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The Silk Paper Wrapping

  

A friend of mine opened his wife's underwear drawer and picked up a silk paper wrapped package:

"This, - he said - isn't any ordinary package."

He unwrapped the box and stared at both the silk paper and the box.

"She got this the first time we went to  New York, 8 or 9 years ago.

She has never put it on, was saving it for a special occasion

Well, I guess this is it." 

He got near the bed and placed the gift box next to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house. His wife had just died. 

He turned to me and said:

"Never save something for a special occasion. 

Every day in your life is a special occasion"..

I still think those words changed my life.

Now I read more and clean less.


I sit on the porch without worrying about anything.


I spend more time with my family, and less at work.

I understood that life should be a source of experience to be lived up to, not survived through. 

I no longer keep anything. 

I use crystal glasses every day... 

I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket, if I feel like it.


I don't save my special perfume for special occasions. I use it whenever I want to. 

The words 'Someday...' and ' One Day...' are fading from my dictionary. 


If it's worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen or do it now.... 

I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she knew she wouldn't be there the next morning,
this nobody can tell. 


I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends.
She might call old friends to make peace over past quarrels. 


I'd like to think she would go out for Chinese, her favorite food. 


It's these small things that I would regret not doing, if I knew my time had come..


Each day, each hour, each minute, is special. 

Live for today, for tomorrow is promised to no-one...

If you got this, it's because someone cares for you and because, probably, there's someone you care about.


If you're too busy to send this out to other people and you say to yourself that you will send it

 "One of these days", remember that "One day" is far away... or might never come.....


No matter if you're superstitious or not, spend some time reading it.
it holds useful messages for the soul.


Don't keep this message to yourself!  Pass it on as often as you can.

Everyone needs to hear or read it...NOW!

Sand and Stone

This has been around FUBAR for some time.  It appears to have been written by "Anonymous".

Today, I chose to put it into "fancy type".

 

Sand and Stone

 

Two friends were walking through the desert.

During some point of the journey, they had an argument;

and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

 

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without

saying anything, wrote in the sand:

TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.

They kept on walking, until they found an oasis,

where they decided to take a bath.

 

The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire

and started drowning, but the friend saved him.

After he recovered from the near drowning,he wrote on a stone:

"TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE."

 

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him,

“After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?”

 

The friend replied, “WHEN SOMEONE HURTS US

WE SHOULD WRITE IT DOWN IN SAND,

WHERE WINDS OF FORGIVENESS CAN ERASE IT AWAY.

BUT, WHEN SOMEONE DOES SOMETHING GOOD FOR US,

WE MUST ENGRAVE IT IN STONE WHERE NO WIND

CAN EVER ERASE IT.”

 

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND

AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE.

 

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to

appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them...

Send this to the people you'll never forget…

I JUST DID.

If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry

and that you've forgotten your friends.

TAKE THE TIME TO LIVE!

DO NOT VALUE THE THINGS YOU HAVE IN YOUR LIFE,

BUT VALUE WHO YOU HAVE IN YOUR LIFE!

 

And, if I happen to get it back, then I know my place in your life.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

  When I was a little girl, my Mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular, when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my Mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned toast in front of my Dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my Dad did was reach for his toast, smile at my Mom, and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite!
  When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my Mom apologize to my Dad for burning the toast. And I'll never forget what he said: Baby, I love burned toast.
  Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his toast burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, Your Momma put in a hard day at work today, and she's real tired. And besides - a little burnt toast never hurt anyone!
  You know, life is full of imperfect things......and imperfect people. I'm not the best housekeeper or cook. What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults - and choosing to celebrate each other's differences - is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.
  And that's my prayer for you today. That you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of God. Because in the end, He's the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where burnt toast isn't a deal-breaker! We could extend this to any relationship in fact - as understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!


"Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket - keep it in your own."

What a Great Day This Is!
 
 
 
 This morning I heard that the market had gone
 down some more.  This is not good news.
 It has messed with my retirement plan
 and made my net worth go from pride to hide.
 It has turned easy street into a mean street.
 The bottom line is that I do not have nearly as much
 money or assets as I had just a short while ago.
 
 Let me share with you
 what I also discovered this morning:
 
 . I was breathing and in general feeling pretty healthy.
 . My wife gave me a kiss and told me she loved me.
 .
 . All of my children have jobs and are safe and well.
 .. My grandchildren still light up my life
 
 . I am a citizen of the greatest nation on
 the face of the earth.
 . A good friend called and
 wants to go out to dinner and a show
 (I have a friend).
 . My home is safe, warm, and secure.
 . I ate breakfast and lunch
 and will have dinner later
 (many won't get three meals today).
 . I have a big huge bottle of wonderful
 fresh clean water that I can choose to drink all I want.
 . I am wearing clean clothes today,
 and tomorrow I will wear something different.
 In fact, I could wear something different
 every day this month if I wanted to.
 

 It is a shame that it took losing so much money
 for me to realize how rich I really am!
 This week may be one of the best weeks of my life.
 
 Unknown
 
  Good friends are like stars....
 You don't always see them,
 But you know they are always there!!!
 WISHING YOU A GREAT WEEK!
I stole this from MzCABiBBW and think it is VERY important!
Luke AFB is west of Phoenix and is rapidly being surrounded by civilization that complains about the noise from the base and its planes, forgetting that it was there long before they were. A certain lieutenant colonel at Luke AFB deserves a big pat on the back. Apparently, an individual who lives somewhere near Luke AFB wrote the local paper complaining about a group of F-16s that disturbed his/her day at the mall. When that individual read the response from a Luke AFB officer, it must have stung quite a bit. Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: "Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 A.M, a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns early bird special? Any response would be appreciated." The response: Regarding 'A wake-up call from Luke's jets.' On June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship fly by of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt. Jeremy Fresques. Capt Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day. At 9 a. m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend. Based on the letter writer's recount of the fly by, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the President of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured.. A four-ship fly by is a display of respect the Air Force gives to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects. The letter writer asks, 'Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will make the call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives. Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you.....Jesus Christ and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom. Lt. Col. Grant L. Rosensteel, Jr. USAF

The Cab Ride

The Cab Ride So I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'. 'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?' 'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly. 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice". I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now' We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. 'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse. 'Nothing,' I said 'You have to make a living,' she answered. 'There are other passengers,' I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.' I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL. You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to ten people. But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more compassionate by sending it on. Thank you, my friend... Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

The Sandpiper

The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said. "I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring. "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy," the child said. "It's a what?" "It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson." "Mine's Wendy... I'm six." "Hi, Wendy." She giggled. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. "Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day." The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. "Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?" "What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. "I don't know. You say." "How about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is." "Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked. "Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?" "I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child? "Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!" "Did it hurt?" she inquired. "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself. "When she died?" "Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door. "Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was." "Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies." "Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. "Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you." Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath. "She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?" I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love. NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses. This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many and now I share it with you... May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences! Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
I wish for you, a sandpiper
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