Отправлено: 05.05.10 16:58. Заголовок: Too Busy for a Friend...

Too Busy for a Friend...

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual..

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. 'Really?' she heard whispered. 'I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!' and, 'I didn't know others liked me so much,' were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another.. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students was killed in VietNam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.

As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. 'Were you Mark's math teacher?' he asked. She nodded: 'yes.' Then he said: 'Mark talked about you a lot.'

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

'We want to show you something,' his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket 'They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.'

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

'Thank you so much for doing that,' Mark's mother said. 'As you can see, Mark treasured it.'

All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, 'I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home.'

Chuck's wife said, 'Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.'

'I have mine too,' Marilyn said. 'It's in my diary'

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. 'I carry this with me at all times,' Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: 'I think we all saved our lists'

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important.. Tell them, before it is too late.

 Отправлено: 03.05.10 16:52. Заголовок: prayer

A drunk man in an Oldsmobile

They said had run the light

That caused the six-car pileup

On 109 that night.


When broken bodies lay about

And blood was everywhere,

The sirens screamed out eulogies,

For death was in the air.


A mother, trapped inside her car,

Was heard above the noise;

Her plaintive plea near split the air:

Oh, God, please spare my boys!


She fought to loose her pinned hands;

She struggled to get free,

But mangled metal held her fast

In grim captivity.

Her frightened eyes then focused

On where the back seat once had been,

But all she saw was broken glass and

Two children's seats crushed in.

Her twins were nowhere to be seen;

She did not hear them cry,

And then she prayed they'd been thrown free,

Oh, God, don't let them die!


Then firemen came and cut her loose,

But when they searched the back,

They found therein no little boys,

But the seat belts were intact.


They thought the woman had gone mad

And was traveling alone,

But when they turned to question her,

They discovered she was gone.

Policemen saw her running wild

And screaming above the noise

In beseeching supplication,

Please help me find my boys!

They're four years old and wear blue shirts;

Their jeans are blue to match.

One cop spoke up, They're in my car,

And they don't have a scratch.

They said their daddy put them there

And gave them each a cone,

Then told them both to wait for Mom

To come and take them home.

I've searched the area high and low,

But I can't find their dad.

He must have fled the scene,

I guess, and that is very bad.


The mother hugged the twins and said,

While wiping at a tear,

He could not flee the scene, you see,

For he's been dead a year.



The cop just looked confused and asked,

Now, how can that be true?

The boys said, Mommy, Daddy came

And left a kiss for you.

He told us not to worry

And that you would be all right,

And then he put us in this car with

The pretty, flashing light.

We wanted him to stay with us,

Because we miss him so,

But Mommy, he just hugged us tight

And said he had to go.

He said someday we'd understand

And told us not to fuss,

And he said to tell you, Mommy,

He's watching over us.



The mother knew without a doubt

That what they spoke was true,

For she recalled their dad's last words,

I will watch over you.



The firemen's notes could not explain

The twisted, mangled car,

And how the three of them escaped

Without a single scar.

But on the cop's report was scribed,

In print so very fine,

An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.

 Отправлено: 05.05.10 23:01. Заголовок: :sm19: :sm19: :sm..

 Отправлено: 09.05.10 14:24. Заголовок: на эту же тему F A ..

на эту же тему

F A M I L Y

I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" was my reply.


He said, "Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you."


We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said goodbye.


But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.


Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.


When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.


He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.


While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,


"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
but the family you love, you seem to abuse.


Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.


Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.


He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."


By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.


I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.


"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.

I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."


I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay.
I love you anyway."


I said, "Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."


FAMILY
Are you aware that if we died tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days.
But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.


And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than into our own family, an unwise investment indeed, don't you think?
So what is behind the story?


Do you know what the word FAMILY means?
FAMILY = (F)ATHER (A)ND (M)OTHER (I) (L)OVE (Y)OU