Story of a Soldier

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.

"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me."
"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."
"There's something you should know the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."
"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."
At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are. Thankfully , there's someone who won't treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.

Finally,
Dont strew me with roses after i'm dead, when death claims the light of my brow, no flowers of life will cheer me - instead you may give me my roses now.. :)

Let me love you one day at a time

Let me love you one day at a time, and please love me that very same way. We may never learn all there is to know about love, but every day together will teach us a little more about ourselves and the special kind of happiness we can bring to each other. One of the best things you've helped me learn is that love starts with being honest, speaking straight from how we really feel. I like how we've opened doors, and windows of our lives and invited each other to come in, look around and get acquainted. The more I'm with you, the more at home I feel. Let me love you one day at a time.



Why talk about "always" and say things we're not sure we mean, when we can talk about today and mean exactly what we say. Let's think of each sunrise as a fresh start, a brand new beginning... and try to fill each day with as much love as it can hold. I know you're not always going to be exactly the same person Sunday through Saturday, January through December, and neither am I. We both need laughing times and crying times... and time for every mood in between. The important thing is that you can be the kind of you that feels most natural and that I can be my most favourite kind of me. That's what makes us so comfortable together... it's also what keeps us from taking too much for granted. Let me love you one day at a time.



Let's not wonder how long love will last but how beautiful we can make it grow. Let's give our best to each other but, let's never expect miracles of our love. There's no need to... the reality of you and me is better than all the impossible dreams and fantasies I've ever imagined. Being with you is feeling proud, blessed, grateful for each hour we share. Let me love you, not according to any how-to-book, or by someone else's set of rules... but simply for who you are and how you are with me. And please love me, not for what I might be moulded into, but for what I am here and now. Don't expect me to be someone all good and all giving, someone who could never disappoint you... someone to right to be real and too perfect to be me. I'm just as human as anyone I know... and very thankful that you are too. Let's try to remember that love means keeping in touch with each other's thoughts and feelings... listening not just to words, but to the emotions behind them... seeing, not just the smiles and frowns but the hurt and pleasures that cause them.



Let me love you one day at a time, starting today. Let's have the courage to try to change whatever needs changing about us, and wisdom to know what should never be changed. Believing in ourselves and in our ability to handle whatever tomorrow brings... and trusting that this love we share will continue to grow stronger as the future years unfold... One Beautiful Day At A Time.

LAUGHTER

She laughed a contrived, awkward laugh. She knew very well the difference between humour and scorn. She was trying to ignore the greasy smell of cynicism that wafted from his words. But her laughter, however untrue, only encouraged him. He jubilantly continued to mock her beliefs, her faith, her family, her life, everything she considered herself to be made of and she just swallowed her anger and pride and laughed. He felt powerful, like a bully pushing a child half his size to the ground and repeatedly kicking her in the chest while she shielded herself with her hands knowing that neither mercy nor refuge would ever come. Except he used his words to put her down and she used her laughter to protect herself. That was the only purpose her laughter had now. To protect her. She never used her lips to smile, never used them to kiss, hardly ever to eat and even less to speak. But laugh she did. The repercussions of silence in front of him were far too loud. His incessant screaming hurt her too much. They made the kind of scars that couldn't be seen, the kind that couldn't be used as proof. When on several occasions she had tried to share the invisible violence she faced, it only made everyone think she complained too much and that was even worse to bear than the abuse she got from him. So she stayed silent to the world and laughed only for him... The sad thing about pretending is that if you do it long enough, everybody will start believing you. The tragic thing about pretending is that if you do it long enough, even you will start believing yourself. She had played along for so long now that everyone, including herself, thought she was happy. So when they found her body swaying gently in her bedroom with one end of the rope around her neck and the other around her ceiling fan, they called it a tragedy... not murder. Just like I do, ending with small poem

When life seems low after you’ve given it your all and
when people you love don’t help you when you fall if they’re the reason you’re sad
and you fret baby, don’t let it get to you.
Don’t regret. you stand by them
when they need you that’s what makes you who you are if they choose to bail
when you’re just a little frail it’s a pity they don’t see right through you they’re unlucky and really stupid!
Its not fair they don’t cherish you Cause if they knew what a gold mine they had around them
They’d dig you just like I do!
All these boyfriends, lovers and men you got And I’m still here to take your tears away
Just now,

its from across the miles!

The Story of the Cliff

They’re tearing at me
Ghasty fingers crawl over my skin
Pulling.
“Come!” they cry
“We can fill that empty hole.”
Indeed there it is, where my heart should be there was a chasm
It was deep and the edges were sharp
Like it had been carelessly carved out
I put my hand to my chest
And felt the emptiness,
The dark substance-lacking air that filled that space
And still the fingers pulled
Pricking and tugging
Pulling my hair, pinching my skin
And I wept.
In front of me stretched the edge of a cliff.
It looked terrifying. Black rock, red backdrop.
The bottom was clouded in darkness.
And it was away from the edge these fingers pulled me.
“Come!” they cry
“This is dangerous. We want to protect you.
Come where it is comfortable and your heart will be filled.”
Oh, the struggle within. The choice seemed so easy. But a haunting song seemed to call me forward to the edge. While the fingers pulled me back.
Forces clashing armor against armor inside of me,
No white horses verses black horses.
All the knights were dressed the same,
Wolves in sheep’s clothing
But I couldn’t tell who was who
And it raged
And my insides ached
I grew weary from the conflict,
Weary of the noises.
I wanted to silence it all,
The haunting song and the voices that beckoned me backward.
I began to shut myself down, like a flashlight out of battery.
I numbed myself to all.
The fight doesn’t seem worth it, I thought.
So I sat down.
The fingers still pricked, but I didn’t feel them.
The cliff still called but I didn’t listen.
I just sat.
And sat.
And sat.
And sat.
Until one day I rose my hand to my chest and felt the hole that had been carved
And I ran my fingers around the edge,
The sharp, jagged edges
And it pricked me
I drew back my finger and a drop of blood rose to the skin.
And I had a feeling,
A thought.
A remembrance of what is was like to live engaged in the world.
I remembered the pain and the beauty and hurt and the joy
And all at once my ears were opened again,
And the noises were deafening.
My eyes opened and the ground was shaking
The world had not stopped as I had supposed.
It raged on.
It was chaotic, overpowering.
The fingers tugged,
“Come,” they cried
“Where there is no pain. We can take you there.”
The sirens song rose up from the cliff’s edge.
And I shook at the experience of it all.
My body trembled.
I tried to throw off the hands that clutched me.
And I ran to the edge,
Staring down into what seemed like nothingness.
It was uncertainty.
Jumping surly meant death.
I leaned over,
The voices growing frantic behind me,
Beckoning me to retreat
“Come back!” they cried
“Come back!”
“Why should I do this?!” I yelled into the cavern.
“Why should I choose this? What will you do about this hole in my chest?!”
I sobbed, emotions of desperation, fury, and hope pulsed through my veins.
“What do you want from me?!” I cried.
The haunting melody drifted up from the cavern.
I realized for the first time that there were words interlaced in the song,
Why hadn’t I heard them before?
They sang this:
“Die to self, Oh beloved
And learn to live again
Nothing can fill that hole
Or completely heal the pain within.
But We too have holes,
In our hands and our side
We suffered for you
Come, oh Bride
Prepare yourself
For Our kingdom is near
It is not man,
But it is us you should fear.
We won’t take all your pain away
We won’t make you whole
Not in this life anyway,
Can We complete your soul.
But We came to you to feel your pain,
To make each tear our own
If you take a chance with us,
You will never be alone.
We forgive your fear and yours sin are washed
If you decide to come,
It is hard,
But it’s truth
So, jump, beloved one.”
No promise of ease
Or of my desires being fulfilled came from the song that echoed through the rocks.
The ghastly fingers gripped harder,
Their voices stronger.
“Come!” they cried,
“We have a place with no pain.
We have a place with no sorrow!
Come!”
“Liars!” I screamed
And I jumped.

When stories end

Like a small piece of land in the middle of an ocean
my heart’s sinking in the sea.
My arms flailing bout,
there’s not a shadow of doubt
I’m about to sink beneath.

I’m screaming in sorrow, I’m screaming in pain.
There’s no one around to hear.
All the pretty friendly fishes
turning into shark-like witches,
Feeding off my primal fear.

It’s the fear that consumes me, the fear that destroys
A fear chilling to the bone.
Colder than the icy waters
in which my heart slowly flutters –
It’s the fear of being alone.

I can hear your fake cackling echoing in your hollow soul.
Our friendship mortified.
My heart can’t grow gills
In anger it wills
that our friendship dies.

I guess it’s the same sadness, the very same fear,
that forces you to be one of them.
Selfish and conniving.
Lying and depraving.
I think its time for the end to begin.

Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

There was once a guy who was very much in love with a girl. He folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to her. Although at that time he was just a small fry in his company and his future didn't seem too bright he was contented with what he had.. for he was in love.. and they were both happy together.. Until one day, this girl told him she was going to leave the country for Paris and try to live a new life there with no intention of returning back. She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for both of them because he was poor and he had no dreams. He couldn't believe what he just heard and couldn't help but cry. She was his dream, his love, his friend.. she was his everything.. Just when he thought he had it all he gets to experience the true side of the world.. with all it's misery in it.. But love is being able to accept the truth no matter how it hurts.. She broke his heart and yet he still loves her.. Days have passed, months have gone by and yet his feelings for her has always stayed the same.. He worked hard night and day to put his mind off the past.. He wanted to prove her wrong about the fact that he has no dreams.. he can be somebody someday.. Finally with all the hard work and help from his friends, he was able to build his own company.. One rainy day, while he was driving along the highway, he saw an old couple sharing an umbrella in the rain while heading to some destination. It didn't take him a while to recognise them for they seemed familiar to him.. they were his girl's parents.. He drove back to them.. slowly.. to show them how his life has changed. how successful he has become.. he's got his own car, house, company.. he's got it all.. But what he saw next confused him. The couple were heading to a cemmetery. Out of impulse he went out of the car and followed them. She was there.. his heart pounded so fast for he couldn't believe what he was seeing.. He felt the warmth of his tears thrickling down his cheeks.. He was crying in the rain.. He saw his girl's photograph smiling sweetly at him.. from her tombstone.. next to the paper cranes he once gave her. Her parents felt his presence and looked back at him. Out of confusion he asked them why.. and how did all this happend.. She did not leave for Paris for she was ill with cancer, it was her cliché. She believed that he will make it someday and she didn't want to be his obstacle. All she ever wanted was to be with him.. but she chose to leave him to spare him from her suffering and frustrations.. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you at all. She wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him near to her again... he will remember how much she loved him and how much he meant to her... Once you have loved someone, you will always love her.. forever. For what's in your mind and heart will remain forever. He cried in silence and whispered... "I thought I almost had it all.. now i know what was missing.. you.."

Miracle of one dollar and eleven cents

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door. She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it! "And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply >> to his question. "Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick... and I want to buy a miracle." ''I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist. His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside >> his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So >> how much does a miracle cost?" "We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little. "Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough,I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs." The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?" I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money." "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago. "One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to." "Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents--- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers. " He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need." That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her Mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?" Tess smiled.. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost...one dollar and eleven cents ..... plus the faith of a little child..

I Wish You Enough

Recently I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said, "I love you and I wish you enough". The daughter replied, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom". They kissed and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking,"Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever? ". "Yes, I have," I replied. "Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?". "I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is - the next trip back will be for my funeral,"she said. "When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough'. May I ask what that means?". She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone". She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more. "When we said, I wish you enough', we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them". Then turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory. I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright, I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye. She then began to cry and walked away. 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. Take time to live......To all my friends and loved ones, I wish you enough.