me to want to go to work with him. I moved my Family from Toronto to Chicago and joined the Nightingale-Conant Corporation. It was only after I got there that I realized I had a double win. I wasn't only going to work with Earl Nightingale - I would also work with Lloyd Conant. Earl and Lloyd became my 2 coaches. I loved working for them and I got an education that you couldn't buy. They literally originated the self help business in recorded fashion that we know today. In time, the Nightingale-Conant Corporation became the largest distributer of self help programs in the world, and I was working there with the people that originated it. Earl Nightingale taught me how to study. He said, "Don't just read the book, study i t. Attempt to understand the idea the author is attempting to communicate in each paragraph. To do that you might need to study that paragraph for a month."
Take the Lid Off Your Mind and Let it Soar
Lloyd Conant taught me to take the lid off my mind and let it soar. He said, "Bob, nothing is big or small, except our thinking makes it so. No one alive knows what we're capable of doing. Go after something big. Even if you miss, it can be exhilarating."
Know You Have a Magnificent Mind
It was there that I was introduced to Val Van De Wall. Val and I became great friends and he shared one idea with me that literally changed my life. It was a diagram of the mind. He explained we think in pictures but no one has ever seen the mind so when we think of it, we become confused. There is no order in the mind. A doctor friend of his came up with the original drawing. I refer to it as the Stick Person and I've shared it with people all over the world. If I were to be coaching you, I'd teach it to you.
Val introduced me to his coach, Dr. Harry Roder. Harry knew more about the mind than anyone I'd ever met. I'd spent countless hours with him and I began to understand exactly how the mind functions. In fact, Dr. John Mike from Florida said I taught him more about the mind in 1 year than he had learned in 4 years of medical school and 5 years of psychiatric training. I found that interesting because I had merely taught him what Dr. Roder had taught me.
These 5 men helped me answer a huge question . how and why did my life change? Without any formal education, without any business experience, in less than 5 years, I built a company that operated in 7 cities and 3 different countries and I really didn't understand how I had done it. They taught me what I had changed and how I had accomplished what I had accomplished. It was this magnificent knowledge that triggered the enormous desire in me to teach this information to as many people as I could. But I had one big problem . I was quiet and shy.
Believe You Can Do What You Believe Others Can Accomplish
I was afraid to stand up and ask a question let alone stand up and teach. It was at that point in the late sixties at the Hyatt Hotel in Chicago that a man named Bill Gove walked out on a stage and literally captivated an audience of 500 people. Merely by sharing information with them, he had that audience in the palm of his hand. I stood there thinking, "If only I could do that, then I could teach what I've learned." But the thought of it scared the daylights out of me.
At that point, I flashed back in my mind to a recording of Earl Nightingale's that I had listened to a thousand times. He said, "Now right here we come to a rather strange fact. We tend to minimize the things we can do, the goals we can accomplish, and for some equally strange reason we think other people can accomplish things that we cannot. I want you to understand that that is not true. You have deep reservoirs of talent and ability within you that you can bring to the surface and achieve all that you desire."
If you had asked me if I'd understood it, I probably would've said, "Of course!" But here I was watching Bill Gove do something I thought I couldn't. It was at that point that I started hearing the recording in my head and I realized if Bill can do it, I can do it. I switched my thinking to, "If I could do that, I could help people all over the world change their life." And it suddenly dawned on me that we are capable of doing anything. I'm not going to just do that, I'm going to get the man on the stage, Bill Gove, to teach me. and he did. Today I'm able to do what he did and get on the stage and share this valuable information. Bill Gove and I remained friends for over 35 years until he passed away a few years ago.
Pass It Along
All of these men are gone but their legacy lives on, through me and all of the other people they helped. That's how my life changed. These people taught me to earn millions of dollars and invest it back into a business that has helped millions of people. These lessons have allowed me to help people who were in financial trouble become prosperous and companies that were struggling grow into viable organizations. Any way a person can be helped, I've seen it happen because the answers are within us. And, because of what these great men taught me, I was able to pass it along.
Bob Proctor
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Monday, May 23, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Conquering the Stairs
Have you ever let fear conquer you? Well today, you're going to read about an amazing dog who helped me overcome mine.
Caspian was a new addition to my household. He had shown up in the front yard of my 100 year old Virginia farmhouse one early morning. He was skin and bones, covered with ticks, fleas and sores, and had been shot - his skinny body riddled with buckshot. I took one look at this pathetic animal and told him he was home.
It took weeks of vet treatments, baths and many bowls of food, but he finally began to look like a dog that was going to make it. His bones began to disappear, his coat took on a shine, and he became my constant shadow to show his appreciation for me saving his life. He was always with me - except when I went upstairs to my office.
My home had a wide expanse of wooden stairs that led to the 2nd floor. Caspian was terrified of them. It didn't matter what I did to build his confidence, or what wonderful tidbit of food I tempted him with, he refused to climb those stairs. He would just cower at the bottom stair and shake all over whenever I got him near them. Yet when I went up to my office, he was overcome with despair at being separated from me and laid at the bottom whimpering and whining.
I had no idea what had created this fear, and I had even less of an idea of how to conquer it. After two weeks of daily attempts, I finally gave up. If he didn't want to climb the stairs - so be it. But my only defense from his pitiful whining was to turn the music up any time I needed to be in my office. When I would leave my office and come downstairs, Caspian would erupt with frantic joy to be reunited once again.
About a month into this pattern, I was awakened one morning by a noise. I lay in bed trying to identify what it was.
Click, click, click. Silence. Click, click, click. Silence.
It kept on for close to fifteen minutes before my curiosity finally overwhelmed my desire to stay under the warm covers. I threw aside my quilt, grabbed a robe and went out to investigate. When I identified the source of the noise, I just stood there with my mouth wide open.
I watched as Caspian carefully climbed the stairs. Click, click, click. He got to the top, turned around, and then started back down. Click, click, click.
When he got to the bottom, he turned and gazed at me as if to say, It's really no big deal. I can do this!
And then he did it again, and again, and again. at least 25 more times - after already having done it for 15 minutes before I finally came to investigate.
I watched his confidence grow with each ascent and descent of the "dreaded stairs." His tongue hung out in joy and at the end his tail was wagging is triumph over his fears. He knew he would never again have to be separated from me because of the stairs.
I already loved him, but that day I gained an incredible respect for his courage and resilience. I was also challenged about what I was willing to do to overcome my fears. Was I willing to stare my fears in the face and then take the steps to overcome that fear? Was I willing to feel the fear, and then do it anyway? Was I willing to attack my fears, for as long as it took to overcome them? I made a lot of decisions that day that have given me a much richer life - and I have Caspian to thank for it!
So now I pose the same questions to you: Are you willing to stare your fears in the face and then take the steps to overcome them? Are you willing to feel the fear, and then do it anyway? Are you willing to attack your fears for as long as it takes to overcome them?
Every time you are faced with a fear, try to remember a courageous dog that was able to conquer his fears with love and determination - and then follow his lead. All of us are afraid of something in our lives. There is no shame in being afraid. The key to victory, however, is to face your fear head on and do whatever it takes to overcome it. You can let your fears stop you from achieving all you want in life, or. you can follow Caspian's lead and conquer the stairs!
Ginny Dye
Caspian was a new addition to my household. He had shown up in the front yard of my 100 year old Virginia farmhouse one early morning. He was skin and bones, covered with ticks, fleas and sores, and had been shot - his skinny body riddled with buckshot. I took one look at this pathetic animal and told him he was home.
It took weeks of vet treatments, baths and many bowls of food, but he finally began to look like a dog that was going to make it. His bones began to disappear, his coat took on a shine, and he became my constant shadow to show his appreciation for me saving his life. He was always with me - except when I went upstairs to my office.
My home had a wide expanse of wooden stairs that led to the 2nd floor. Caspian was terrified of them. It didn't matter what I did to build his confidence, or what wonderful tidbit of food I tempted him with, he refused to climb those stairs. He would just cower at the bottom stair and shake all over whenever I got him near them. Yet when I went up to my office, he was overcome with despair at being separated from me and laid at the bottom whimpering and whining.
I had no idea what had created this fear, and I had even less of an idea of how to conquer it. After two weeks of daily attempts, I finally gave up. If he didn't want to climb the stairs - so be it. But my only defense from his pitiful whining was to turn the music up any time I needed to be in my office. When I would leave my office and come downstairs, Caspian would erupt with frantic joy to be reunited once again.
About a month into this pattern, I was awakened one morning by a noise. I lay in bed trying to identify what it was.
Click, click, click. Silence. Click, click, click. Silence.
It kept on for close to fifteen minutes before my curiosity finally overwhelmed my desire to stay under the warm covers. I threw aside my quilt, grabbed a robe and went out to investigate. When I identified the source of the noise, I just stood there with my mouth wide open.
I watched as Caspian carefully climbed the stairs. Click, click, click. He got to the top, turned around, and then started back down. Click, click, click.
When he got to the bottom, he turned and gazed at me as if to say, It's really no big deal. I can do this!
And then he did it again, and again, and again. at least 25 more times - after already having done it for 15 minutes before I finally came to investigate.
I watched his confidence grow with each ascent and descent of the "dreaded stairs." His tongue hung out in joy and at the end his tail was wagging is triumph over his fears. He knew he would never again have to be separated from me because of the stairs.
I already loved him, but that day I gained an incredible respect for his courage and resilience. I was also challenged about what I was willing to do to overcome my fears. Was I willing to stare my fears in the face and then take the steps to overcome that fear? Was I willing to feel the fear, and then do it anyway? Was I willing to attack my fears, for as long as it took to overcome them? I made a lot of decisions that day that have given me a much richer life - and I have Caspian to thank for it!
So now I pose the same questions to you: Are you willing to stare your fears in the face and then take the steps to overcome them? Are you willing to feel the fear, and then do it anyway? Are you willing to attack your fears for as long as it takes to overcome them?
Every time you are faced with a fear, try to remember a courageous dog that was able to conquer his fears with love and determination - and then follow his lead. All of us are afraid of something in our lives. There is no shame in being afraid. The key to victory, however, is to face your fear head on and do whatever it takes to overcome it. You can let your fears stop you from achieving all you want in life, or. you can follow Caspian's lead and conquer the stairs!
Ginny Dye
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Don't Let Life Get In The Way Of Your Life
The memories are so very clear. We had just put the final touches; the last giant cubes of marble and concrete were setting in. It didn't matter that they were really big rocks and chunks of dirt and mud on the walls. What a magnificent structure! No Indians, no Cavalry, no Kings Men and no Attila the Hun could storm these walls. My friends and I had built this magnificent fort to withstand any assault from our imaginary enemies. It never occurred to us that this fortress, this pillar of strength could crumble at any moment. It had taken us days to build but they were wonderful days. The sun was blistering hot. July days in southern Ohio would get that way. The Great Miami River sparkled in the distance as we slaved and struggled to build this edifice to engineering. Of course we didn't know that's what we were building but that's what my memory of those days has etched in my dreams. We had built something that nobody else had ever built and we'd defend it to the last man; or 8 year old boy. Life was so exciting back then and this fort represented all that was good. And then the rains came. Two days of torrential rain and the river kept rising and the insurmountable, the un-breachable fort was gone, carried away in the deluge. Dreams were destroyed that week in 1953 but they would appear again. We just didn't realize it at the time. It didn't cross our minds that we were actually learning one of the basics of an adventuresome life. Nothing lasts forever
It's interesting how memories and dreams sustain us as we grow older. Life often becomes what we want it to be based on those dreams of long ago. Sadly, we too often forget to live those dreams and we forget that anything is possible in a dream.
I've always been a bit of a dreamer so those memories of long ago have stayed with me as if they happened yesterday. That doesn't mean it hasn't rained on my forts just a few times. Those memories have helped me rebuild many forts and continue to do so today. Forts though get bigger, stronger and harder to rebuild as we get older but they don't disappear. They just take more work. I've learned over these many years that those rebuilt forts have led to the greatest lessons I've ever experienced. These are the lessons that make life worthwhile, more challenging and satisfying than almost all of the other lessons combined. I like to describe them as just one of many rebirths.
My youngest daughter had just gotten married a few weeks prior to me visiting the Dr. in May of 1998. This wasn't a comfortable visit but it was one where I pretty much knew what the outcome would be. As a runner and avid weight lifter I knew right away the signs of a hernia and thus my visit to the Dr. Little did I know that this visit would change my life and it would never be the same.
Over the next couple of weeks I was told that my kidneys were down to about 25% functioning and I soon required emergency surgery on my hernia. I was forced to delay the original hernia surgery due to the kidney issue. The prognosis I was given set the stage for life altering events that would take me in a direction I had never dreamed. The lessons I would learn would change me in ways that were unimaginable before that day. I would never be the same.My fort was being destroyed by torrents of bad news. My internal fortress was washed away, seemingly to never be found again.
Thus was my introduction to one of the most life altering moments in my fifty plus years and the beginning of a journey that continues even today. It's strange how these forts we build in our lives can crumble overnight. We think we can withstand anything and then the unexpected storm happens and the walls come tumbling down. What we do at that point creates the defining moments in our lives. Who we are and what we are made of screams out at us to make a statement and be heard. Whether we do or not attests to our makeup and sets the stage for making those dreams come true or letting them wash away with the turmoil.
For me it wasn't traumatic or even frightening. It was more like a slap across the face when I wasn't quite ready. Have you ever had a slap like that? A slap that hits you square in the face when you least expect it. It usually happens when we aren't looking with the painfully delivered message that life was changing forever. I had kidney disease and I actually lost my breath. My fort had failed to keep out the enemy. My walls crumbled and the invaders were close at hand. I was facing hand to hand combat and I didn't even have a weapon; or did I?
That was June of 1998 and I had just come through a pretty stressful few months. I lost my mother, mother-in-law and brother-in-law all between the first week in October, 1997 and Christmas. My youngest daughter had just gotten married in May, 1998 and I had just completed one of the most lucrative consulting assignments I'd had since starting my business in 1992. To say my life was turned upside down was an understatement. I almost didn't know what to deal with first, my grief over losing my loved ones, my joy over my daughter's marriage, my elation that my business had finally taken off or the crash of a life altering illness. It was a lot to deal with but as I look back, I realize that this 8 month period of time would define my life from that point forward. I now know why we say, everything happens for a reason. I now truly understand my purpose in life. Kidney disease pushed me over the hump and forced me to see more clearly what I needed to do and that i t was not as difficult or confusing as I had always made it. What I finally found was the direction I'd searched for most of my life and that direction was forward. All the trials and tribulations, all the struggles and setbacks, all the losses and seeming failures in life as well as the victories and happy times were simply a part of life. My fort could be rebuilt just like that one many years earlier. Why hadn't I seen it before?
We all have our forts destroyed at some time in our lives. Many of those forts aren't all that big or strong and some, like mine don't fall so easily but when they do, we need a plan to rebuild. We need to think clearly and rationally and believe in our hearts that it was just a structure. It had a foundation and walls and rooms that were pieces of a life well lived but it didn't have to have a roof. It didn't have to have a ceiling that stopped us. When we realize this, we're on our way to success. So how do we rebuild those forts? We keep our wits and think things through.
We slow down and analyze the problem. Overreaction can be the death of any good plan.
We act. We do something. Procrastination never accomplishes anything.
We logically move forward, one step at a time.
We believe that this is the beginning of a new chapter in life and it may very well be the best one.
I read one time where it's never too late to become what we might have been. Don't let your life get in the way of your life. It's just not all that complicated.
Jim Dineen
It's interesting how memories and dreams sustain us as we grow older. Life often becomes what we want it to be based on those dreams of long ago. Sadly, we too often forget to live those dreams and we forget that anything is possible in a dream.
I've always been a bit of a dreamer so those memories of long ago have stayed with me as if they happened yesterday. That doesn't mean it hasn't rained on my forts just a few times. Those memories have helped me rebuild many forts and continue to do so today. Forts though get bigger, stronger and harder to rebuild as we get older but they don't disappear. They just take more work. I've learned over these many years that those rebuilt forts have led to the greatest lessons I've ever experienced. These are the lessons that make life worthwhile, more challenging and satisfying than almost all of the other lessons combined. I like to describe them as just one of many rebirths.
My youngest daughter had just gotten married a few weeks prior to me visiting the Dr. in May of 1998. This wasn't a comfortable visit but it was one where I pretty much knew what the outcome would be. As a runner and avid weight lifter I knew right away the signs of a hernia and thus my visit to the Dr. Little did I know that this visit would change my life and it would never be the same.
Over the next couple of weeks I was told that my kidneys were down to about 25% functioning and I soon required emergency surgery on my hernia. I was forced to delay the original hernia surgery due to the kidney issue. The prognosis I was given set the stage for life altering events that would take me in a direction I had never dreamed. The lessons I would learn would change me in ways that were unimaginable before that day. I would never be the same.My fort was being destroyed by torrents of bad news. My internal fortress was washed away, seemingly to never be found again.
Thus was my introduction to one of the most life altering moments in my fifty plus years and the beginning of a journey that continues even today. It's strange how these forts we build in our lives can crumble overnight. We think we can withstand anything and then the unexpected storm happens and the walls come tumbling down. What we do at that point creates the defining moments in our lives. Who we are and what we are made of screams out at us to make a statement and be heard. Whether we do or not attests to our makeup and sets the stage for making those dreams come true or letting them wash away with the turmoil.
For me it wasn't traumatic or even frightening. It was more like a slap across the face when I wasn't quite ready. Have you ever had a slap like that? A slap that hits you square in the face when you least expect it. It usually happens when we aren't looking with the painfully delivered message that life was changing forever. I had kidney disease and I actually lost my breath. My fort had failed to keep out the enemy. My walls crumbled and the invaders were close at hand. I was facing hand to hand combat and I didn't even have a weapon; or did I?
That was June of 1998 and I had just come through a pretty stressful few months. I lost my mother, mother-in-law and brother-in-law all between the first week in October, 1997 and Christmas. My youngest daughter had just gotten married in May, 1998 and I had just completed one of the most lucrative consulting assignments I'd had since starting my business in 1992. To say my life was turned upside down was an understatement. I almost didn't know what to deal with first, my grief over losing my loved ones, my joy over my daughter's marriage, my elation that my business had finally taken off or the crash of a life altering illness. It was a lot to deal with but as I look back, I realize that this 8 month period of time would define my life from that point forward. I now know why we say, everything happens for a reason. I now truly understand my purpose in life. Kidney disease pushed me over the hump and forced me to see more clearly what I needed to do and that i t was not as difficult or confusing as I had always made it. What I finally found was the direction I'd searched for most of my life and that direction was forward. All the trials and tribulations, all the struggles and setbacks, all the losses and seeming failures in life as well as the victories and happy times were simply a part of life. My fort could be rebuilt just like that one many years earlier. Why hadn't I seen it before?
We all have our forts destroyed at some time in our lives. Many of those forts aren't all that big or strong and some, like mine don't fall so easily but when they do, we need a plan to rebuild. We need to think clearly and rationally and believe in our hearts that it was just a structure. It had a foundation and walls and rooms that were pieces of a life well lived but it didn't have to have a roof. It didn't have to have a ceiling that stopped us. When we realize this, we're on our way to success. So how do we rebuild those forts? We keep our wits and think things through.
We slow down and analyze the problem. Overreaction can be the death of any good plan.
We act. We do something. Procrastination never accomplishes anything.
We logically move forward, one step at a time.
We believe that this is the beginning of a new chapter in life and it may very well be the best one.
I read one time where it's never too late to become what we might have been. Don't let your life get in the way of your life. It's just not all that complicated.
Jim Dineen
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The Pages Long Forgotten
Mike stepped into the used bookstore, smelled the age of old pages and smiled.
Here was a wealth of old stories, history waiting to be read, and a host of other joys. On a back shelf, he found what he was looking for, two tiers crammed with the forgotten. They'd served their use to those who once held them dear, but now gathered dust in the darkest corner of the store.
There were Italian, American, French and Greek. They contained secrets from around the world. There were collections of chicken, beef, pastries, bread, and desserts. They waited, hidden in a little explored part of the store, and hoped someone discovered their treasures.
Mike knew what to do. He picked one up, held the spine in his hand and let the book fall open. They always opened to the most used pages, the recipes loved by lost generations. The page in front of him was for a recipe called, "Beef-filled cornbread". The picture showed a delicious layer of meat and cheese, layered with cornbread and covered with a hot sauce. The pages were stained with splatters of tomato sauce. It was obviously a favorite of the previous owners. He'd try this one.
Those used the most are the best.
He found several other books, each with its own marked pages, carried them to the counter and made his purchase.
"I hope you found something you like." The cashier said.
"Oh yes. Very much! I'm sure these are exactly to my taste."
He paid for his purchase, left the store and carried them in a bag on his way to work.
In the locker room, he placed his books on the top shelf and changed into his scrubs. The recipes would wait. He had a duty.
Freshly dressed, he walked his floor. "Hello, Mrs. Smith!" He smiled at the elderly lady sitting in the sun-room reading a book. In her day, she must have been a beautiful woman. She still was, for a woman in her eighties. "How was your day?"
"Horrible!" she growled. He sat beside her, held her hand and looked into her eyes. "My grandson didn't visit me," she continued. "He promised me he'd be here today." She adjusted her shawl and tried to hide the tears about to spill from her wizened eyes.
"Maybe tomorrow." he replied. "You know how busy these young people are." He noted the tear in the corner of her eye and changed subject. "Mrs. Smith, didn't you tell me you lived during the great depression?"
A smile came to her face. "Oh, yes. What a time that was. There was no work, ya know. But we survived."
"How did you get by?"
"Well, we all worked together. Everyone worked together. We helped each other." She frowned. "It's not like today, where people are too busy to worry about anyone but themselves. In those days, we worked together. If you didn't, you starved."
"It must have been a hard time, Mrs. Smith. I don't know how you did it."
"I didn't." she grinned. "We did. We did it together, the neighbors and my family."
He left her smiling and hoped her grandson paid a visit the next day.
He moved down the hall and stepped into Mr. Walker's room. "Hey, Walk! How's things?" He used the name Walk, as all the others in the center called him. It made Walk feel comfortable.
Mr. Walker looked up from a puzzle he leaned over. "Could be better, Mike. This damn puzzle has me stumped. These eyes aren't what they used to be."
"I know, Walk. Just take your time. There's no rush."
"There is too." Walk chuckled. "I need to finish it before I die."
"Not too soon I hope." Mike said.
"Soon enough. Be glad not to have to work on this darn thing anymore anyway. Say! Have I told you about the guy who walks into a bar with a giraffe under his arm?"
Mike chuckled. Walk loved a good joke. "I don't believe you have."
Walk's face broke out in a smile. "You see, this guy walks into a bar with a giraffe under his arm. He has a few beers. The giraffe falls asleep on the floor. The bartender looks down, sees the giraffe and asks, 'What's that lying on the floor?'
"The guy says, 'That's not a lion! That's a giraffe.'"
Walk broke into a laugh that turned into a coughing spell. Mike slapped him on the back. "Come on, Walk. Cough it up."
Walk got himself under control. "Thought I wasn't going to finish this damn puzzle after all."
"You're OK now. I got your back."
I know about covering someone's back." Walk sat straight his seat. "I was in WWII ya know."
"I heard that. Did you have a hard time?" Mike asked.
"Mike, you have no idea. It was the winter of '41, or was it '42. I can't remember now. Snow was up to here." Walk pointed to his thigh. "We were on the front. The enemy was close ."
Thirty minutes later, Mike said, "WOW! That's a story, Walk." He paused. "Walk, I knew you were in the war, but I don't think I ever thanked you. I want to say, 'Thank you.' You made us safe."
"Ah, stop it. It was nothing." Walk turned to his puzzle, too embarrassed to continue their talk. He and others knew what they did, but don't want to take credit. It's an unspoken rule between the veterans. They did what they had to.
Mike continued on his rounds, held hands, shared hugs and listened.
Here they were, like the cookbooks, sitting in dark corners, ignored. Mike knew what to do. He held them, let their hearts fall open, and found the pages stained with use.
They are the most valued. They are the pages long forgotten.
Michael T. Smith
Here was a wealth of old stories, history waiting to be read, and a host of other joys. On a back shelf, he found what he was looking for, two tiers crammed with the forgotten. They'd served their use to those who once held them dear, but now gathered dust in the darkest corner of the store.
There were Italian, American, French and Greek. They contained secrets from around the world. There were collections of chicken, beef, pastries, bread, and desserts. They waited, hidden in a little explored part of the store, and hoped someone discovered their treasures.
Mike knew what to do. He picked one up, held the spine in his hand and let the book fall open. They always opened to the most used pages, the recipes loved by lost generations. The page in front of him was for a recipe called, "Beef-filled cornbread". The picture showed a delicious layer of meat and cheese, layered with cornbread and covered with a hot sauce. The pages were stained with splatters of tomato sauce. It was obviously a favorite of the previous owners. He'd try this one.
Those used the most are the best.
He found several other books, each with its own marked pages, carried them to the counter and made his purchase.
"I hope you found something you like." The cashier said.
"Oh yes. Very much! I'm sure these are exactly to my taste."
He paid for his purchase, left the store and carried them in a bag on his way to work.
In the locker room, he placed his books on the top shelf and changed into his scrubs. The recipes would wait. He had a duty.
Freshly dressed, he walked his floor. "Hello, Mrs. Smith!" He smiled at the elderly lady sitting in the sun-room reading a book. In her day, she must have been a beautiful woman. She still was, for a woman in her eighties. "How was your day?"
"Horrible!" she growled. He sat beside her, held her hand and looked into her eyes. "My grandson didn't visit me," she continued. "He promised me he'd be here today." She adjusted her shawl and tried to hide the tears about to spill from her wizened eyes.
"Maybe tomorrow." he replied. "You know how busy these young people are." He noted the tear in the corner of her eye and changed subject. "Mrs. Smith, didn't you tell me you lived during the great depression?"
A smile came to her face. "Oh, yes. What a time that was. There was no work, ya know. But we survived."
"How did you get by?"
"Well, we all worked together. Everyone worked together. We helped each other." She frowned. "It's not like today, where people are too busy to worry about anyone but themselves. In those days, we worked together. If you didn't, you starved."
"It must have been a hard time, Mrs. Smith. I don't know how you did it."
"I didn't." she grinned. "We did. We did it together, the neighbors and my family."
He left her smiling and hoped her grandson paid a visit the next day.
He moved down the hall and stepped into Mr. Walker's room. "Hey, Walk! How's things?" He used the name Walk, as all the others in the center called him. It made Walk feel comfortable.
Mr. Walker looked up from a puzzle he leaned over. "Could be better, Mike. This damn puzzle has me stumped. These eyes aren't what they used to be."
"I know, Walk. Just take your time. There's no rush."
"There is too." Walk chuckled. "I need to finish it before I die."
"Not too soon I hope." Mike said.
"Soon enough. Be glad not to have to work on this darn thing anymore anyway. Say! Have I told you about the guy who walks into a bar with a giraffe under his arm?"
Mike chuckled. Walk loved a good joke. "I don't believe you have."
Walk's face broke out in a smile. "You see, this guy walks into a bar with a giraffe under his arm. He has a few beers. The giraffe falls asleep on the floor. The bartender looks down, sees the giraffe and asks, 'What's that lying on the floor?'
"The guy says, 'That's not a lion! That's a giraffe.'"
Walk broke into a laugh that turned into a coughing spell. Mike slapped him on the back. "Come on, Walk. Cough it up."
Walk got himself under control. "Thought I wasn't going to finish this damn puzzle after all."
"You're OK now. I got your back."
I know about covering someone's back." Walk sat straight his seat. "I was in WWII ya know."
"I heard that. Did you have a hard time?" Mike asked.
"Mike, you have no idea. It was the winter of '41, or was it '42. I can't remember now. Snow was up to here." Walk pointed to his thigh. "We were on the front. The enemy was close ."
Thirty minutes later, Mike said, "WOW! That's a story, Walk." He paused. "Walk, I knew you were in the war, but I don't think I ever thanked you. I want to say, 'Thank you.' You made us safe."
"Ah, stop it. It was nothing." Walk turned to his puzzle, too embarrassed to continue their talk. He and others knew what they did, but don't want to take credit. It's an unspoken rule between the veterans. They did what they had to.
Mike continued on his rounds, held hands, shared hugs and listened.
Here they were, like the cookbooks, sitting in dark corners, ignored. Mike knew what to do. He held them, let their hearts fall open, and found the pages stained with use.
They are the most valued. They are the pages long forgotten.
Michael T. Smith
Sunday, February 13, 2011
She Never Left My Side
"PUUUSH...PUUUSH," I called out to my friend, but it appeared that there was no use in trying anymore. My car was stuck in the mud and I was on a double date. Being a 16 year old boy, I wanted to make a good impression on my pretty and intelligent date. However, hearing the motor rev with the car still stuck in the mud did not earn "brownie points" for my friend or me in the eyes of our dates.
We continued to push and push, but there was no getting my car "unstuck" from the mud. Sharon, my date, was revving the car's engine while Jeff and I were pushing and pushing. Finally, I said, "Enough!" Embarrassed, I approached Sharon as she sat behind the wheel of my mother's red station wagon. Before I could speak I noticed the gear on the car: IT WAS SET ON "NEUTRAL!"
I set the gear to "drive," instructed Sharon to wait until I gave her the signal to press down on the accelerator, and then went back to help Jeff push the car out of the mud.
That was our first date. Even though it resulted in my getting mud on my slacks, Sharon caused me to have love in my heart. I was "stung" by the Love Bug.
Sharon and I dated seriously throughout high school. I went away to college as Sharon was finishing her senior year in high school. Our love, which was blooming, was only matched in size by our long-distance telephone bills.
The next year, Sharon joined me at the University of Texas. We were so happy. We thought we were at the top of the world. We thought our lives were set. That was true until that eventful evening when in a split second our lives changed forever.
On February 18, 1981, we were studying at the library of the University. It was late and Sharon told me that she had to return to her dormitory to go to sleep. We slid into my car and headed toward her dorm, but, unfortunately, my gas gauge was registering "empty." I pulled into a nearby convenience store, borrowed $2 from Sharon, and walked into the store to pay for the gas.
Things do not always work out as one plans them. Unfortunately, the store was in the midst of a robbery, and one of the thieves forced me into the cooler. He followed me, pushed me to the floor, and calmly shot me in the back of the head -- execution style!
The story does not end there. Yes, the criminal thought I was dead; thus eliminating any witness to the crime. However, when the thieves left the store, I still had a faint pulse.
Very few people believed I would remain alive much longer. That is why the police transferred my case to the Homicide division. That is also why the neurosurgeon when he was awakened at his home to see me at the hospital came quickly but returned home as he believed an operation would be futile.
However, when the doctor returned to the hospital in the morning, he was shocked to see that I was still alive. He told my parents that an operation was necessary, but he added that he would be surprised if I survived the surgery.
I fooled all of the medical experts and survived the surgery. However, the surgeon warned my parents that even though I was still breathing I would probably never be able to communicate with anyone or understand anyone who was attempting to communicate with me. Basically, the surgeon stated, I would be "a vegetable."
Hearing those words, my father told Sharon, "Get on with your life."
Sharon quickly replied, "Mike is my life."
Even though we were not yet married, Sharon believed in the vows, "in sickness and in health." She dropped out of college for one semester to be with me at the Rehabilitation Hospital in Houston where I was eventually transferred. Sharon was spending her time with her "drooling boyfriend in the hospital" while other college freshmen were spending their time at parties.
Eventually, Sharon returned to Austin to continue her college education. Once again we had enormous phone bills.
My goal was to also return to Austin, to the University of Texas, to be with Sharon. Eighteen months after no one thought I would survive, I accomplished that goal. One of the primary reasons was ... Sharon; my love, who refused to give up or give in.
Four years after returning to college I graduated. For me, that meant I could finally propose to Sharon, my light at the end of the dark tunnel. She was the one who would always encourage me to look forward and not to focus on the past.
On a beautiful day in May, Sharon and I exchanged vows and were married. We were meant to be together. We had dated for nine long and eventful years, but I realized at the wedding that it was worth everything. Sharon was truly my soulmate.
We have been married for many years and we have a beautiful daughter, Shawn. We have experienced so much -- some bad, but more, much more, good.
This is not merely a "love letter" to my wife. Rather, it is the story of a girl's overcoming everyone's "rational" thoughts to stay behind with her critically injured boyfriend. To me that shows what kind of woman Sharon is--a beauty both inside and out. Further, it shows the lesson of never giving up on one's dreams. I give Sharon all the credit for my recovery--not me. I don't know where I would be without her--definitely not where I am today.
Sharon, I love you so very much.
Michael Segal, (c)2003 all rights reserved
We continued to push and push, but there was no getting my car "unstuck" from the mud. Sharon, my date, was revving the car's engine while Jeff and I were pushing and pushing. Finally, I said, "Enough!" Embarrassed, I approached Sharon as she sat behind the wheel of my mother's red station wagon. Before I could speak I noticed the gear on the car: IT WAS SET ON "NEUTRAL!"
I set the gear to "drive," instructed Sharon to wait until I gave her the signal to press down on the accelerator, and then went back to help Jeff push the car out of the mud.
That was our first date. Even though it resulted in my getting mud on my slacks, Sharon caused me to have love in my heart. I was "stung" by the Love Bug.
Sharon and I dated seriously throughout high school. I went away to college as Sharon was finishing her senior year in high school. Our love, which was blooming, was only matched in size by our long-distance telephone bills.
The next year, Sharon joined me at the University of Texas. We were so happy. We thought we were at the top of the world. We thought our lives were set. That was true until that eventful evening when in a split second our lives changed forever.
On February 18, 1981, we were studying at the library of the University. It was late and Sharon told me that she had to return to her dormitory to go to sleep. We slid into my car and headed toward her dorm, but, unfortunately, my gas gauge was registering "empty." I pulled into a nearby convenience store, borrowed $2 from Sharon, and walked into the store to pay for the gas.
Things do not always work out as one plans them. Unfortunately, the store was in the midst of a robbery, and one of the thieves forced me into the cooler. He followed me, pushed me to the floor, and calmly shot me in the back of the head -- execution style!
The story does not end there. Yes, the criminal thought I was dead; thus eliminating any witness to the crime. However, when the thieves left the store, I still had a faint pulse.
Very few people believed I would remain alive much longer. That is why the police transferred my case to the Homicide division. That is also why the neurosurgeon when he was awakened at his home to see me at the hospital came quickly but returned home as he believed an operation would be futile.
However, when the doctor returned to the hospital in the morning, he was shocked to see that I was still alive. He told my parents that an operation was necessary, but he added that he would be surprised if I survived the surgery.
I fooled all of the medical experts and survived the surgery. However, the surgeon warned my parents that even though I was still breathing I would probably never be able to communicate with anyone or understand anyone who was attempting to communicate with me. Basically, the surgeon stated, I would be "a vegetable."
Hearing those words, my father told Sharon, "Get on with your life."
Sharon quickly replied, "Mike is my life."
Even though we were not yet married, Sharon believed in the vows, "in sickness and in health." She dropped out of college for one semester to be with me at the Rehabilitation Hospital in Houston where I was eventually transferred. Sharon was spending her time with her "drooling boyfriend in the hospital" while other college freshmen were spending their time at parties.
Eventually, Sharon returned to Austin to continue her college education. Once again we had enormous phone bills.
My goal was to also return to Austin, to the University of Texas, to be with Sharon. Eighteen months after no one thought I would survive, I accomplished that goal. One of the primary reasons was ... Sharon; my love, who refused to give up or give in.
Four years after returning to college I graduated. For me, that meant I could finally propose to Sharon, my light at the end of the dark tunnel. She was the one who would always encourage me to look forward and not to focus on the past.
On a beautiful day in May, Sharon and I exchanged vows and were married. We were meant to be together. We had dated for nine long and eventful years, but I realized at the wedding that it was worth everything. Sharon was truly my soulmate.
We have been married for many years and we have a beautiful daughter, Shawn. We have experienced so much -- some bad, but more, much more, good.
This is not merely a "love letter" to my wife. Rather, it is the story of a girl's overcoming everyone's "rational" thoughts to stay behind with her critically injured boyfriend. To me that shows what kind of woman Sharon is--a beauty both inside and out. Further, it shows the lesson of never giving up on one's dreams. I give Sharon all the credit for my recovery--not me. I don't know where I would be without her--definitely not where I am today.
Sharon, I love you so very much.
Michael Segal, (c)2003 all rights reserved
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Courtesy Is Kindness in Action
As a society we have become almost obsessed with identifying and asserting our rights - to think, say, and do what we want. That's not surprising, given the history of our country and the prominent role the Constitution and Bill of Rights have played in shaping our culture.
We have a right to be unkind, thoughtless, and disrespectful - but it isn't right. Ralph Waldo Emerson pointed out, "Life is short but there is always time for courtesy."
The idea is to act in ways that make the people we are dealing with feel valued. Courtesy is kindness in action.
It starts with good manners - saying please, thank you, and excuse me. But real courtesy involves more thoughtful ways of showing respect. Courtesy is a form of kindness. It matters how we address people and how we greet them, as well as how we eat, talk, and cough in their presence.
Courtesy involves remembering important occasions, buying thoughtful gifts, and sending personal thank-you notes.
Making people feel important is part of courtesy, so it's important to remember that whether or not people remember what we say or do, they do remember how we made them feel.
Make eye contact, truly listen, and show genuine interest in the lives of others by asking them questions and remembering their answers. A good start is to keep in mind H. Jackson Brown's insight: "Everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something."
Always be kinder than necessary because you can never be too kind.
Michael Josephson
We have a right to be unkind, thoughtless, and disrespectful - but it isn't right. Ralph Waldo Emerson pointed out, "Life is short but there is always time for courtesy."
The idea is to act in ways that make the people we are dealing with feel valued. Courtesy is kindness in action.
It starts with good manners - saying please, thank you, and excuse me. But real courtesy involves more thoughtful ways of showing respect. Courtesy is a form of kindness. It matters how we address people and how we greet them, as well as how we eat, talk, and cough in their presence.
Courtesy involves remembering important occasions, buying thoughtful gifts, and sending personal thank-you notes.
Making people feel important is part of courtesy, so it's important to remember that whether or not people remember what we say or do, they do remember how we made them feel.
Make eye contact, truly listen, and show genuine interest in the lives of others by asking them questions and remembering their answers. A good start is to keep in mind H. Jackson Brown's insight: "Everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something."
Always be kinder than necessary because you can never be too kind.
Michael Josephson
Friday, January 21, 2011
Daring to Take Risks
The first time anything new and creative is proposed, it gets labeled. And the label put on these novel things is likely to be "risky." Can't you just hear it?
"Let me get this straight, Orville. You and Wilbur are building a machine that will do what? Heavier-than-air flying machines are the riskiest hoax anybody ever palmed off on two gullible boys like you Wrights. Get a real job!"
Or maybe it was somebody's harebrained idea of talking pictures, black and white children attending the same school, or people walking on the moon. More than one person was berated simply for giving voice to such "silly" ideas.
It turns out that some of the people who dared to propose such outlandish possibilities are now regarded as geniuses - revolutionaries - heroes. And it was only because they dared to question others and to question themselves. They challenged the limitations others were willing to take for granted.
There is something in your profession or business, your family or church that could be done better. A situation could be more productive. A relationship could be healthier. An objective could be clarified. Some lofty ideal to which all in the group give lip service could actually be implemented. But I warn you up front: Like restoring a car or house, it will take twice as long as you thought, cost far more than you anticipated, and strain every important relationship in your life!
Only you can decide if it will be worth it to undertake something so ambitious and costly. There will be false starts. There will be embarrassing mistakes along the way. But the potential outcome could be as important to your personal situation as the achievements of the Wright brothers, Rosa Parks, and Neil Armstrong were to their time and place.
The problem with our world is not that there are no more frontiers to challenge and conquer. It's that there are too few explorers. There are too few people willing to ask the obvious questions and challenge the traditional wisdom. In a word, too few of us want to take the risks that could make us look stupid.
If you are fortunate enough to have a dream in your heart, be willing to make mistakes in pursuit of it. Be a risk-taker. You just might change the world.
Rubel Shelly
Rubel Shelly is a Preacher and Professor of Religion and Philosophy located in Rochester Hills, Michigan. In addition to church and academic responsibilities, he has worked actively with such community projects as Habitat for Humanity, American Red Cross, From Nashville With Love, Metro (Nashville) Public Schools, Faith Family Medical Clinic, and Operation Andrew Ministries.
"Let me get this straight, Orville. You and Wilbur are building a machine that will do what? Heavier-than-air flying machines are the riskiest hoax anybody ever palmed off on two gullible boys like you Wrights. Get a real job!"
Or maybe it was somebody's harebrained idea of talking pictures, black and white children attending the same school, or people walking on the moon. More than one person was berated simply for giving voice to such "silly" ideas.
It turns out that some of the people who dared to propose such outlandish possibilities are now regarded as geniuses - revolutionaries - heroes. And it was only because they dared to question others and to question themselves. They challenged the limitations others were willing to take for granted.
There is something in your profession or business, your family or church that could be done better. A situation could be more productive. A relationship could be healthier. An objective could be clarified. Some lofty ideal to which all in the group give lip service could actually be implemented. But I warn you up front: Like restoring a car or house, it will take twice as long as you thought, cost far more than you anticipated, and strain every important relationship in your life!
Only you can decide if it will be worth it to undertake something so ambitious and costly. There will be false starts. There will be embarrassing mistakes along the way. But the potential outcome could be as important to your personal situation as the achievements of the Wright brothers, Rosa Parks, and Neil Armstrong were to their time and place.
The problem with our world is not that there are no more frontiers to challenge and conquer. It's that there are too few explorers. There are too few people willing to ask the obvious questions and challenge the traditional wisdom. In a word, too few of us want to take the risks that could make us look stupid.
If you are fortunate enough to have a dream in your heart, be willing to make mistakes in pursuit of it. Be a risk-taker. You just might change the world.
Rubel Shelly
Rubel Shelly is a Preacher and Professor of Religion and Philosophy located in Rochester Hills, Michigan. In addition to church and academic responsibilities, he has worked actively with such community projects as Habitat for Humanity, American Red Cross, From Nashville With Love, Metro (Nashville) Public Schools, Faith Family Medical Clinic, and Operation Andrew Ministries.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Nice True Story- the boy who never gave up!!
This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well
worth the read.
worth the read.
At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is
Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des
Moines , Iowa . I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano
lessons - something I have done for over 30 years.
During those years I found that children have many levels of musical
ability,and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a
prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. However, I have also
had my share of what I call 'musically challenged' pupils - one such
pupil being Robby..
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off
for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys)
begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said
that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano,
so I took him as a student.
Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it
was a hopeless endeavour. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of
tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his
scales and some elementary piano pieces that I require all mystudents to
learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and
tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he would always
say 'My mom's going to hear me play someday'. But to me, it seemed
hopeless, he just did not have any inborn ability.
I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or
waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but
never dropped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons.. I thought about
calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had
decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped
coming - he was a bad avertisement for my teaching!
calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had
decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped
coming - he was a bad avertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes.To
my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in
the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that
because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify. He told me that
his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons,
but that he had been practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to
play' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the
recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me
saying that it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed
with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program,
just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a
finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might do would come at the
end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance
through my 'curtain closer'.
Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been
practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His clothes
were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater
through it.
'Why wasn't he dressed up like the other students?' I thought 'Why
didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special
night?' Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he
announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No. 21 in C
Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light
on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from
pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords
that Mozart demands were magnificent!
Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone
was on their feet in wild applause! Overcome and in tears, I ran up on
stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you play
like that Robby, how did you do it?' Through the microphone Robby
explained: 'Well, Miss Honor .... remember I told you that my mom was
sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And
well ..... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever
heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.'
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from
Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to foster care,
I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myself
then how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. No,
I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy ...... of
Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the
meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be
even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.
Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P
Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Lessons Learned From Merlin Written December 23, 2003
For the last hour, I've been scuffling about my kitchen in my oversized UGG slippers (it's not a hazard as long as I don't try the stairs), whipping up a sugar cookie recipe that requires a full pound of Crisco, and wondering how in the world I'm going to write this year's Christmas novella.
For those of you who've been the recipient of said novella for the last - uh - 18 years or so, I'm well aware that last year's Armitage family Christmas letter was conspicuously missing. I just can't possibly let you down again, heaven forbid, but HOW do I explain this year's proceedings?
I'm going to start with an event that occurred today. It's not meant to be morbid and it IS directly connected to one of the more memorable events of my year, so kindly bear with me.
Today, Merlin came home to me by way of a UPS truck. If you haven't heard already, my beloved, forever shedding Great Pyrenees partner in crime these last 11 years passed on to another form of life on December 8th. He died because half of his heart had given out, proving my suspicions from his puppyhood that he, like the Whoville Grinch, had a heart that was simply several sizes too big.
After I kissed his nose for the last time, I arranged to have his ashes delivered to me, which was supposed to take a day or two at most. Instead, they called me yesterday (14 days later) to tell me they'd accidentally tried to deliver him to another family and that he was still on the UPS truck, on his way to me this time. Today, true to form, a sweating UPS truck driver sprinted to my door with Merlin solidly lodged under his arm.
As I carried Merlin (in his new state) upstairs, I couldn't help but chuckle. Nothing in the entire world caused greater gnashing-of-teeth for Merlin than the UPS truck and its attached men in brown. It was the only single thing that taunted him into trampling down fences and sprinting for blocks down rush-hour traffic streets. and here's how he ended up, lodged in the bowels of the evil incarnate monster itself (AND during the holiday season to boot) in herkyjerky, stop-and-go fashion for two full weeks.
That, my friend, is Karma. Take it from Merlin: If you're chasing after anything in life with some level of misdirected anger, that very thing will likely get the better of you in the end.
That being said, I'll give Merlin credit for helping me maintain misdirected anger over the last 11 years - even this last year. Merlin was a high-spirited, conniving creature who liked to skitter around on his tippy-toes and create instant wainscotting in every home by sliding drooly, dirty tennis balls along the wall. But he'd also follow me from room to room when he knew I was upset until I'd finally flump down and throw my arms around him. He loved me unconditionally with great warmth and a giving soul that knew no other way to be. And that was a lesson I did, indeed, learn from Merlin.
This last year didn't start well. As the New Year began, I found myself struggling with a business I didn't really like, and paying rent I didn't really want to pay anymore. So, 'round about March, Merlin and I had a talk and decided to stop with the misdirected anger and start creating a better story.
And so we did. As I say in all the stuff I write, "If you don't like the situation you're in, recognize you created it and fix it." It was time to take my own medicine. Mer and I drove all around the town of Laguna in my little convertible until we found our new home. With the move made in March to a lovely place just a block from the beach, I then tackled the not liking-my-business issue with grim determination. Fact is, if you're not doing what you love to do every day, you're cheating yourself. I knew there were too many good and exciting people out there to work with and as I focused on THIS fact, those very people started coming in the door.
It wasn't until July that I got up the nerve to e-mail the one person I wanted to work with most - my most favorite past client. This client and I have tried and failed at working together twice before, and hitting that initial "SEND" button this time around wasn't easy. Ten minutes later, however, we were on our way to working together again and now we're back on track and working quite harmoniously. I delight in what I do every day for this man's company. It's not easy and it's got its tenuous, warbly-chin, pounding headache moments. But, I delight in it. Pure and simple as that. It's supposed to be that simple, I believe.
On a connected note - I've also "happened" upon a couple solid web programming teams, both of which are quite capable of handling all my client urgencies. What I find most amazing about these web teams is that I was very solidly prepared to NOT like working with them after all the experiences I'd had through the years with not-so-great programming teams. But, again, it's all about focusing on what I want to expand, not on what I don't want to expand. Fortunately, somewhere along the way, I also realized that chasing programmers down rush-hour streets while barking my fool head off was only going to succeed in getting ME killed - yet another lesson I learned from Merlin, who always and eventually gave up the chase with a shrug.
On the opposite end of the work spectrum, I somehow ended up in an outrigger canoe club on the wild ocean this summer. How a landlocked Denver girl ever found her way to jumping in and out of a Hawaiian-style 6-man canoe is something I still can't quite fathom myself, much less explain to anyone else. My friend, Deb, a fellow spin-class victim, made me promise to try it and, after my first grudging day, I was hooked. Line and sinker, I might add.
What I thought would be something kind of friendly and social and interactive. like a bowling league on Monday nights. turned out to be a highly competitive 7-month season that entailed a minimum of 15-hours of weekly practice and full days of racing just about every weekend. I was the "stroker" - the Seat #1 gal - for my novice team and we happily and surprisingly won more than we lost. In August, we were imported into the "big girls' boats" - the gals who'd been paddling for years. In our last race of the season, we paddled 31 miles to Catalina Island in about 4 hours.
Aside from this odd sport opening up a host of uncommon injuries and new battle scars, the sport also opened up a whole new community of fun, athletic people to me - people from all walks of life who never would have crossed my path otherwise. This, coupled with my ever-lasting and loving friends in Denver and around the continent, my burgeoning group of wonderful friends from spin class, and my growing community of buddies and neighbors in this small town of Laguna Beach has made for a most enjoyable and busy year. I can't say I remember enjoying myself so much - ever.
So, here I sit on Christmas Eve's Eve with Merlin perched on my lap. (This must be nirvana for Merlin - he is, at last, a lap dog.) And his lessons are here in my head:
. If you chase after something in anger, it will find a way to bite you back.
. Be sure to follow your closest friends from room to room when you know they're upset.
. Give generously of your warmth and soul. You've got more where that came from.
. Be the first to press the "SEND" button when you haven't talked to someone in a while.
. If you're trying to chase something off because it seems like a threat to you, it might be better to stop, shrug and give it up.
. Delight in your days. It's supposed to be that simple.
. And lastly, never lose sight of your family and friends. They're the home you want to return to, even if the only way to get there is by UPS truck.
Diane Armitage
For those of you who've been the recipient of said novella for the last - uh - 18 years or so, I'm well aware that last year's Armitage family Christmas letter was conspicuously missing. I just can't possibly let you down again, heaven forbid, but HOW do I explain this year's proceedings?
I'm going to start with an event that occurred today. It's not meant to be morbid and it IS directly connected to one of the more memorable events of my year, so kindly bear with me.
Today, Merlin came home to me by way of a UPS truck. If you haven't heard already, my beloved, forever shedding Great Pyrenees partner in crime these last 11 years passed on to another form of life on December 8th. He died because half of his heart had given out, proving my suspicions from his puppyhood that he, like the Whoville Grinch, had a heart that was simply several sizes too big.
After I kissed his nose for the last time, I arranged to have his ashes delivered to me, which was supposed to take a day or two at most. Instead, they called me yesterday (14 days later) to tell me they'd accidentally tried to deliver him to another family and that he was still on the UPS truck, on his way to me this time. Today, true to form, a sweating UPS truck driver sprinted to my door with Merlin solidly lodged under his arm.
As I carried Merlin (in his new state) upstairs, I couldn't help but chuckle. Nothing in the entire world caused greater gnashing-of-teeth for Merlin than the UPS truck and its attached men in brown. It was the only single thing that taunted him into trampling down fences and sprinting for blocks down rush-hour traffic streets. and here's how he ended up, lodged in the bowels of the evil incarnate monster itself (AND during the holiday season to boot) in herkyjerky, stop-and-go fashion for two full weeks.
That, my friend, is Karma. Take it from Merlin: If you're chasing after anything in life with some level of misdirected anger, that very thing will likely get the better of you in the end.
That being said, I'll give Merlin credit for helping me maintain misdirected anger over the last 11 years - even this last year. Merlin was a high-spirited, conniving creature who liked to skitter around on his tippy-toes and create instant wainscotting in every home by sliding drooly, dirty tennis balls along the wall. But he'd also follow me from room to room when he knew I was upset until I'd finally flump down and throw my arms around him. He loved me unconditionally with great warmth and a giving soul that knew no other way to be. And that was a lesson I did, indeed, learn from Merlin.
This last year didn't start well. As the New Year began, I found myself struggling with a business I didn't really like, and paying rent I didn't really want to pay anymore. So, 'round about March, Merlin and I had a talk and decided to stop with the misdirected anger and start creating a better story.
And so we did. As I say in all the stuff I write, "If you don't like the situation you're in, recognize you created it and fix it." It was time to take my own medicine. Mer and I drove all around the town of Laguna in my little convertible until we found our new home. With the move made in March to a lovely place just a block from the beach, I then tackled the not liking-my-business issue with grim determination. Fact is, if you're not doing what you love to do every day, you're cheating yourself. I knew there were too many good and exciting people out there to work with and as I focused on THIS fact, those very people started coming in the door.
It wasn't until July that I got up the nerve to e-mail the one person I wanted to work with most - my most favorite past client. This client and I have tried and failed at working together twice before, and hitting that initial "SEND" button this time around wasn't easy. Ten minutes later, however, we were on our way to working together again and now we're back on track and working quite harmoniously. I delight in what I do every day for this man's company. It's not easy and it's got its tenuous, warbly-chin, pounding headache moments. But, I delight in it. Pure and simple as that. It's supposed to be that simple, I believe.
On a connected note - I've also "happened" upon a couple solid web programming teams, both of which are quite capable of handling all my client urgencies. What I find most amazing about these web teams is that I was very solidly prepared to NOT like working with them after all the experiences I'd had through the years with not-so-great programming teams. But, again, it's all about focusing on what I want to expand, not on what I don't want to expand. Fortunately, somewhere along the way, I also realized that chasing programmers down rush-hour streets while barking my fool head off was only going to succeed in getting ME killed - yet another lesson I learned from Merlin, who always and eventually gave up the chase with a shrug.
On the opposite end of the work spectrum, I somehow ended up in an outrigger canoe club on the wild ocean this summer. How a landlocked Denver girl ever found her way to jumping in and out of a Hawaiian-style 6-man canoe is something I still can't quite fathom myself, much less explain to anyone else. My friend, Deb, a fellow spin-class victim, made me promise to try it and, after my first grudging day, I was hooked. Line and sinker, I might add.
What I thought would be something kind of friendly and social and interactive. like a bowling league on Monday nights. turned out to be a highly competitive 7-month season that entailed a minimum of 15-hours of weekly practice and full days of racing just about every weekend. I was the "stroker" - the Seat #1 gal - for my novice team and we happily and surprisingly won more than we lost. In August, we were imported into the "big girls' boats" - the gals who'd been paddling for years. In our last race of the season, we paddled 31 miles to Catalina Island in about 4 hours.
Aside from this odd sport opening up a host of uncommon injuries and new battle scars, the sport also opened up a whole new community of fun, athletic people to me - people from all walks of life who never would have crossed my path otherwise. This, coupled with my ever-lasting and loving friends in Denver and around the continent, my burgeoning group of wonderful friends from spin class, and my growing community of buddies and neighbors in this small town of Laguna Beach has made for a most enjoyable and busy year. I can't say I remember enjoying myself so much - ever.
So, here I sit on Christmas Eve's Eve with Merlin perched on my lap. (This must be nirvana for Merlin - he is, at last, a lap dog.) And his lessons are here in my head:
. If you chase after something in anger, it will find a way to bite you back.
. Be sure to follow your closest friends from room to room when you know they're upset.
. Give generously of your warmth and soul. You've got more where that came from.
. Be the first to press the "SEND" button when you haven't talked to someone in a while.
. If you're trying to chase something off because it seems like a threat to you, it might be better to stop, shrug and give it up.
. Delight in your days. It's supposed to be that simple.
. And lastly, never lose sight of your family and friends. They're the home you want to return to, even if the only way to get there is by UPS truck.
Diane Armitage
Monday, January 3, 2011
Lossing wieght for the New Year!!
If you are having trouble with over-eating, keeping your portions under control, or with sugar cravings - then please read this whole email.
I am about to reveal a weird technique that clinical studies have shown increases the amount of weight you can lose by 146%, and more importantly. this is over the long term.
And it isn't about willpower, discipline, a fad diet, or taking a bunch of worthless pills.
You and I both know these are a waste of time and money.
How the Biggest Loser Really Lost His Belly Fat
Recently, I found out that Matt Hoover (winner of NBC's, "The Biggest Loser" season two) tried this exact technique and system.
When I first heard this, I thought to myself, "But that guy already lost a ton of weight, why would he use the program?"
Turns out, that after the show was over he was no longer able to eat like he did on the show (no personal chefs, no trainer, and no cameras to make sure he was on track). So he gained a lot of the weight back and was ashamed of himself.
In his own words, he simply could not avoid temptation.
Well, a couple of months ago, he tried this weird technique, and for the first time in his life, he is eating right and exercising without the star treatment. He is doing it on his own, and says it has been easy. By the way, he has also lost over 40 pounds of fat!
The technique is called medical hypnosis, and this specific program has been getting normal people just like you results for almost 5 years.
Cynthia Roderick, a photographer from South Deerfield, Massachusetts is one example:
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"I had an addiction to sugar and my weight problems were so severe I was thinking of bypass surgery. I tried hypnosis programs in the past. Some programs made me tense and uncomfortable; the power of others seemed to fade away.
Within the first week I was getting obvious results. Since I started the program I've lost 30 pounds and I keep dropping them. My addiction to sugar is pretty much gone and decisions to turn down foods are easy."
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Terrisa Harding, from Sapulpa, Oklahoma had this to say:
"I was always a thin person until my mid-thirties, then the weight began to creep up until I had gained over 30 lbs. I tried the Enjoying Weight Loss program and since being on it I've lost (so far permanent) over 20 lbs. I find I automatically eat much more healthfully, like more fruits and vegetables, I don't feel deprived and I'm energized. I feel GREAT!"
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If you're skeptical, I understand
Many people are when they first hear about this. But I wouldn't waste your time (or mine) with programs that don't work.
It's a proven technique endorsed by the American Medical Association and the British Medical Association. What's more, it works. I've seen people use medical hypnosis to get focused on their diet and follow it with almost no effort at all.
It's very easy to do. Instead of fighting and resisting your diet, you'll feel good about what you're doing and stick with your program without even thinking about it.
I've read many of the studies on medical hypnosis for weight loss and the results speak for themselves. In one, researchers split people following a diet into two groups. One used medical hypnosis, the other didn't. The group who used medical hypnosis lost an average of 17 pounds. The group that didn't lost an average of only 0.5 pounds.
That's not surprising. Being committed to the program you're following makes all the difference - especially over the long term.
Can Increase Results by Over 146%
A study published in the Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology shows medical hypnosis does just that: Improves your results over the long term.
Their study found adding hypnosis increased weight loss by an average of 97% during treatment. More importantly, medical hypnosis increased effectiveness AFTER treatment by over 146%.
Clearly, this technique is even more effective over time. And as you know, long-term commitment to any diet program is the key to lasting fat loss. You can read more on a webpage I will send you to below.
Created by a Doctor.
The best medical hypnosis program was designed by America's leading expert in the field, Dr. Roberta Temes. In fact, she "wrote the book" on the subject. She's the editor of the first hypnosis textbook used in medical schools, Medical Hypnosis. (Psychiatrists in training are learning her techniques for medical hypnosis!)
Dr. Temes is also on the faculty of the Psychiatry Department in the Medical School of the SUNY Health Science Center. She's also involved with research on the behavioral factors involved with long-term weight loss.
Takes Just 20 Minutes a Day
Best of all, her program takes only 20 minutes per day and, simply by listening to relaxing CDs, may help you automatically follow your program and regain your health.
This may not work for everyone, but it is something you should consider if your previous attempts haven't been successful because you've resorted to previous bad habits.
Here are some of the experiences you may uncover if you go through Dr. Temes seven session program:
* Cravings can be reduced instantaneously,
allowing you to stop binging before you start
*New neural pathways will be created that
empower you to replace unhealthy eating habits
with healthy ones
* Experience effortless motivation without
relying on willpower
*Your desire for sodas will be eliminated and
replaced with a craving for WATER!
* Pounds will melt away as you automatically eat
the right foods and right portions, while making
exercise a part of your every day routine.
Have an Open Mind
Keeping an open mind allows you to grow in spirit and successfully overcome challenges that may have been haunting you your whole life.
The Hypnosis Network, the publishers of the program (and some people I have now worked with for a while), are very confident that this will work.
Because of this, they are discounting the program for my readers, adding some very useful bonuses and are going to allow you to try it for just the cost of shipping.
To find out how it can help you drop fat and keep it off, just click the link below.
http://www.hypnosisnetwork.com/hypnosis/ewl/special?hn=2112
I think it is a no brainer.
To Your Good Health,
Brian Proctor
P.S. Here are some more examples of how this program has helped people just like you.
"I am now down 20 pounds and still have not had any problems with stress eating (my lifetime habit is to overeat). I am also walking close to 5,000 steps per day now (a little over 2.5 miles) and into a size 16 from a 20/22 and people are finally beginning to notice. I personally thank you for your program even though I don't understand how it works. I am starting to like who I see in the mirror."
Syndi Ellison
Advertising & Finance Manager
Washington State Magazine
"I have used the program for just 10 days and have lost 6 lbs. What is most amazing after all my failed attempts at weight loss is the ease of sticking with my program since using the CD's! For the first time in my adult life I feel like I am in control of my response to food, and believe I am incorporating all those healthy eating habits that have eluded me in the past. It feels wonderful to go through the day without obsessing over food, and feeling fulfilled rather than deprived. I can definitely see these as lifetime, lifestyle changes. Thank you for the wonderful tool!"
Angela Roberts
Somerville, New Jersey
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A Tribute To A Baker
"HUUP...ONE, HUUP...TWO, HUUP...THREE..."Those melodious orders sounded like the commands of a tough marine drill sergeant. However, in reality the man's name was Tom Williams and he was an executive with the Houston Oilers (of the National Football League) and a world class trainer of famous athletes -- Earl Campbell, Darrell Green, Mike Singletary, Hakeem Olajuwon -- to name but a few.
During the off season he operated a Kolache shop, baking cookies and meat filled delights.
Approximately 200 yards from this Kolache shop was his famous "Hill", a very steep embankment, which led to the bayou. Tom would have his athletes train on that hill, running up and down to build stamina or to help rebuild muscles or ligaments damaged after an injury or surgery.
As for me, I had always wanted to be a pro athlete, but early on I realized that I was not quick enoughnor tall enough to become one, so I focused my dreams on becoming an Orthopedic Surgeon, helping my athletic idols to recover from devastating injuries.
That dream, however, was smashed during my sophomore year in college when I was seriously injured as an innocent victim of a convenience store robbery. I was shot in the back of the head, and very few thought I would even survive. However, many months later, after several surgeries and lengthy hospital rehabilitation programs, I met Tom, the eternal optimist.
The first day my family and I encountered Tom he was barking out orders for his athletes on the "Hill". He told my parents he could definitely help me, but I would have to discipline myself to work four straight hours every single day, including weekends.
At first, my parents would watch Tom work with me in the back of his Kolache shop. Tom would cover the tables he would normally use to knead his dough, and now would "knead" my muscles, massage my limp right arm, and struggle with me as I learned to walk again.
Then, one day, Tom barked, "Mike, let's go to the 'Hill'."
I was scared as I limped toward the bayou, and my parents were equally petrified. The "Hill" was so steep that I thought even a Billy goat would have difficulty trying to climb it.
Initially, Tom ordered two husky athletes to lift me under my arms and "drag" me down the hill. When we got to the bottom, one of the athletes screamed up to Tom, "What do you want us to do now?" Tom calmly replied, "Drag him back up."
At that point, my father, who by profession is a rabbi, told my mother that he thought Tom was going to kill me and they should get me away from him as soon as possible.
My father, wanting to be polite, thanked Tom and stated that we had to go home. But Tom replied, "It's only 2 o'clock, and Mike is to be here until 5, and by the way, bring him a little earlier tomorrow."
Even though my father was adamant about leaving, my mother truly felt that if Tom could help "million dollar athletes" recover, he could surely help her son.
My father went home, never returning to the Kolache store because he told my mother, "Tom is going to kill Mike," and my mother never volunteered any information to my father about my progress with Tom as the days wore on.
One day, a number of weeks later, Tom called my father at home and said, "Father, this is Tom Williams and you need to get here fast!" With that, Tom slammed the phone down.
My father thought I was dead or badly injured, the victim of a severe injury while tumbling down that "Hill." He quickly sped toward Tom's shop, jumped out of his car, and noticed many people huddled near the corner of the "Hill." With great trepidation my father peered over the "Hill" and saw me slowly climbing the "Hill" -- alive. When I reached the top of the "Hill" I quickly turned around as Tom instructed me and went back down to the bottom, to the bayou. Tears welled up in my father's eyes as Tom approached him and said, "Rabbi, you might give great sermons, but you don't practice what you preach. You tell everyone to have faith, but you did not have faith -- faith in me, faith in your son, and faith in God. You simply said, 'I give up,' and you went home."
My father pondered seriously as to what Tom had just said and watched as I slowly reached the edge of the "Hill" on my return trip. At that moment, with tears of great joy, my father and I fell into each other's arms and embraced one another.
That was just one of the many lessons I learned from Tom over the next few years. Even though I still have many physical disabilities as a result of the gunshot wound, the "Hill" taught me that even the impossible could become the possible.
Everyone in life has his own "Hill" to climb, some small, some large. On that day Tom taught me the most important lesson of my life: "Never give in; never give up."
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Even though Tom was a world class trainer of athletes, he learned that his true love was helping "ordinary" people, and soon after my success on the "Hill" Tom opened a Rehabilitation Center where he worked with spinal cord and head injured and stroke patients. In the "old days," Tom would use only a simple table in the back of his Kolache shop on which he prepared his pastries to help his clients. Now, he had a state of the art, modern Rehabilitation Center along with his own man-made "Hill" so Tom could encourage many more to defy the experts.
Tom received referrals from all over the country for he had a special ability to make patients want to excel. His patients improved and his Center was a huge success.
For the next few years I would regularly go to the Center, not only to exercise but more importantly to work out for the "Master," Tom.
I had developed a strong emotional connection with Tom. He had extended to me a lifeline to enjoy life once again which many physicians and therapists stated no longer existed.
However, later Tom became extremely ill with cancer and passed away. The funeral was huge. Many of his athletes were there to say their last "good byes" and "thank yous." I was an honorary pallbearer because his family thought that our relationship was a special and unique one.
After everyone left the cemetery I went up to Tom's grave to utter my final prayer and statement of thankfulness that such a wonderful man had been a part of my life. As I glanced at the inscription on the tombstone I read:
Forever Loved In The Hearts Of Those He Touched
Tom Williams
April 11, 1927 -- June 11, 1995
At that very moment I realized why we were so deeply connected: April 11 is also my birthday!
(c)2001 by Michael Jordan Segal, MSW
Michael Jordan Segal, who defied all odds after being shot in the head, is a husband, father, social worker, freelance author , and inspirational speaker, sharing his recipe for happiness, recovery and success before conferences and businesses.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
** True Story of Rudolph**
A man named Robert L. May, depressed and brokenhearted,
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.
* MERRY CHRISTMAS 2010*
God Bless You All,
Darlene
Friday, December 17, 2010
It Must Be Raining
The images flash across my television screen as I sit there in the comfort of my home.
"It's that time of year again," I thought to myself.
Then realizing how foolish that was to say, I sat up in my chair and watched closer.
The news reporter was telling the story of one of many food banks in our area that were serving those in need of the basics for the holidays.
This particular place had both food and clothing. Food for the body and warm second hand coats for children.
"It's that time of year again," replayed in my mind.
I meant that throughout the holidays we see such reports over and over, unlike the other 11 months when the same people are hungry, in need of clothing, basic services and a little help with life.
Maybe I said it because I was becoming numb to it all, like watching the same commercials a hundred times.
I was about to feel the real impact of it all.
I was sitting at the counter having breakfast at a local diner the next day.
It's a small "quaint" place. Local people, husband and wife cook and serve.
A man walked in and sat next to me. There is little elbow-room as it is and he was a big fellow.
On top of the milk dispenser is a small television placed there for both the customers enjoyment and the owners when things get slow.
It just so happened that the news was on and once again that same report on the food bank.This time it included more information and a few interviews of some of the people who participated.
There was a little girl looking through the coats. The reporter asked her if she found something that fit.
She turned toward the camera and smiled. She flipped her soft brown hair up over the collar as she pulled and tugged at the front to make sure it would zipper properly.
"I like this store. Mommy said I could have any coat I wanted, but I'm getting this one for my friend. Her daddy won't come here. Mommy says he's too proud. Whatever that means. All I know is Mandy needs a coat."
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the man next to me lower his head. Without looking up he fumbled for a napkin and began to wipe his eyes.
"Incredibly sad, isn't it?" I said.
He didn't respond.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"Hey, don't feel bad, I've shed many tearsthrough the holidays for those who don't have nearly as much as I and I am in no way financially set for life," I told him.
"I'm a writer. I live on my dreams," I added.
He turned toward me. I could still see the dampness of tear filled eyes. He raised his hand to his chest and pointing at himself he said..."I'm Mandy's father. That's the first I've seen that. The little girl goes to school with my daughter."
Oh, my god! My chest tightened, my hands shook and I shared in his tears.
"It must be raining," he joked.
We spoke for a few more minutes about how he felt and what he needed to do. Turns out he's unemployed for more than a year now and doing odd jobs to pay bills.
We said our goodbyes and I approached the register.
I whispered that I wanted his check.
"He only gets coffee," she said.
"Well, here.This is for my meal, his coffee and tell him this is for Mandy. He'll understand."
Many years ago I spoke at my friend's church in Atlanta, The Ark of Salvation. A woman came up to me and said God told her to give me everything she had in her wallet.I was shaken by the thought and began to refuse it.Things were better for me back then. I couldn't justify what she offered.
God spoke to me as I listened to her explain.
"It isn't very much, but Godsaid that it would multiply. Please take it."
I did.I shared the story with Nathaniel Bronner, the pastor of the church and he smiled assuring me I did the right thing.
It was $57. I always carry it with me until this very day.I give it away and replace it. It has indeed multiplied many times.
God is an amazing God Who has never failed to replace that $57 each and every time I use it.
I turned to walk away and another man sitting at the counter grabbed my arm and said..."I overheard your conversation with that man. I'll help him, too."
He then wiped his eyes and said, "He's right. It must be raining."
Bob Perks
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Resolving To Finish Strong
Resolving To Finish Strong By John C. Maxwell
I once heard that 91 million Americans make New Year's Resolutions, but that 70 million Americans break those commitments within a week! Going to a health club seems to confirm the stats. During the first week of January, gyms are packed. All of the treadmills are in use, people are lining up for a turn on the exercise equipment, and it's hard even to find a parking space. Yet, by about the third week of January, you can park in the space nearest the front door and exercise on any machine that suits your preference. What happens between January 1st and January 21st? People demonstrate their unwillingness to finish.
Character, discipline, sacrifice, tenacity-these qualities aren't stylish, but they are sure-fire ingredients for any leader who wishes to finish strong. As we enter the final month of the calendar year, I encourage you to make the most of the remaining weeks in 2010. Live and lead in December so that you'll end this year on a high note and cruise into the New Year with positive momentum.
CHARACTER
Emotions are unreliable allies. One moment they propel us forward, while the next minute they impede our progress. People guided primarily by emotion must feel good before doing right. They make popular choices, choosing whichever route is most convenient. They are concerned about protecting their rights instead of taking care of responsibilities, and they are easily discouraged by adversity.
Emotion might drive us to make a decision, but character, or discipline, is what keeps us going when the journey gets hard. A person with character makes decisions on principle, not on the basis of what is popular. He or she honors commitments instead of catering to convenience. High-character, disciplined individuals work steadily regardless of circumstance, creating their own momentum by dint of a steady work ethic.
SACRIFICE
Being a finisher requires recurring instalments of sacrifice, not a one-time payment. Sacrifice is a leader's constant companion. As influencers, we must give up to go up, ever exchanging our rights for greater responsibility.
I believe most people expect to pay a price to achieve their goals. Yet, many people seem to have a vague concept of sacrifice, viewing it as something distant or far-off. Consequently, when their goals demand a significant investment, people are bewildered and resist giving up anything. If you desire to finish strong, you will need to sacrifice earlier than expected and to give up more than is comfortable.
TENACITY
Pierre and Marie Curie had made 487 experiments to try to separate radium from pitchblende. All had failed. "It can't be done; it can't be done," Pierre Curie lamented. "Maybe in a hundred years it can be done, but never in our lifetime." Madame Curie replied, "If it takes a hundred years it will be a pity, but I dare not do less than work for it so long as I have life." Madame Curie's tenacity goaded the scientists into making another attempt and opened the door to new scientific discovery.
Tenacity means quitting only when the job is done, not when you're tired. Much of life is spent labouring in the trenches. To reach the finish line, you must wade through tedious details, take care of thankless tasks, and tie up thousands of loose ends. Most people tire along the way, settle for second-best, and stop before reaching their goals. However, a select few push on, refusing to stop until they've taken hold of their dreams.
John C. Maxwell
Friday, December 3, 2010
200 Feet At A TimeI
I have the great pleasure of working with young people. They are so full of promise and potential as they stand at the threshold of their adult lives.
Sometimes, though, I'll see a young person struggle with the belief that before they set out for their dream they must first know the precise plan to follow and its exact outcome.
Part of the work I do is to help such a person understand that not knowing is OK; it's not even necessary. And I help them realize that their unique gift is always right there with them; though they might have a little trouble recognizing it. Because sometimes it looks very different than what they were expecting.
That was certainly the case for me...
"You! A model??... You're kidding, right?"
As if it was yesterday, I can still remember the stunned look on her face as I gathered up my courage and admitted my dream to a close high school friend.
But I wasn't kidding. Not only would I become a model, but I had every intention of becoming the world's next supermodel (though I decided that moment probably wasn't the best time to share this particular detail with my friend).
In fairness to her, I should say that most people would have been hard pressed to share my vision. I was by anyone's account less than, shall we say, "glamorous".
Actually I was about as far away from glamorous as one could get. Yes, I was taller than everyone I knew, including the boys in my school. But I was also rail thin, freckle-faced, with frizzy hair and braces. Oh, and did I mention awkward and painfully shy?
No matter. I knew I was going to 'make it'; it was only a question of time. How I would make it was something else entirely. The truth was, I had no idea how I would get from my small town school to the covers of the world's top fashion magazines.
But therein lies the true power of pursuing your dream. It begins with seeing your destination clearly and starting to move towards it, even if you can't say for sure how you will reach it.
Bob Proctor has compared this to driving in a car on a dark night and I agree. All you can ever see is 200 feet at a time by the glow of the headlights, but that's enough to advance you the next 200 feet, and so on all the way to your destination.
Sometimes you may take a fork in the road and discover that your destination changes as a result, and that's OK too. In fact if my name is not a household word today, that's because my own destination changed along the way.
Don't misunderstand-I fully expected to be the world's next supermodel and I did all I knew how towards that end. But early on I realized one crucial fact-I'm not particularly photogenic. And when it comes to supermodels, being very photogenic is pretty much 'Square One'.
The 'light of my headlights' had brought me to the awareness that I would not be an international cover girl. This was a blow to both my ego and my plans. But because I had begun the 'drive', I was about to discover something about myself I hadn't realized beforehand.
My 'fork in the road' presented itself to me a while later in San Francisco, where I was attempting to get a modeling job, or 'booking'-any booking-in print work. I would have been happy to appear in a flyer for the local car wash, but no client seemed to want me.
Then one day Calvin Klein himself came to town to put on a gala fashion show at the San Francisco Opera House. He brought with him several models from New York, but he was holding a casting to select a few local models as well.
Any girl in San Francisco who called herself a model was there, including the most successful and in demand print models I was trying so hard to emulate.
I remember my interview with Calvin Klein. He was smiling and gracious. He asked me to try something on and walk for him, and I did. Then, I watched as his smile grew wider and he booked me on the spot!
And then came the evening of the show. Everything changed for me on that runway. I felt totally natural, at ease and inspired there. I could sense that I had found my 'true place'.
Afterwards people came backstage and asked me where I'd learned to walk like that. I answered, "I don't know!" and it was true. I didn't know because I'd never done it before!
All this time I'd been trying with all my might to be a cover girl when it was now clear to me that runway was my gift. But I never would have known that had I not believed in my original dream and started moving towards it as best I could, '200 feet at a time'.
Soon afterwards I moved to Europe where, unlike San Francisco, 'high fashion' was the look and the runway market was very strong. I went first to Milan and then to Paris, where I still live today.
Ultimately I became an international high fashion runway model, working with top designers such as Armani, Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, Versace, and many others. I enjoyed a fantastic career spanning more than a decade.
I traveled to over 50 countries and have done shows before royalty and heads of state. I met some of the world's most interesting and fascinating people; some of them rich and famous, some completely unknown but rich in other ways.
And I got the education of a lifetime.
None of this would have happened if I had been 'stuck' on just one possible outcome and continued to try and become a top international cover girl at all costs. As Ken Keesey Jr. says "To be upset about what we don't have is to waste what we do have."
Each of us has what I call a 'Unique Package'; that singular combination of our unique inner and outer selves. And through that package comes our gifts.
Discovering what our gifts are and then expressing and sharing them is what we're all here for. There are no 'better' sets of gifts and talents. They are all needed. We are all needed.
Or as the French say, "Il faut de tout pour faire un monde," which translated means, "It takes everyone to make a world."
The dream you have inside is not there by accident. There's a reason it's calling to you.
I firmly believe that if you'll step onto the path of your dream, always giving your best, the Universe will step up and meet you more than half way.
And even if your destination changes, as did mine, I can promise you this: You will definitely have more, do more and above all be more, for having made the journey.
Kim Luret
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