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This topic comprises 3 pages: 1 2 3
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Author
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Topic: Inspiration Stories
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 11-26-2005 01:10 PM
Rated G ![[Smile]](smile.gif)
Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away.
I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, and dish-towel in the other. It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful.
Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more. But then my dad died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of his room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away... never to return. So... while we have it... its best we love it.... and care for it... and fix it when it's broken...... and heal it when it's sick.
This is true.... for marriage..... and children with bad reportcards..... and dogs with bad hips.... and aging parents..... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.
Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with. There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special..... and so, we keep them close!
I received this from someone who thinks I am a 'keeper', so I've sent it to the people I think of in the same way.
Now it's your turn to send this to those people that are "keepers in your life."
Good friends are like stars.... You don't always see them, but you know they are always there.
Keep them close! ![[thumbsup]](graemlins/thumbsup.gif)
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 02-20-2006 01:34 PM
Rated G B.B.
Here's a Kudo to firefighters...
February 17, 2006 - Lincoln, Nebraska - Ap- Firefighters braved sleet, wind and freezing cold to rescue a valentine that got snagged in a tree after a boy sent it into the sky by balloon for his mother, who died of cancer last fall.
Seven-year-old Joel Enriquez had made the valentine, a pink heart with purple heart stickers and the message 'I miss you', for Maria Enriquez at a grief support group.
On Tuesday, the first-grader brought the valentine to his school, attached it to balloons and went outside with his 13-year-old brother and classmates to release the balloons. But as the balloons sailed up, the curly ribbon got tangled on tree branches.
Mary Rowan, the boy's English-language teacher, later told firefighters what had happened, and on Thursday, despite the cold and 20-mph wind, an aerial truck crew pulled into the playground.
Capt. Arnold Jensen climbed 40 feet up an extended ladder and, after a couple of attempts, grabbed the deflated balloons, cut the ribbons and brought down the valentine.
Another firefighter pulled three red balloons from the truck, helped Joel attach the valentine, and the boy released the balloons. This time, they disappeared into the clouds.
"I think she got your valentine," Rowan said...and Joel smiled.
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 03-01-2006 01:22 PM
Rated G
Death is Inevitable
There is an Eastern fable, told long ago, of a traveler overtaken on a plain by an enraged beast. Escaping from the beast he gets into a dry well, but sees at the bottom of the well a dragon that has opened its jaws to swallow him. And the unfortunate man, not daring to climb out lest he should be destroyed by the enraged beast, and not daring to leap to the bottom of the well lest he should be eaten by the dragon, seizes a twig growing in a crack in the well and clings to it. His hands are growing weaker and he feels he will soon have to resign himself to the destruction that awaits him above or below, but still he clings on. Then he sees that two mice, a black one and a white one, go regularly round and round the stem of the twig to which he is clinging and gnaw at it. And soon the twig itself will snap and he will fall into the dragon's jaws. The traveler sees this and knows that he will inevitably perish; but while still hanging he looks around, sees some drops of honey on the leaves of the twig, reaches them with his tongue and licks them. So I too clung to the twig of life, knowing that the dragon of death was inevitably awaiting me, ready to tear me to pieces; and I could not understand why I had fallen into such torment. I tried to lick the honey, which formerly consoled me, but the honey no longer gave me pleasure, and the white and black mice of day and night gnawed at the branch by which I hung. I saw the dragon clearly and the honey no longer tasted sweet. I only saw the inescapable dragon and the mice, and I could not tear my gaze from them. And this is not a fable but the real unanswerable truth intelligible to all.
The deception of the joys of life that formerly allayed my terror of the dragon now no longer deceived me. No matter how often I may be told, "You cannot understand the meaning of life so do not think about it, but live," I can no longer do it: I have already done it too long. I cannot now help seeing day and night going round and bringing me to death. That is all I see, for that alone is true. All else is false.
The two drops of honey, which diverted my eyes from the cruel truth longer than the rest: my love of family, and of writing - art as I called it - were no longer sweet to me.
"Family"...said I to myself. But my family - wife and children - are also human. They are placed just as I am: they must either live in a lie or see the terrible truth. Why should they live? Why should I love them, guard them, bring them up, or watch them? That they may come to the despair that I feel, or else be stupid? Loving them, I cannot hide the truth from them: each step in knowledge leads them to the truth. And the truth is death....
No sweetness of honey could be sweet to me when I saw the dragon and saw the mice gnawing away my support.
Nor was that all. Had I simply understood that life had no meaning I could have borne it quietly, knowing that that was my lot. But I could not satisfy myself with that. Had I been like a man living in a wood from which he knows there is no exit, I could have lived; but I was like one lost in a wood who, horrified at having lost his way, rushes about wishing to find the road. He knows that each step he takes confuses him more and more, but still he cannot help rushing about.
~Leo Tolstoy~
Thanks to: Travis K. Sullivan Indianapolis USA
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 07-29-2006 02:35 PM
Rated G
The elephant story-
If you love inspirational stories (and don't we all?),prepare to weep buckets of tears.
A man was on holiday in Kenya.While he was walking through the bush,he came across an elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.
The elephant seemed distressed so the man approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot. There was a large thorn deeply embedded in the bottom of the foot.
As carefully and as gently as he could he removed the thorn and the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man and with a rather stern look on its face,stared at him. For a good ten minutes the man stood frozen -- thinking of nothing else but being trampled.
Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly,turned and walked away.
For years after,the man remembered the elephant and the events of that day.
One day the man was walking through the zoo with his son. As they approached the elephant enclosure,one of the creatures turned and walked over to where they are standing at the rail.It stared at him and the man couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant.
After a while it trumpeted loudly;then it continued to stare at him.
The man summoned up his courage,climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.
Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again,wrapped its trunk around one of the man's legs and swung him wildly back and forth along the railing,killing him.......
Probably wasn't the same elephant.
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 08-03-2006 06:47 AM
Rated G Faye in Kingston, Ont.
Grandpa's Hands- - - Grandma's too
This is good; I'll never look at my hands the same!
Grandpa,some ninety plus years,sat feebly on the patio bench.He
didn't move,just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally,not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time,I asked him if he was OK.
He raised his head and looked at me and smiled."Yes,I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting herestaring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over,palms up and then palms down.No,I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled,shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.
They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.
As a child my Mother taught me to fold them in prayer.
They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.
They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.
They have been dirty,scraped and raw,swollen and bent.They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.
Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.
They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my Parents and Spouse and walked my Daughter down the aisle.
Yet,they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot.
They have held children,consoled neighbors,and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
They have covered my face,combed my hair,and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.
And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.
But more importantly! it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.
And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ ."
I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God
reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home.
When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of Grandpa.I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.
I,too,want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 08-22-2006 08:04 AM
Rated G Faye in Kingston
A carrot, an egg and a cup of coffee...
You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again........
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.
Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see." Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity... boiling water. Each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.
The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"
Think of this: Which am I?
Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit .. but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.
When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?
Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
You might want to send this message to those people who mean something to you (I JUST DID); to those who have touched your life in one way or another; to those who make you smile when you really need it; to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down; to those whose friendship you appreciate; to those who are so meaningful in your life.
If you don't send it, you will just miss out on the opportunity to brighten someone's day with this message!
May we all be COFFEE.
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