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"Beauty of a Woman"
The beauty of a woman
Is not in the clothes she wears,
The figure that she carries,
Or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman
must be seen from in her eyes,
Because that is the doorway
to her heart,
the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman
is not in a facial mole,
But true beauty in a woman
Is reflected in her soul.
It is the caring that
she lovingly gives,
The passion that she shows,
And the beauty of a woman.
With passing years-
only grows!
Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others.
It is because we are different that each of us is special.
Don't set your goals by what other people deem important.
Only you know what is best for you.
Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart.
Cling to them as you would your life, for without them life is
meaningless.
Don't let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past or
for the future.
By living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your
life.
Don't give up when you still have something to give.
Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.
Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect.
It is this fragile thread that binds us to each other.
Don't be afraid to encounter risks.
It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.
Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find.
The quickest way to receive love is to give love.
The fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly;
and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.
Don't dismiss your dreams.
To be without dreams is to be without hope;
to be without hope is to be without purpose.
Don't run through life so fast that you forget not only where you've
been, but also where you're going.
Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way
EMPTY EGG
Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.
One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students."
Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here." Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?
As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy. From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.
"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, Doris' face turned red. She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please, take your seat."
Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically--all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.
That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it.After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.
The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here." A small girl in the first row waved her arm. "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.
The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that's new life, too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine." Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.
Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty. Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents.Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty." He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."
Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?" "Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up."
The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away.
Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty.
May we never let the things we can't have, or don't have,
or shouldn't have, spoil our enjoyment of the things we do have
and can have.
As we value our happiness let us not forget it,
for one of the greatest lessons in life is learning
to be happy without the things we cannot or should not have.
TO HONOR THEIR SOULS
Perhaps you have never heard of Katherine Lawes. Katherine was the
wife of Lewis Lawes, warden at Sing Sing Prison from 1920-1941.
Sing Sing had the reputation of destroying wardens. The average
warden's tenure before Lewis Lawes was two years. "The easiest way to
get out of Sing Sing," he once quipped, "is to go in as warden." In
his 21 years he instituted numerous reforms - and an important part of
his success was due to his wife Katherine.
Katherine took seriously the idea that the prisoners are human beings,
worthy of attention and respect. She regularly visited inside the
walls of Sing Sing. She encouraged the prisoners, ran errands for them
and spent time listening to them. Most importantly, she cared about
them. And as a result, they cared deeply about her.
Then one night in October of 1937, news was "telegraphed" between the
prison cells that Katherine was killed in an accident. The prisoners
petitioned the warden to allow them to attend her funeral bier. He
granted their strange request and a few days later the south gate of
Sing Sing swung slowly open. Hundreds of men - felons, lifers,
murderers, thieves - men convicted of almost every crime conceivable,
marched slowly from the prison gate to the bier, reassembled at the
house and returned to their cells. There were so many that they
proceeded unguarded. But not one tried to escape. If he had, the
others may have killed him on the spot, so devoted were they to
Katherine Lawes, the woman who daily walked into Hell to show the men
a piece of Heaven.
Katherine's strength was to see the men less as prisoners and more as
individuals. Thomas Moore has said, "We can only treat badly those
things or people whose souls we disregard."
To treat people well is to honor their souls. To honor their souls is
to understand what it means to love your neighbor.
Damaged Goods
By Joanna Slan
The dust mites danced in the ray of sunshine that provided the only light in the rabbi’s office. He rocked back in his office chair and sighed as he stroked his beard. Then he took his wire-rimmed glasses and polished them absent-mindedly on his flannel shirt.
“So,” he said, “you were divorced. Now you want to marry this good Jewish boy. What’s the problem?”
He nestled his grizzled chin in his hand and smiled softly at me.
I wanted to shriek. What’s the problem? First of all, I’m Christian. Second, I’m older than he is. Third - and not least, by any means - I’m divorced! Instead, I looked back into his soft brown eyes and tried to form the words.
“Don’t you think,” I stuttered, “that being divorced is like being used? Like being damaged goods?”
He settled back in the office chair and stretched so that he was looking at the ceiling. He stroked the scraggly beard that covered his chin and his neck. Then, he returned to his spot behind the desk and leaned toward me.
“Say you have to have surgery. Say you have a choice between two doctors. Who are you going to choose? The one right out of medical school or the one with experience?”
“The one with experience,” I said.
His face crinkled into a grin. “I would, too,” he locked his eyes with mine. “So in this marriage, you will be the one with experience. That’s not such a bad thing, you know.
“Often, marriages tend to drift. They get caught in dangerous currents. They get off course and head toward hidden sandbars. No one notices until it is too late. On your face, I see the pain of a marriage gone bad. You will notice the drift in this marriage. You’ll call out when you see the rocks. You’ll yell to watch out and pay attention. You’ll be the person with experience,” he sighed. “And believe me, that’s not such a bad thing. Not bad at all.”
He walked to the window and peeked between the slats of the blinds. “You see, no one here knows about my first wife. I don’t hide it, but I don’t make a big deal about it. She died early in our marriage before I moved here. Now, late at night I think of all the words I never said. I think of all the chances I let pass by in that first marriage, and I believe I’m a better husband to my wife today because of the woman I lost.”
For the first time, the sadness in his eyes had meaning. Now I understood why I chose to come talk to this man about marriage instead of taking an easier route and getting married outside both our religions. The word “rabbi” means teacher. Somehow I sensed he could teach me, or even lend me, the courage I needed in order to try again, to marry again and to love again.
“I will marry you and your David,” said the rabbi. “If you promise me that you will be the person who yells out when you see the marriage is in danger.”
I promised him I would, and I rose to leave.
“By the way,” he called to me as I hesitated in his doorway, “did anyone ever tell you that Joanna is a good Hebrew name?”
Sixteen years have passed since the rabbi married David and me on a rainy October morning. And, yes, I have called out several times when I sensed we were in danger. I would tell the rabbi how well his analogy has served me, but I cannot. He died two years after our wedding. But I will always be grateful for the priceless gift he gave me: the wisdom to know that all of our experiences in life make us not less valuable, but more valuable, not less able to love, but more able to love.
SHAY
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child." Then he related the following story:
Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they will let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-need ed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart.
The b oys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three in the top of the ninth inning. Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat prope rly, much less contact with the ball. However, as Shay stepped to the plate, the pitcher recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, move in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so that Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball over the head of the first baseman, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both team started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever run that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone y elled, "Run to second, run to second!"
Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on the their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All we screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"&nb sp; Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third," As shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feed screaming, "Shay, run home! Shay run to home" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the here who hit the grand slam. He had won the game for his team!
That day, said the father softly with tears rolling down his face, the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.
Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy and coming home and seeing his mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day.
A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.
