I am Thankful

For the wife,

Who says it's hot dogs tonight,

Because she is home with me and not out with someone else.

For the husband who is,

On the sofa being a couch potato,

Because he is home with me and not out at the bar.

For the teenager,

Who is complaining about doing dishes,

Because it means she is at home and not on the street.

For the taxes I pay,

Because it means I am employed.

For the mess to clean after a party,

Because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

For clothes that fit a little too snug,

Because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work,

Because it means I am out in the sunshine.

For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning,

And gutters that need fixing, because it means I have a home.

For all the complaining I hear about the government,

Because it means we have freedom of speech.

For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot,

Because it means I am capable of walking

And I have been blessed with transportation.

For my huge heating bill, because it means I am very warm.

For the lady behind me in church who sings off key,

Because it means I can hear.

For the pile of laundry and ironing,

Because it means I have clothes to wear.

For weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day,

Because it means I have been capable of working hard.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours,

Because it means I am ALIVE.

-- Author Unknown

Volunteer Victims

It’s a great temptation to volunteer as a victim. Do you know that we sign up for that job?

A man who dined regularly in his favorite restaurant complained about the bread. It wasn’t fair, he emphasized, that other restaurants served lots of bread. But here he gets only one piece.

So the next time he came in, they served him four pieces. He still complained it wasn’t enough.

On his next visit his server brought him a dozen pieces of bread. The man still complained.

For his next visit they put a large basket of bread on the table. But still he complained. “The other restaurants give all the bread you can eat.”

They decided to be ready for him the next day. They had an enormous loaf of bread prepared. It was six feet long and two feet wide. Four people carried the loaf to his table. They plopped it down in front of him. It took up half the table and hung over both sides. The chef stood back, pleased with himself, to see how the customer would react.

He looked over the loaf and commented, “So, we’re back to one piece again, are we?”

Like this man, we volunteer to be victims, but in more subtle ways. We believe life is unfair, people are untrustworthy and we are getting a bad shake. We think everyone should know just how terrible things are and we feel obliged to tell them.

One man says of a friend that he hates to ask her how she is feeling because he knows ahead of time what she will say. “You get an organ recital from her,” he says. She dwells on her health problems to the exclusion of everything good in her life.

The problem is, life sometimes is unfair and we can be victimized. But the greater truth is, people can decide whether they are victims or are victors. They can feel helpless and miserable, or they can try to feel strong. Happy people have learned that they cannot always control their circumstances, but they can often control how they will respond.

Lewis Dunning said, “What life means to us is determined not so much by what life brings to us as by the attitude we bring to life; not so much by what happens to us as by our reaction to what happens.”

You were born to be a victor! You were meant to be happy! Will you claim your birthright today?

-– Steve Goodier (Life Support System)

Sack Lunches

I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat.  It was going to be a long flight. 'I'm glad I have a good book to read.  Perhaps I will get a short nap,' I thought.

Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me.  I decided to start a conversation.  "Where are you headed?" I asked the soldier seated nearest to me.

"Great Lakes Air Base.  We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Iraq," he answered.

After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars.  It would be several hours before we reached Chicago, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time.

As I reached for my wallet, I overheard the soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch.  "No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch.  Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks.  I'll wait till we get to Chicago."

His friend agreed.

I looked around at the other soldiers.  None were buying lunch.  I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill.  "Take a lunch to all those soldiers."  She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly.  Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me.  "My son was a soldier in Iraq... it's almost like you are doing it for him."

Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated.  She stopped at my seat and asked, "Which do you like best - beef or chicken?" "Chicken," I replied, wondering why she asked.

She turned and went to the front of plane, returning  a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. "This is your thanks."

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room.  A man stopped me.

"I saw what you did.  I want to be part of it.  Here, take this."  He handed me twenty-five dollars.

Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand, and said, "I want to shake your hand."

Quickly unfastening my seat belt I stood and took the Captain's hand.  With a booming voice he said, "I was a soldier and I was a military pilot.  Once, someone bought me a lunch.  It was an act of kindness I never forgot."  I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.

Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs.  A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine.  He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.

When we landed in Chicago, I gathered my belongings and started to deplane.  Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word.  Another twenty-five dollars!

Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base.  I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars.  "It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich.  God Bless You."

Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers.  As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return.  These soldiers were giving their all for our country.  I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little.

-- Author Unknown

Broken Eggs and Shattered Glass

 . . . with my sincere thanks to those late night pranksters! 

On a recent Saturday evening at around midnight, my wife and I were just about to turn out the light and go to sleep when we heard the sounds of a group of people talking in the street, outside our home. Then out of the blue came two loud thuds above our bedroom window, followed by the noise of laughter and people running away down our street.

We both jumped out of bed, I turned on the external lights and rushed outside unsure of what had caused the two thuds or what damage I could expect to see. The silence of the night was broken by the distant sound of people laughing and at that moment I was of a mind to chase after them, however, running bare-footed on the road in the dark is not a very wise thing to do.

I could hear dripping noises on the driveway and the flood light above our garage helped me to identify just what had happened. Our home had been the victim of an egg bombing!

Being faced with the prospect of cleaning up this sticky mess in the early hours of the morning was not a pleasing thought, on top of which I was less than impressed that we had been singled out for this annoying prank. I decided that it was too late to clean up the mess, as it would disturb our neighbors, so it could wait to the morning.

Early next morning with a bucket of warm water and scrubbing brush in hand, and with the extension ladder placed on the front wall, I was now ready to wash off what was now two dry yellowish, egg grit impregnated, 1 meter long patches above our front bedroom windows.

My task was made even more challenging by the two large canvas awnings which protect our bedroom windows from the heat and glare of the afternoon sun. My annoyance with the late night pranksters was again building to the level of the night before.

After retracting each of the awnings, something we rarely do except when there is are very high winds, I then climbed the ladder to clean up the first patch of egg stain and then move the ladder to clean the second patch.

As I climbed the ladder for the second time, I noticed that the glass in a small window just under the roof line was very badly cracked. On closer inspection the crack ran around over half of the outer edge of the window pane. As the awning protected the window, it was clear to me that the damage had not been caused by the egg bombing. As I carefully placed my hand on the glass, I discovered that the pane of glass was very loose and had the window been closed with any force, it would have most likely shattered and the glass dropped to the drive way, some seven metres below.

Just a few meters away, we have a basketball ring and on most days of the week there are up to six young people who play in the immediate area, including both my sons. My thoughts immediately turned to what could have happened if the broken glass in the window had gone undetected for much longer and then suddenly shattered. The likelihood of my two sons and their friends being seriously injured was extremely high. 

After quickly washing the remaining egg stain off the front wall and with the help of Tom, my youngest son, I got to work with some heavy duty masking tape and secured the cracked window as best I could. Within 24 hours the cracked window had been replaced and all was back to normal, except for the small bits of egg shell I kept finding on the front drive way and stuck to our garage doors.

Over the next few days, I realized that had our home not been bombarded by those eggs late on that Saturday night, I may not have discovered the broken window pane before it shattered and came down all over our drive way.

Even though it had been an annoyance at time, the broken eggs and the stains were cleaned up very quickly, however, the pain that could have been caused by the shattering of glass would never gone away and would have haunted my wife and myself, forever and a day.

The cold shudder that ran down my spine when I first discovered the cracked window and the thought about the consequences of someone being seriously injured or even killed, made me realize just how very lucky we had been.

Frequently in life, the small things that happen to us may have a negative impact and cause some form of pain, sadness, discomfort or personal aggravation. It is often said that we should not 'sweat the small stuff' and always look for the positive outcome or the silver lining in those dark clouds of the current circumstance, even though at the time that is not always an easy thing to do.

My personal experience with the egg bombing on that Saturday evening reminded me that in most cases there is always a flip side to everything that happens to us and that often the flip side can provide a positive outcome or an even greater benefit, if not now, then at some time in the future.
From now on whenever I see or break an egg, I will think of the egg bombing incident and say a thank you to those late night pranksters. Equally, I will always be reminded of Jean-Paul Sartre's quote: 

'What is important is not what happens to us, but how we respond to what happens to us'

-- Keith Ready
 

Every Breath is a Gift

This was written by an 83 year-old woman to her friend. The last line says it all.

Dear Bertha:

I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

 

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good China and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries.

 

I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank. Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.

 

I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was. I'm guessing; I'll never know.

 

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

 

If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. If you're too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn't do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won't be the last.

 

Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about, just to let them know that you're thinking of them. People say "True friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there." I don't believe in Miracles. I rely on them.

 

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

 

 

-- Author Unknown

 

 

Wet Pants

A nine-year-old was kid sitting at his desk when suddenly there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.

The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat"

He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.

As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap. The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"

Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym short to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.

She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. "You've done enough, you klutz!"

Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."

 

 

-- Author Unknown

 

 

How to Live More Thankfully

A man lay in a hospital bed worried about whether he would live or die. He called his pastor to come pray for him. He told her that if he got well, he'd donate $20,000 to the church.

The pastor prayed and the man eventually DID get well and returned home. But no check came to the church. The pastor paid him a visit.

"I see you're doing quite well now," she observed. "I was just wondering about the promise you made."

"What promise?" he asked.

"You said you'd give $20,000 to the church if you recovered."

"I did?" he exclaimed. "That goes to show you just how sick I really was!"

It is easy to give thanks -- or to show it -- when we feel grateful. But gratitude is not a feeling we can manufacture. Nor are we born feeling especially grateful.

Children don't express much thanks by nature. Conveying appreciation is something we learn. And, here's the good news, we have a lifetime to get better at it.

We teach our children to say thanks and, in time, they develop stronger feelings of gratitude. My children could talk before they were weaned from diapers, but one thing they never said was, "Thank you for changing my dirty diapers, Dad. I know that is a messy job. I appreciate all you and Mom are doing for me." Too bad. Sometimes we deserved a BIG thank you.

Once they became car sick at the beginning of a road trip, and I think they should have written a long thank-you letter to us for cleaning it up. Even though their mother and I spent almost a half hour scrubbing the carpet in a convenience store parking lot at seven degrees below zero (our metric system readers will recognize that as -22 degrees Celsius), they never did said, "Gosh, guys, you're the greatest parents ever! We are SO lucky to be part of this family."

But that's all right. Naturally, we wouldn't expect small children to thank their parents for being parents. And for most people, feelings of gratitude come with empathy as we mature. The more we express thanks, the more gratitude we feel. The more gratitude we feel, the more we express thanks. It's circular, and it leads to a happier life.

And that's the point. People who are generally happier got that way, at least in part, through gratitude.  

Here are three simple steps to help anybody live more thankfully and to respond more authentically.

First, recognize WHEN a thankful response is appropriate. We take for granted too many of the things that we should be giving thanks for.

Second, spend a moment reflecting on how another's thoughtfulness makes you feel. Be intentional about this.

Then third, from a sincere feeling of gratitude, give thanks. Say it. Write it. It doesn't matter. But when you do, you will discover a side benefit – you are becoming a happier person.

–- Steve Goodier (Life Support System)