When you are angry....

This is a true story which happened in the States. A man came out of his home to admire his new truck. To his astonishment, his three-year-old son was happily hammering dents into the shiny paint. The man ran to his son, knocked him away, hammered the little boy's hands into a pulp as punishment.

When the father calmed down, he rushed his son to the hospital. Although the doctor tried desperately to save the crushed bones, he finally had to amputate the fingers from both the boy's hands. When the boy woke up from the surgery & saw his bandaged stubs, he innocently said, "Daddy, I'm sorry about your truck." Then he asked,"but when are my fingers going to grow back?" The father went home & committed suicide.

Think about the story the next time u see someone spill milk at a dinner table or hear a baby crying. Think first before you lose your patience with someone you love. Trucks can be repaired. Broken bones & hurt feelings often can't.

Too often we fail to recognise the difference between the person and the performance. People make mistakes. We are allowed to make mistakes.
But the actions we take while in a rage will haunt us forever. Think before
you act. Be patient. Understand & love.

Money Is Not Everything...

Money can buy house
but not home.

Money can buy bed
but not sleep.

Money can buy clock
but not time.

Money can buy book
but not knowledge.

Money can buy dresses
but not pretty,

Money can buy slim
but not happy.

Money can buy food
but not appetite.

Money can buy position
but not respect.

Money can buy blood
but not life.

Money can buy medicine
but not health.

Money can buy sex
but not love.

Money can buy insurance
but not safety.

You see, money is not everything.
Therefore, if you have too much, please give some to me! ;-)

Work Work Work

A long time ago, there was an Emperor who told his horseman that if he could ride on his horse and cover as much land area as he likes, then the Emperor would give him the area of land he has covered.

Sure enough, the horseman quickly jumped onto his horse and rode as fast as possible to cover as much land area as he could. He kept on riding and riding, whipping the horse to go as fast as possible. When he was hungry or tired, he did not stop because he wanted to cover as much area as possible.

Came to a point when he had covered a substantial area and he was exhausted and was dying. Then he asked himself, "Why did I push myself so hard to cover so much land area? Now I am dying and I only need a very small area to bury myself."

The above story is similar with the journey of our Life. We push very hard everyday to make more money, to gain power and recognition. We neglect our health, time with our family and to appreciate the surrounding beauty and the hobbies we love.

One day when we look back, we will realize that we don't really need that much, but then we cannot turn back time for what we have missed.

Life is not about making money, acquiring power or recognition. Life is definitely not about work! Work is only necessary to keep us living so as to enjoy the beauty and pleasures of life. Life is a balance of Work and Play, Family and Personal time. You have to decide how you want to balance your Life. Define your priorities, realize what you are able to compromise but always let some of your decisions be based on your instincts. Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of Life, the whole aim of human existence.

So, take it easy, do what you want to do and appreciate nature. Life is fragile, Life is short. Do not take Life for granted. Live a balanced lifestyle and enjoy Life!

Watch your thoughts ; they become words.
Watch your words ; they become actions.
Watch your actions ; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.
Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

The Magic of Giving

My wife and I spent a month holidaying in Southern France.

I don't remember ever being as happy as I was during the short time we spent there.

I was truly happy to be alive.

On hot days, we spent out time inside our cool room reading or chatting. Towards the evenings, we often went for walks. During our walks we'd stop to look at the bowers along the road. The road, which was made of red sand, ran along the mountain; lavenders grew on one side of it and olive trees grew on the other.

We enjoyed the scenery as we walked through the village. The beauty around us added to our joy.

The local people all said they were very happy to see us walking hand-in-hand, smiling, serene, poised and open to strangers. I only realized how much our happiness affected them when the farmers gave us a special gift which they usually reserved for a big occasion or some unexpected pleasant surprise: dry sausage and a bottle of anisette.

On each of our walks we made new friends who cemented our friendship with lovely gifts.

We finally returned home. After spending a month in sunny, friendly Provence, our city seemed cold; the days and nights appeared longer than usual, and even clients seemed uninterested in my work.

One evening, as I sat in a cafe, with my head on my hand, thinking of our time in Provence and the lavish welcome of it's people, it hit me. I realized why the villagers back in France treated us as they did: they were giving us back what they had received from us - the gift of joy.

Don't expect anything from others which you don't give yourself: give a smile when you're sad, a warm handshake when your heart is cold, a positive thought when you see nothing but dark things in your life....

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When your happiness radiates out and touches those around you, including strangers, you communicate something to them. Something which makes them want to respond in a positive way to you.

Give joy without expecting anything in return and you will put people in the best possible disposition to give and be open with you.

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"What is good about giving on your part is that you always receive more than you give; the reaction is always stronger than the action."
Orison S. Marden

The story of the black balloons

A young black boy saw a balloon seller on a street corner. His eyes sparkled as he gazed at all the different colored balloons - red, blue, white, black, yellow...

The old man selling the balloons saw the boy hesitate, than gather his courage and approach.

"Tell me mister," said the boy, "do the black balloons fly as high as the others?"

The old man felt a tear forming in his eye. He picked the boy up, sat him on his knee and said, "Look."

He let go of all the balloons. They drifted up in a cluster, higher and higher into the blue sky until they were so high they disappeared.

"Did you see that?" the balloon seller asked.

"Yes," said the boy.

"Did the black balloons fly as high as the others?"

"Yes Mister, they did."

"You see my boy, the balloons are like people. The important thing isn't their color, or what they look like on the outside. No, the important thing is WHAT'S INSIDE. And what's inside you makes all the difference in life."

The Miracle of a Brother's Song

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in Mommy's tummy. He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen. In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every minute .But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee.

The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst. Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. "I want to sing to her", he kept saying. Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over.

Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or not. If he didn't see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket. The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed." The mother rose up strong in Karen, and
the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line, "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister" she stated. Then Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside.

He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing. In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray." Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulses rate began to calm down and become steady. "Keep on singing, Michael," encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes. "You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away."

As Michael sang to his sister, the baby's ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr. "Keep on singing, sweetheart." "The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms". Michael's little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her. "Keep on singing, Michael." Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away..."

The next, day...the very next day...the little girl was well enough to go home. Woman's Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother's Song. The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love.

NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE. LOVE IS SO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL. Life is good. Have a Wonderful Day!

The Window View

Got this email from my friend and it has given me a new perspective in life, as I began to see things differently. I hope that this will do the same for you. Be Happy Always!!!

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Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band -- he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

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Epilogue: There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.

If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy.

"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."

The origin of this letter is unknown, but it brings good luck to everyone who passes it on.

Do not keep this letter. Do not send money. Just forward it to your friends to whom you wish good luck. You will see that something good happens to you four days from today. People will forget what you said... People will forget what you did... But people will never forget how you made them feel...

Make someone happy, share a kind word today.

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The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet.
-- James Oppenheim