Winner Frog

Once upon a time there was a bunch of tiny frogs....  who arranged a running competition. The goal was to reach the top of a very high tower.

A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on the contestants....

The race began....

Honestly:  No one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of the tower.

You heard statements such as: "Oh, WAY too difficult!!" ,,,"They will NEVER make it to the top." "Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"

The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one.... Except for those, who in a fresh tempo, were climbing higher and higher.... The crowd continued to yell, "It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!"

More tiny frogs got tired and gave up.... But ONE continued higher and higher and higher.... This one wouldn't give up!

At the end everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny frog who, after a big effort, was the only one who reached the top!

THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally want ed to know how this one frog managed to do it? A contestant asked the tiny frog how he had found the strength to succeed and reach the goal?

It turned out.... That the winner was DEAF!!!!

The wisdom of this story is:

Never listen to other people's tendencies to be negative or pessimistic.... 

because they take your most wonderful dreams and wishes away from you -- the ones you have in your heart!

Always think of the power words have.

Because everything you hear and read will affect your actions!

Therefore: ALWAYS be....  POSITIVE! 

And above all: Be DEAF when people tell YOU that you cannot fulfill your dreams!

Always think: God and I can do this!

God's Perfection

In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning-disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career, while others can be main-streamed into conventional schools. At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God's perfection?" The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish and stilled by the piercing query. "I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that He seeks is in the way people react to this child."

He then told the following story about his son, Shaya: One afternoon Shaya and his father walked past a park where some boys Shaya knew were playing baseball. Shaya asked, "Do you think they will let me play?" Shaya's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Shaya's father understood that if his son was chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging.

Shaya's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Shaya could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his team-mates.

Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We are 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 up to bat in the ninth inning."

Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases loaded with the potential winning run on base, Shaya was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shaya was given the bat. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Shaya didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it. However, as Shaya stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya should at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in and Shaya swung clumsily and missed. One of Shaya's team-mates came up to Shaya and together they held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya. As the pitch came in, Shaya and his team-mate swung the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman.

Everyone started yelling, "Shaya, run to first. Run to first!" Never in his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide eyed and startled. By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Shaya, who was still running. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second." Shaya ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home.

As Shaya reached second base, the opposing short stop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to third."

As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Shaya run home!" Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand slam" and won the game for his team.

"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of God's perfection."

 

How to feel good about yourself.

Are you having a low phase in your life and wondering how to feel good about yourself? Feeling low does not mean that you have lost your self esteem and confidence - it is just that you need a boost to get back in high spirits. 

In the present society, there are many who face such a problem. This does not mean that they have lost their self worth; it is just that they have failed to realize it. 

A pat on the back and a smiling face is all that is required to tackle the slump period in life. 

In the following lines, we provide some tips to help you in feeling good about yourself, so that you get your happy mood back once again.

　

Feeling Good About Yourself

 

The first attempt to make yourself feel good would be to list any five words that would describe your qualities the best. Make sure that you list only the positive traits in yourself, such as easy going, hardworking, friendly, etc.

Appreciate what you have. Learn to love and be happy about them, rather than spending time thinking about things that you do not possess.

Face any and every difficult situation boldly. This will bring in the feel good factor and uplift your mood.

Listening to inspirational songs, the ones that provide a healing effect to your mind, acts beneficially in lifting your spirits. Play them when you are working at home, driving to office or just relaxing in your room.

If you want to feel good, keep smiling. It is said that a smile is contagious. When you smile at people, they smile back at you. This might be surprising, but the simple act of smiling can lift your spirits and make you feel good.

It is, often, seen that people who feel depressed or sad do not indulge in their hobby or use their talent. It is very important to do things that you like or are good at. It is one of the simplest ways to be happy and feel elated.     

Every one of us had done one thing in life to be proud of. The trick is to remember and share your achievements with close friends or relatives. This would give a boost to your mood.

When you do something good, give a pat on your back and say to yourself ‘I m good’.

Try to improve yourself, whenever you get an opportunity. You must realize that no one is perfect and by improving, you only better yourself.

Do not compare yourself with anyone else. Remember, no two people in this world are alike. You have grown with a different experience and talent than the rest and you should be proud of your individuality.

Wear new clothes. It might sound foolish, but it is a known fact that when you wear new clothes or your favorite outfit, you feel happy about yourself.

Do not mind what others say. Get this fact right - people insult others only to hide their own insecurities.

Compliment one person, praise the other and appreciate the third. Remember, when you say well about others, it makes you feel good about your own self as well.

Keep Planting

Paul Rokich is the hero of this story. When Paul was a boy growing up in Utah, he happened to live near an old copper smelter, and the sulfur dioxide that poured out of the refinery had made a desolate wasteland out of what used to be a beautiful forest.

When a young visitor one day looked at this wasteland and saw that there was nothing living there -- no animals, no trees, no grass, no bushes, no birds...nothing but fourteen thousand acres of black and barren land that even smelled bad -- well, this kid looked at the land and said, "This place is crummy." Paul knocked him down. He felt insulted. But he looked around him and something happened inside him. He made a decision: Paul Rokich vowed that some day he would bring back the life to this land.

Many years later Paul was in the area, and he went to the smelter office. He asked if they had any plans to bring the trees back. The answer was "No." He asked if they would let him try to bring the trees back. Again, the answer was "No." They didn't want him on their land. He realized he needed to be more knowledgeable before anyone would listen to him, so he went to college to study botany.

At the college he met a professor who was an expert in Utah's ecology. Unfortunately, this expert told Paul that the wasteland he wanted to bring back was beyond hope. He was told that his goal was foolish because even if he planted trees, and even if they grew, the wind would only blow the seeds forty feet per year, and that's all you'd get because there weren't any birds or squirrels to spread the seeds, and the seeds from those trees would need another thirty years before they started producing seeds of their own. Therefore, it would take approximately twenty thousand years to revegetate that six-square-mile piece of earth. His teachers told him it would be a waste of his life to try to do it. It just couldn't be done.

So he tried to go on with his life. He got a job operating heavy equipment, got married, and had some kids. But his dream would not die. He kept studying up on the subject, and he kept thinking about it. And then one night he got up and took some action. He did what he could with what he had. This was an important turning point. As Samuel Johnson wrote, "It is common to overlook what is near by keeping the eye fixed on something remote. In the same manner, present opportunities are neglected and attainable good is slighted by minds busied in extensive ranges." Paul stopped busying his mind in extensive ranges and looked at what opportunities for attainable good were right in front of him. Under the cover of darkness, he sneaked out into the wasteland with a backpack full of seedlings and started planting. For seven hours he planted seedlings.

He did it again a week later.

And every week, he made his secret journey into the wasteland and planted trees and shrubs and grass.

But most of it died.

For fifteen years he did this. When a whole valley of his fir seedlings burned to the ground because of a careless sheep-herder, Paul broke down and wept.

Then he got up and kept planting.

Freezing winds and blistering heat, landslides and floods and fires destroyed his work time and time again. But he kept planting.

One night he found a highway crew had come and taken tons of dirt for a road grade, and all the plants he had painstakingly planted in that area were gone.

But he just kept planting.

Week after week, year after year he kept at it, against the opinion of the authorities, against the trespassing laws, against the devastation of road crews, against the wind and rain and heat...even against plain common sense.

He just kept planting.

Slowly, very slowly, things began to take root. Then gophers appeared. Then rabbits. Then porcupines.

The old copper smelter eventually gave him permission, and later, as times were changing and there was political pressure to clean up the environment, the company actually hired Paul to do what he was already doing, and they provided him with machinery and crews to work with. Progress accelerated.

Now the place is fourteen thousand acres of trees and grass and bushes, rich with elk and eagles, and Paul Rokich has received almost every environmental award Utah has.

He says, "I thought that if I got this started, when I was dead and gone people would come and see it. I never thought I'd live to see it myself!"

It took him until his hair turned white, but he managed to keep that impossible vow he made to himself as a child.

What was it you wanted to do that you thought was impossible? Paul's story sure gives a perspective on things, doesn't it?

The way you get something accomplished in this world is to just keep planting. Just keep working. Just keep plugging away at it one day at a time for a long time, no matter who criticizes you, no matter how long it takes, no matter how many times you fall.

Get back up again. And just keep planting.

Just keep planting

Follow ur dreams

I have a friend named Monty Roberts who owns a horse ranch in San Ysidro. He has let me use his house to put on fund-raising events to raise money for youth at risk programs.

The last time I was there he introduced me by saying, "I want to tell you why I let Jack use my house. It all goes back to a story about a young man who was the son of an itinerant horse trainer who would go from stable to stable, race track to race track, farm to farm and ranch to ranch, training horses. As a result, the boy's high school career was continually interrupted. When he was a senior, he was asked to write a paper about what he wanted to be and do when he grew up.

"That night he wrote a seven-page paper describing his goal of someday owning a horse ranch. He wrote about his dream in great detail and he even drew a diagram of a 200- acre ranch, showing the location of all the buildings, the stables and the track. Then he drew a detailed floor plan for a 4,000-square-foot house that would sit on a 200-acre dream ranch.

"He put a great deal of his heart into the project and the next day he handed it in to his teacher. Two days later he received his paper back. On the front page was a large red F with a note that read, 'See me after class.'

"The boy with the dream went to see the teacher after class and asked, 'Why did I receive an F?'

"The teacher said, 'This is an unrealistic dream for a young boy like you. You have no money. You come from an itinerant family. You have no resources. Owning a horse ranch requires a lot of money. You have to buy the land. You have to pay for the original breeding stock and later you'll have to pay large stud fees. There's no way you could ever do it.' Then the teacher added, 'If you will rewrite this paper with a more realistic goal, I will reconsider your grade.'

"The boy went home and thought about it long and hard. He asked his father what he should do. His father said, 'Look, son, you have to make up your own mind on this. However, I think it is a very important decision for you.'

"Finally, after sitting with it for a week, the boy turned in the same paper, making no changes at all. He stated, 'You can keep the F and I'll keep my dream.'"

Monty then turned to the assembled group and said, "I tell you this story because you are sitting in my 4,000- square-foot house in the middle of my 200-acre horse ranch. I still have that school paper framed over the fireplace." He added, "The best part of the story is that two summers ago that same schoolteacher brought 30 kids to camp out on my ranch for a week." When the teacher was leaving, he said, 'Look, Monty, I can tell you this now. When I was your teacher, I was something of a dream stealer. During those years I stole a lot of kids' dreams. Fortunately you had enough gumption not to give up on yours.'"

Don't let anyone steal your dreams. Follow your heart, no matter what.

Caught by nuts

Monkey hunters in India use a box tied to the tree or a hole made in the tree to catch monkey. The box/hole would have an opening at the top, big enough for the monkey to slide its hand in it. They keep some nuts inside the box. The monkey slide its hand inside the box and grabs the nuts and now its hand becomes a fist. The monkey tries to get its hand out but the opening is big enough for the hand to slide in, but too small for the fist to come out. Now the monkey has a choice, either to hold on to the nuts and get caught or let go off the nuts and be free for ever. Do you know what it picks every time? You guessed it right! He hangs on the nuts and gets caught.

Many of us are not different from monkeys. We all hang on some nuts which prevent us from going forward in life. You know the nuts, better than anyone else, that prevent you from going forward in life. Identify that nuts and let go off that nuts and be free for ever.

We keep rationalize by saying "I cannot do this because......." Whatever comes after "because" are the nuts that you are hanging on and which holding you back.

I was wrong.

A funny story is told about General George Patton from his World War
II days. He once accepted an invitation to dine at a press camp in
Africa. Wine was served in canteen cups but, obviously thinking he
was served coffee, Patton poured cream into his cup. As he stirred in
sugar, Patton was warned that his cup contained red wine and not
coffee.

Now, General Patton could never, never be wrong. Without hesitating
he replied, "I know. I like my wine this way." And he drank it!
I relate this story because I see something of myself, and perhaps
most of us, here. It is difficult to admit mistakes. It is hard to admit
when we are wrong. Three of life's most difficult words to say are, "I
was wrong."

But they are also three of the most powerful words we can utter. "I
was wrong" breaks down barriers between people. It brings estranged
people together. And it creates a climate where intimacy and love
may flourish. You may be surprised at how positively many people
respond to the words, "I was wrong"!

Naturally, it is a risk. But to admit when you are wrong is not to
confess that you are a "bad" person. Simply an honest one and true
friends will appreciate you for it.

Whole and happy lives are built by people who have learned the
power of intimacy, in part, through the use of the words "I was
wrong."

The artist

Once upon a time, a well-known painter was working on a painting. It’s an incredibly beautiful painting to be shown at the Airport during the upcoming festival season. The painter wanted this painting to be a master piece.

He worked on it for weeks on the top of a 24 storey building. He was consumed by and excited with his own painting that he unconsciously took a few step backward while admiring the 2 x 8 m painting. He didn’t look back when he walked backward. He kept on walking backward until it was a step away from the edge of the 24storey building. Just one more step backward and he could have fallen to his death.

A man saw what the painter was doing and was about to shout at him to warn him when he realized that his shout might surprise the painter and thus make him take that fatal one step backward and fall down. So the man took a brush and some paint and began to paint on the beautiful painting until it was damaged.

Upon realizing what happened to his painting, the painter got very angry and moved forward to hit the man. However, some other people who were also present at the vicinity held him and showed him his last position which almost made him fall.

MORAL: Sometimes we have painted our future with such beauty and dreamed of beautiful days we will spend with our loved one, but then God seemes to destroy our beautiful painting when God sees what danger lies ahead of us. Sometimes we are angry and annoyed by what God has done to us, but one thing we have to keep in our mind is that our Creator is Most Wise and always keeps our best of interest in mind!

So when God, in His Infinite Wisdom, tests us with a situation that we think is  difficult or takes away something that in our mind was good for us, we need to remember that perhaps it may not be so. Perhaps if we had continued in our way, it might have been harmful for us and whatever God decreed for us is actually better for us, for He is All-Wise and All-Knowing.

Pickle Jar

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They ended with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled. I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window.

When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son.

You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back." Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly.

"These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me." We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again."

He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. "You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to that."

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser

where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.

When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make away out for me. "When you finish college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening, "You'll never have to eat beans again...unless you want to."

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. "She probably needs to be changed," she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room.

"Look," she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.

With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt.

Neither one of us could speak.

Passing on the spark.

Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.

Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always say, "My mom's going to hear me play someday." But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming

recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. "Miss Hondorf... I've just got to play!" he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right.

The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my "curtain closer."

Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an eggbeater through it. "Why didn't he dress up like the other students?" I thought. "Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?"

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on pianissimo to fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso.

His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by a person his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard you play like that Robby! How'd you do it?" Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf...remember I told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special." There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. No, I've never had a protigi but that night I became a protigi... of Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.

And now, a footnote to the story.

This story has been passed around by e-mail. It has not yet been proven to be a true story as no mention has been made of the exact name of the music teacher nor of the boy. The story proves that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities a day to help realize God's plan. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: "Do we pass along a spark of the Divine?"

Passing on the spark

Crab trolls

There is a type of crab that cannot be caught -- it is agile and clever enough to get out of any crab trap. And yet, these crabs are caught by the thousands every day, thanks to a particular human trait they possess.

The trap is a wire cage with a hole at the top. Bait is placed in the cage, and the cage is lowered into the water. One crab comes along, enters the cage, and begins munching on the bait. A second crab joins him. A third. Crab Thanksgiving. Yummm. Eventually, however, all the bait is gone.

The crabs could easily climb up the side of the cage and through the hole, but they do not. They stay in the cage. Other crabs come along and join them -- long after the bait is gone. And more.

Should one of the crabs realize there is no further reason to stay in the trap and attempts to leave, the other crabs will gang up on him and stop him. They will repeatedly pull him off the side of the cage. If he is persistent, the others will tear off his claws to keep him from climbing. If he persists still, they will kill him.

The crabs -- by force of the majority -- stay together in the cage. The cage is hauled up, and it's dinnertime on the pier.

The chief difference between these crabs and humans is that these crabs live in water and humans on land.

Anyone who has a dream -- one that might get them out of what they perceive to be a trap -- had best beware of the fellow-inhabitants of the trap.

The human crabs (we call them trolls) do not usually use physical force -- although they are certainly not above it. They generally don't need it, however. They have more effective methods at hand, and in mouth -- innuendo, doubt, ridicule, derision, mockery, sarcasm, scorn, sneering, belittlement, humiliation, jeering, taunting, teasing, lying, and dozen others not listed in our thesaurus.

The way to handle such people is the the same method used by Jonathon Joffrey Crab on his clan. (Remember that book about the crab that wasn't content to walk around, he wanted to learn underwater ballet?) Jonathon, knowing the dangers of attempted departure from the cage, said, "Hey! This is fun! What a gathering of crabs! I'm going to go get some more!" And he danced off to freedom.

Moral: keep the trolls away from your goals.

Crab trolls

There is a type of crab that cannot be caught -- it is agile and clever enough to get out of any crab trap. And yet, these crabs are caught by the thousands every day, thanks to a particular human trait they possess.

The trap is a wire cage with a hole at the top. Bait is placed in the cage, and the cage is lowered into the water. One crab comes along, enters the cage, and begins munching on the bait. A second crab joins him. A third. Crab Thanksgiving. Yummm. Eventually, however, all the bait is gone.

The crabs could easily climb up the side of the cage and through the hole, but they do not. They stay in the cage. Other crabs come along and join them -- long after the bait is gone. And more.

Should one of the crabs realize there is no further reason to stay in the trap and attempts to leave, the other crabs will gang up on him and stop him. They will repeatedly pull him off the side of the cage. If he is persistent, the others will tear off his claws to keep him from climbing. If he persists still, they will kill him.

The crabs -- by force of the majority -- stay together in the cage. The cage is hauled up, and it's dinnertime on the pier.

The chief difference between these crabs and humans is that these crabs live in water and humans on land.

Anyone who has a dream -- one that might get them out of what they perceive to be a trap -- had best beware of the fellow-inhabitants of the trap.

The human crabs (we call them trolls) do not usually use physical force -- although they are certainly not above it. They generally don't need it, however. They have more effective methods at hand, and in mouth -- innuendo, doubt, ridicule, derision, mockery, sarcasm, scorn, sneering, belittlement, humiliation, jeering, taunting, teasing, lying, and dozen others not listed in our thesaurus.

The way to handle such people is the the same method used by Jonathon Joffrey Crab on his clan. (Remember that book about the crab that wasn't content to walk around, he wanted to learn underwater ballet?) Jonathon, knowing the dangers of attempted departure from the cage, said, "Hey! This is fun! What a gathering of crabs! I'm going to go get some more!" And he danced off to freedom.

Moral: keep the trolls away from your goals.

24 points

Your presence is a present to the world.
You are unique and one of a kind.
Your life can be what you want it to be.
Take the days just one at a time.

Count your blessings, not your troubles.
You will make it through whatever comes along.
Within you are so many answers.
Understand, have courage, be strong.

Do not put limits on yourself.
So many dreams are waiting to be realized.
Decisions are too important to leave to chance.
Reach for your peak, your goal and you prize.

Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.
The longer one carries a problem the heavier it gets.
Do not take things too seriously.
Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.

Remember that a little love goes a long way.
Remember that a lot goes forever.
Remember that friendship is a wise investment.
Life’s treasure are people together.

Realize that it is never too late.
Do ordinary things in an extraordinary way.
Have hearth and hope and happiness.
Take the time to wish upon a start.

AND DO NOT EVER FORGET., FOR EVEN A DAY HOW VERY SPECIAL YOU ARE!

How high can u Jump !!!

Flea trainers have observed a predictable and strange habit of fleas while training them. Fleas are trained by putting them in a cardboard box with a top on it. The fleas will jump up and hit the top of the cardboard box over and over and over again. As you watch them jump and hit the lid, something very interesting becomes obvious.

The fleas continue to jump, but they are no longer jumping high enough to hit the top. Apparently, Excedrin headache 1738 forces them to limit the height of their jump.

When you take off the lid, the fleas continue to jump, but they will not jump out of the box. They won't jump out because they can't jump out.

Why?

The reason is simple. They have conditioned themselves to jump just so high. Once they have conditioned themselves to jump just so high, that's all they can do!

Many times, people do the same thing. They restrict themselves and never reach their potential. Just like the fleas, they fail to jump higher, thinking they are doing all they can do.

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12 & 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called "Smile".

The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought, this would be a piece of cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son.

We were standing in line, waiting to be served when, all of a sudden, everyone around us began to back away; even my husband did. I did not move an inch - an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I truned around, I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell and, there, standing behind me, were two poor homeless men.

As I looked down at the short gentleman closest to me, I noticed he was "smiling". His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, "Good day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and the blue eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears back as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said, "Coffee is all, Miss", because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant to warm up, they had to buy something. They just wanted to be warm.)

Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great that I almost reached out to embrace the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed that all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action. I smiled then and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on another tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman's cold hand. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Thank you." I leaned over to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope."

I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down, my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me, Honey... To give me hope." We held hands for a moment and, at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given, were we able to give.

Coffee is all, Miss....

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12 & 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called "Smile".

The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought, this would be a piece of cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son.

We were standing in line, waiting to be served when, all of a sudden, everyone around us began to back away; even my husband did. I did not move an inch - an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I truned around, I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell and, there, standing behind me, were two poor homeless men.

As I looked down at the short gentleman closest to me, I noticed he was "smiling". His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, "Good day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and the blue eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears back as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said, "Coffee is all, Miss", because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant to warm up, they had to buy something. They just wanted to be warm.)

Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great that I almost reached out to embrace the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed that all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action. I smiled then and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on another tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman's cold hand. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Thank you." I leaned over to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope."

I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down, my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me, Honey... To give me hope." We held hands for a moment and, at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given, were we able to give.

Build a bridge.

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side,sharing machinery, and trading labour and goods as needed without a hitch. Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work,” he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there I could help with? Could I help you?", "Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbour; in fact, it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us.

Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber by the barn? I want you to build me a fence--an 8-foot fence--so I won't need to see his place or his face anymore."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was no fence there at all.

It was a bridge--a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work handrails and all--and the neighbour, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched. "You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done." The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder.

"No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but I have many more bridges to build."

Believe in yourself

Believing in ourselves is very important in our quest for athletic glory. Believing will help us to get through rough times and difficult situations. Don’t get me wrong, we all have doubts about ourselves at times. This is natural. However, we must understand that “believing” plays a vital role in our performance and advancement.

My favorite example of someone who had a strong belief in their self was Muhammed Ali in the 1974 World Heavyweight Boxing Championship, “Rumble in the Jungle.” Ali was challenging George Foreman, who was the reigning World Champion. Foreman was crushing all of his opponents. He knocked out most of all of the top contenders prior to this big event in Zaire, Africa. No one thought that Ali could beat Foreman. In fact, even Ali’s own trainers and coaches thought that Ali was going to get destroyed against the seemingly unstoppable Foreman.

As described in the documentary, “When We Were Kings,” before the fight, Ali’s dressing room was like a morgue. It was like Ali was going to his “last supper.” At one point Ali noticed that everyone was down and sad. Ali turned and said, “What is the matter with you people? Why is everybody so unhappy?”

They, his support team, believed that Ali was going to be defeated. And, they were terrified. They thought with his pride that he would take one of the world’s worst beatings ever and he would not give up. They thought that Ali would be destroyed in the ring. They thought he would possibly be killed. They were deeply frightened.

Then Ali looked to Drew “Bundini Brown (Ali’s trainer) and said, “We’re gonna dance, we’re gonna dance and dance!” Then he turned to them and said, “What are we gonna do?” And they said, “Your gonna dance, your gonna dance and dance!”

Ali chanted, “We’re gonna dance tonight, aren’t we…. and Foremand…. he is gonna be bewildered!”

Ali repeated this over and over until his dressing room of trainers and support team were crying. And with that, Ali built them up so as to make them “half” happy.

The atmosphere at the beginning of the fight was as intense as ever before a Championship bout. Ali was expected to dance, however at the start of the first round Ali did not dance. He came at Foreman with a different strategy. He threw 12 right hand leads in that first round trying to knock Foreman down or out. But instead of knocking Foreman down or out, Foreman went crazy. He started throwing powerful punches, over and over again, a lot of them connecting with Ali.

The bell rang ending the first round. Ali went to his corner. The nightmare that had awaited Ali finally came to visit. Ali was in the ring with a man that he could not dominate. He was in the right with a man who was stronger, not afraid, determined, and could punch harder and was unstoppable.

Ali had a look on his face that for the first time showed fear. Then as he stood there catching his breath, you could see him looking into himself and he seemed to be thinking, “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. It is that hour.” He seemed to be thinking, “Do you have the guts, boy?” Then he nodded his head, seeming saying to himself, “You’ve gotta get it together. You ARE going to get it together. You WILL get it together.” And as he continued to nod and not to himself, as if he was looking into the eyes of his maker, he turned to the crowd and chanted “ALI BOMA YE!” which means, “Ali, kill him!”

The crowd went wild and started chanting, “Ali boma ye!, Ali boma ye!” and Ali went back out in the ring as if he had a new focus and energy. He picked up the pace…

The next four rounds George Foreman with his powerful punches continued to wallop and bash at Ali, as Ali went to the “rope-a-dope.” Again, and again Foreman pummeled Ali against the ropes.

Ali was bobbing and weaving taking most of the powerful punches and sliding a few. And as Foreman whacked ferociously at Ali, Ali kept talking to him, “George, you’re not hitting hard enough. I thought you hit harder. George, you are not even breaking popcorn.”

As Ali kept taunting him, George Foreman continued to slug at him. By the end of the fifth round Foreman had punched himself out. It took five rounds for George to exhaust himself.

Then in the eight round, Ali spun Foreman around in the ring and threw a combination of punches which, in a spectacular fashion, knocked Foreman down and out!

Ali was World Heavyweight Champion once again!

I think this is one of the ultimate examples of a man who had to believe in himself. When no one else did, he still believed.

It is not really important that Ali knocked out George Foreman to make his dream come true, what is important is that YOU can make your dream come true. You can achieve anything you want in this life.

Have the attitude “Expect to Win.” Set your goals high and see yourself winning. Enjoy the battle and the journey along the way. Get tough and make it fun and you will get to the top in your sport and in life!

Your turn

I was on my way to the mountains to visit The Homestead about four years ago to soak up the scenery and cleanse my soul. It's a ritual that is like pressing a reset button in my life. The scenery is so beautiful.

While driving, I got the urge to stop in a small town to go a dollar store to buy some colored writing tablets. These tablets inspire me and the colors seem to be able to pull the words out of me.

I got off at the Lexington exit and saw a Dollar Tree Store. I had never shopped there and didn't know if I would find the tablets that I love there. I almost decided to keep driving and go to the next exit, but instead, stopped for lunch and then went to the store. I did find some pretty writing tablets and was eager to get back on the road to get to The Homestead.

When I went to pay for them, I realized I had left my cash at home and only had $8 on me. I had credit cards thankfully and my purchase came to $7.28. That was ironic because of what happened next.

As I was pulling out of the parking lot approaching the stop sign, there stood a woman holding a sign that said, "Stranded - need money to get back to Michigan." I read her sign and briefly our eyes met. I drove off, but instantly I knew that THIS was the real reason that I was prompted to get off at that exit.

I went to the nearest gas station and explained to the attendant that I wanted to help the lady just down the street who was stranded. I would charge the gas to my credit card, give her the receipt, and he was to accept the receipt and give her the gas.

He tried to discourage me, saying that somebody had a similar sign on a camper a couple of days before. But that didn't matter to me. I was sure in my heart that I was the person who was supposed to help this woman. I would rather be counted as an angel in the eyes of God than a fool in the eyes of the gas attendant.

Besides, many many years ago in the cold of winter I passed by a lady without a coat. The still small voice said "give her your coat." I only had one winter coat myself, but I did have an all weather coat at home. I kept going, but once inside I knew it had to be God nudging me to do this and I decided to do it. I was only in the building for a few minutes but when I came out she was no where to be found. I felt awful. I made the decision then and there that I would always honor that still small voice.

I imagined how this woman from Michigan must have felt being miles away from home, a stranger counting on the goodness of others to extend her a helping hand. I felt a warm feeling inside knowing that I would be the bridge to get her back on the road and "back home."

I remembered being stranded with just a flat tire, but that can be stressful if you don't have a spare. It took 45 minutes before someone stopped to help me. I knew that someone would. I just had to be patient. I knew this because I have always tried to sow good seeds and be generous so I knew that in MY time of need, someone would step up to the plate and help me.

This lady was miles from home and stranded. Yet God knew exactly where she was and used me to answer her prayer. I left home thinking I was going on vacation. I got off the exit thinking I was buying writing tablets, but God had another assignment for me that day.

Suppose I had listened to the gas attendant for fear that I was being taken advantage of? Suppose she really was taking advantage of me? I may never know.

This I do know: If you have never been in that place in your life, it's easy to dismiss a person who is reaching out for help. But if you have been at a low place in life, you will always rise to the occasion because you remember "when" and the old saying "there but for the grace of God go I."

You never know how you will be used to answer the whispered prayer of someone else. When you feel the gentle urge to be a good person, rise to the occasion.

Or maybe YOU are the one stranded at an unfamiliar location in your life like the woman was -- remember God knows exactly where you are and will send you the help you need. Don't be discouraged if people keep passing you buy. The right person with the right heart is on their way to you.

A good person is coming your way. And when things get better for you, it's your turn to be one.