How Much Is A Miracle?

This story is from http://www.inspire21.com/
-- Author Unknown

Tess was a precocious eight year old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor bills and their house. Only a very costly surgery could save Andrew now and it was looking like there was no one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all of 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?" asked the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew, and he has something bad growing inside of 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 you 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 kind of miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without 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.

The Good News Girl

A story from Motivation in a Minute Newsletter, March 18, 2008

The Good News Girl ...By Mac Anderson

One of the most wonderful things about having a positive attitude is the number of people it touches, many times in ways you'll never know.

Not long ago I was in Nashville, Tennessee and I went into a convenience store to get a newspaper and a pack a gum.
The young women at the check-out counter said, "That 'll be five dollars please," and as I reached into my wallet, the thought occurred to me that a newspaper and gum didn't quite make it to five dollars.
When I looked up to get a "re-quote", she had a big smile on her face and said, "Gotcha!
I got to get my tip in there somehow!". I laughed when I knew I'd been had. She then glanced down at the paper I was buying and said, "I'm sick and tired of all this negative stuff on the front pages. I want to read some good news for a change." She then said, "In fact, I think someone should just publish a Good News newspaper - a paper with wonderful, inspiring stories about people overcoming adversity and doing good things for others. I'd buy one everyday!"
She then thanked me for coming in and said, "Maybe we'll get lucky tomorrow; maybe we'll get some good news," and she laughed. She made my day.

The following day, after my business appointments, I dropped by the same store again to pick up a bottled water, but a different young lady was behind the counter. As I checked out I said, "Good afternoon," and handed her my money for the water. She said nothing - not a word, not a smile...nothing. She just handed me my change and in a negative tone ordered...."Next!" It hit me right between the eyes: Two people, same age; one made me feel great, and the other, well, made me feel that I had inconvenienced her by showing up.

By the choices we make, by the attitudes we exhibit, we are influencing lives every day in positive or negative ways...our family, our peers, our friends, and even strangers we've never met before and will never meet again. So when you brush your teeth every morning, look in the mirror and ask yourself..."Are there things I'd like to change?" How will you choose to live your Dash...as "the grouch" or as "the good news girl?" Your answer will go a long way toward determining the joy and happiness that you will experience in your life

The Teacher Story

This Story comes from Motivation in a Minute Newsletter, February 13, 2008

Excerpted from The Simple Truths of Appreciation
By Babara Glanz

In my keynote speeches and workshops, Care is an acronym I use for the elements of a caring, creative, joyful workplace and home. The “A” in CARE stands for “Appreciation for ALL.” As I speak about appreciation, I use this quote by Albert Schweitzer:

"Sometimes our light goes out but is blown again into flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light."

Then I ask my audiences to please shut their eyes and think about someone, who at some time in their lives, has rekindled their inner light. I leave the room in silence for several minutes, and it is always a profound experience as they remember the JOY they received from being appreciated by someone when they needed it the most. Afterwards, I ask them to write down the name of the person they thought of and to commit to their own act of appreciation letting that person know in the next 72 hours that he or she was thought of. I suggest a phone call, a note, or even a little prayer if they are no longer living. After one moving session, a gentleman came up to talk with me and thanked me for creating a new awareness in him. He said he thought of his eighth grade literature teacher because she was everyone’s favorite teacher, and had really made a difference in all of their lives. He planned to track her down and let me know what happened.

One afternoon nearly two and a half months later I received a call from him. He was choked up on the phone he could hardly get through his story. He said that it had taken him nearly two months to track his teacher down, and when he finally found her, he wrote to her. The following week he received this letter:

Dear John,
You will never know how much your letter meant to me. I am 83 years old, and I am living all alone in one room. My friends are all gone. My family’s gone. I taught 50 years and yours is the first “thank you” letter I have ever gotten from a student. Sometimes I wonder what I did with my life. I will read and reread your letter until the day I die.

He just sobbed on the phone. He said, “She is always the one we talk about at every reunion. She was everyone’s favorite teacher- we loved her! But no one had ever told her… until she received his letter."

"Traditions"

This story comes from Motivation in a Minute Newsletter, February 6, 2008

Excerpted from:

To A Child. . . Love Is Spelled T.I.M.E. By Lance Wubbels

In the faint light of the attic, an old man, tall and stooped, bent his great frame and made his way to a stack of boxes that sat near one of the little half-windows. Brushing aside a wisp of cobwebs, he tilted the top box toward the light and began to carefully lift out one old photograph album after another. Eyes once bright but now dim searched longingly for the source that had drawn him here.

It began with the fond recollection of the love of his life, long gone, and somewhere in these albums was a photo of her he hoped to rediscover. Silent as a mouse, he patiently opened the long-buried treasures and soon was lost in a sea of memories. Although his world had not stopped spinning when his wife left it, the past was more alive in his heart than his present aloneness.

Setting aside one of the dusty albums, he pulled from the box what appeared to be a journal from his grown son's childhood. He could not recall ever having seen it before, or that his son had ever kept a journal. Why did Elizabeth always save the children's old junk? he wondered, shaking his white head. Opening the yellowed pages, he glanced over a short entry, and his lips curved in an unconscious smile. Even his eyes brightened as he read the words that spoke clear and sweet to his soul.

It was the voice of the little boy who had grown up far too fast in this very house, and whose voice had grown fainter and fainter over the years. In the utter silence of the attic, the words of a guileless six-year-old worked their magic and carried the old man back to a time almost totally forgotten. Entry after entry stirred a sentimental hunger in his heart like the longing a gardener feels in the winter for the fragrance of spring flowers. But it was accompanied by the painful memory that his son's simple recollections of those days were far different from his own. But how different?

Reminded that he had kept a daily journal of his business activities over the years, he closed his son's journal and turned to leave, having forgotten the cherished photo that originally triggered his search. Hunched over to keep from bumping his head on the rafters, the old man stepped to the wooden stairway and made his descent, then headed down a carpeted stairway that led to the den. Opening a glass cabinet door, he reached in and pulled out an old business journal. Turning, he sat down at his desk and placed the two journals beside each other. His was leather bound and engraved neatly with his name in gold, while his son's was tattered and the name "Jimmy" had been nearly scuffed from its surface. He ran a long skinny finger over the letters, as though he could restore what had been worn away with time and use.

As he opened his journal, the old man's eyes fell upon an inscription that stood out because it was so brief in comparison to other days. In his own neat handwriting were these words:
Wasted the whole day fishing with Jimmy. Didn't catch a thing.

With a deep sigh and a shaking hand, he took Jimmy's journal and found the boy's entry for the same day, June 4. Large scrawling letters pressed deeply in the paper read:
Went fishing with my dad. Best day of my life.

SHARE your TIME

This story comes from an email sent by http://mrpositive.com/ on 12/12/07

A man came home from work late again, tired and irritated, to find his 5 year old son waiting for him at the door. "Daddy, may I ask you a question?" "Yeah, sure, what is it?" replied the man. "Daddy, how much money do you make an hour? "That's none of your business! What makes you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily. "I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy. "If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour." "Oh," the little boy replied, head bowed. Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I borrow $10.00 please?" The father was furious. "If the only reason you wanted to know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you're being so selfish. I work long, hard hours everyday and don't have time for such childish games." The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy's questioning. How dare him ask such questions only to get some money.

After an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his son. Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00, and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door. "Are you asleep son?" he asked. "No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy. "I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man. "It's been a long day and I took my aggravation out on you. Here's that $10.00 you asked for." The little boy sat straight up, beaming. "Oh, thank you daddy!" he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some more crumpled up bills. The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at the man. "Why did you want more money if you already had some?" the father grumbled. "Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied. "Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?" Our time is the most precious gift we can give one another...remember this story as you shop for your family and friends.

--Author Unknown

WOW!

This story comes from an email sent by http://www.mrpositive.com/ on 28.11.07

Last spring I was walking in a park. A short distance ahead of me was a mom and her three-year-old daughter. The little girl was holding on to a string that was attached to a helium balloon.

All of a sudden, a sharp gust of wind took the balloon from the little girl. I braced myself for some screaming and crying. But, no! As the little girl turned to watch her balloon go skyward, she gleefully shouted out, "Wow!
I didn't realize it at that moment, but that little girl taught me something.
Later that day, I received a phone call from a person with news of an unexpected problem. I felt like responding with "Oh no, what should we do?" But remembering that little girl, I found myself saying, "Wow, that's interesting! How can I help you?"
One thing's for sure - life's always going to keep us off balance with its unexpected problems. That's a given. What's not preordained is our response. We can choose to be frustrated or fascinated.

No matter what the situation, a fascinated "Wow!" will always beat a frustrated "Oh, no."
So the next time you experience one of life's unexpected gusts, remember that little girl and make it a "Wow!" experience. The "Wow!" response always works.

Rob Gilbert
Editor of "Bits & Pieces"