The King & Macaw Parrots

Once upon a time, there was a king who had gone to visit neighboring kingdoms. He was gifted a pair of baby Macaw Parrots by the king of the last kingdom where he was visiting. They were the most beautiful birds he had ever seen. So, upon returning to his kingdom, he called for a bird trainer and asked him to train macaw parrots.

The king also arranged a place in the palace garden for the parrots. He often looked at them from his palace window. As time passed, one day the trainer came to the palace and informed the king that though one of the parrots was flying majestically high in the sky, the other one was not moving from its branch since the day it had arrived.

Upon hearing this, the king summoned trainer and healers from the nearby kingdoms. They all tried their best, but couldn’t make the parrot fly! He even asked his courtiers to try to find a way to make the parrot fly but they all failed. The parrot was not moving from his branch at all. Finally, after trying everything, the king thought that maybe he needs someone who may be more familiar with natural habitat. He asked his courtier to get a farmer from the countryside and take him to the parrot to see if he can understand the problem with the parrot.

The next morning, the king was thrilled to see the parrot flying high above the palace gardens. He asked his servant to call that farmer to meet him. The servant quickly went and located the farmer, who came and stood before the king. The king asked him, “How did you make the parrot fly?”

With his hands folded with respect, the farmer said to the king, “It was very easy, your majesty. I simply cut the branch where the bird was sitting.”

Moral: We are all gifted with energy to find a success in our life, but fail to gather a courage which is required to reach heights of success and end up clinging to the things that are familiar to us. We need to free ourselves from our comfort zone to explore new opportunities and find a success beyond our capacity.

Live & Work

by Stephen

Father was a hardworking man who delivered bread as a living to support his wife and three children. He spent all his evenings after work attending classes, hoping to improve himself so that he could one day find a better paying job. Except for Sundays, Father hardly ate a meal together with his family. He worked and studied very hard because he wanted to provide his family with the best money could buy.

Whenever the family complained that he was not spending enough time with them, he reasoned that he was doing all this for them. But he often yearned to spend more time with his family.

The day came when the examination results were announced. To his joy, Father passed, and with distinctions too! Soon after, he was offered a good job as a senior supervisor which paid handsomely.

Like a dream come true, Father could now afford to provide his family with life’s little luxuries like nice clothing, fine food and vacation abroad.

However, the family still did not get to see father for most of the week. He continued to work very hard, hoping to be promoted to the position of manager. In fact, to make himself a worthily candidate for the promotion, he enrolled for another course in the open university.

Again, whenever the family complained that he was not spending enough time with them, he reasoned that he was doing all this for them. But he often yearned to spend more time with his family.

Father’s hard work paid off and he was promoted. Jubilantly, he decided to hire a maid to relieve his wife from her domestic tasks. He also felt that their three-room flat was no longer big enough, it would be nice for his family to be able to enjoy the facilities and comfort of a condominium. Having experienced the rewards of his hard work many times before, Father resolved to further his studies and work at being promoted again. The family still did not get to see much of him. In fact, sometimes Father had to work on Sundays entertaining clients. Again, whenever the family complained that he was not spending enough time with them, he reasoned that he was doing all this for them. But he often yearned to spend more time with his family.

As expected, Father’s hard work paid off again and he bought a beautiful condominium overlooking the coast of Singapore. On the first Sunday evening at their new home, Father declared to his family that he decided not to take anymore courses or pursue any more promotions. From then on he was going to devote more time to his family.

Father did not wake up the next day.

Live & Then Work.

What Goes Around ...Comes Around....

This is a true story that had happened in 1892 at Stanford University. It's moral is still relevant today.

A young, 18 year old student was struggling to pay his fees. He was an orphan, and not knowing where to turn for money, he came up with a bright idea. A friend and he decided to host a musical concert on campus to raise money for their education.

They reached out to the great pianist Ignacy J. Paderewski. His manager demanded a guaranteed fee of $2,000 for the piano recital. A deal was struck. And the boys began to work to make the concert a success.

The big day arrived. Paderewski performed at Stanford.

But unfortunately, they had not managed to sell enough tickets. The total collection was only $1,600. Disappointed, they went to Paderewski and explained their plight. They gave him the entire $1,600, plus a cheque for the balance of $400. They promised to honour the cheque soonest possible.

"No" said Paderewski. "This is not acceptable" He tore up the cheque, returned the $1,600 and told the boys "Here's the $1,600.
Please deduct whatever expenses you have incurred. Keep the money you need for your fees. And just give me whatever is left" The boys were surprised, and thanked him profusely.

It was a small act of kindness. But it clearly marked out Paderewski as a great human being. Why should he help two people he did not even know? We all come across situations like these in our lives.

And most of us only think "If I help them, what would happen to me?"

The truly great people think, "If I don't help them, what will happen to them?" They don't do it expecting something in return.

They do it because they feel it's the right thing to do.

Paderewski later went on to become the Prime Minister of Poland. He was a great leader, but unfortunately when the World War began, Poland was ravaged. There were over 1.5 million people starving in his country, and no money to feed them.

Paderewski did not know where to turn for help. He reached out to the US Food and Relief Administration for help.

The head was a man called Herbert Hoover - who later went on to become the US President. Hoover agreed to help and quickly shipped tons of food grains to feed the starving Polish people. A calamity was averted.

Paderewski was relieved. He decided to go across to meet Hoover and personally thank him. When Paderewski began to thank Hoover for his noble gesture, Hoover quickly interjected and said, "You shouldn't be thanking me, Mr. Prime Minister. You may not remember this, but several years ago, you helped two young students go through college in the US. I was one of them."

The world is a wonderful place... What goes around usually comes around.

Appreciation of Hard Work

One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.

He passed the first interview, the director did the last interview, made the last decision. The director discovered from the CV that the youth’s academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, Never had a year when he did not score.

The director asked, “Did you obtain any scholarships in school?” The youth answered “none”.

The director asked,  “Was it your father who paid for your school fees?” The youth answered, “My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees”.

The director asked,  “Where did your mother work?” The youth answered, “My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect”.

The director asked,  “Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?” The youth answered, “Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me”.

The director said, “I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother’s hands, and then see me tomorrow morning”.

The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid. The youth cleaned his mother’s hands slowly. His tears fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother’s hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water.

This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother’s hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future. After finishing the cleaning of his mother’s hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother. That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.

Next morning, the youth went to the director’s office.The Director noticed the tears in the youth’s eyes, asked:  “Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?” The youth answered,  “I cleaned my mother’s hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes”.

The Director asked,  “please tell me your feelings”. The youth said, “Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, By working together and helping my mother, only I now realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship”.

The director said,  “This is what I am looking for to be my manager. I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired”.

Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company’s performance improved tremendously.

Moral: If one doesn’t understand and experience the difficulty it takes to earn the comfort provided by their loved ones, than they will never value it.  The most important thing is to experience the difficulty and learn to value hard work behind all the given comfort.

The Badge Story

A landscape gardener ran a business that had been in the family for two or three generations. The staff were happy, and customers loved to visit the store, or to have the staff work on their gardens or make deliveries - anything from bedding plants to ride-on mowers.

For as long as anyone could remember, the current owner and previous generations of owners were extremely positive happy people.

Most folk assumed it was because they ran a successful business.

In fact it was the other way around...

A tradition in the business was that the owner always wore a big lapel badge, saying Business Is Great!

The business was indeed generally great, although it went through tough times like any other. What never changed however was the owner's attitude, and the badge saying Business Is Great!

Everyone who saw the badge for the first time invariably asked, "What's so great about business?" Sometimes people would also comment that their own business was miserable, or even that they personally were miserable or stressed.

Anyhow, the Business Is Great! badge always tended to start a conversation, which typically involved the owner talking about lots of positive aspects of business and work, for example:

-the pleasure of meeting and talking with different people every day
-the reward that comes from helping staff take on new challenges and experiences
-the fun and laughter in a relaxed and healthy work environment
-the fascination in the work itself, and in the other people's work and businesses
-the great feeling when you finish a job and do it to the best of your capabilities
-the new things you learn every day - even without looking to do so
-and the thought that everyone in business is blessed - because there are many millions of people who would swap their own situation to have the same opportunities of doing a productive meaningful job, in a civilized well-fed country, where we have no real worries.

And so the list went on. And no matter how miserable a person was, they'd usually end up feeling a lot happier after just a couple of minutes listening to all this infectious enthusiasm and positivity.

It is impossible to quantify or measure attitude like this, but to one extent or another it's probably a self-fulfilling prophecy, on which point, if asked about the badge in a quiet moment, the business owner would confide:

"The badge came first. The great business followed."

A Girl On the Roof

A girl was standing on the roof of a high building. After finding out that her husband was cheating on her, she wanted to end with her life. After a short hesitation, she made a step forward. The girl fell fast towards the ground. But just before the death, the fear filled her soul. Suddenly she felt like she was in someone’s embrace. She opened her eyes and saw an angel, who was holding her in his hands.

– Why didn’t you let me fall? – She asked with anger.
– I will let you go if you agree to die understanding that there won’t be any memories of you left on earth, nothing.
– How is that? – asked the girl in surprise.
– You don’t have children, who would remember you, your mother is old and she will die soon. And everyone else…they will forget about you soon…
– And my husband? He will blame himself for my death. If he will feel remorse all his life, he will remember me.
– That won’t happen, he doesn’t love you, he is happy with another woman. And he won’t blame himself for a long time, soon he will forget you.
– Fine, I believe you. But I have things, photographs.
– Your apartment will burn down after one year. And all your things will turn into ash…
– But my friends have photos of me.
– You don’t have friends, – the angel said quite coldly.
– But… I am on the collective school photos.
Suddenly, the angel started to unclamp his hands.
– You are letting me go because I proved to you that there will be memories about me left? – The girl asked mockingly.
– No. You are clinging to the strings so hard; you are convincing me that I would let you die, just like others are clinging to some futile opportunities so that they could live. I don’t want to spend these moments with you, because I could help other people during that time. I want to give people a chance to live, not to die.

It Should Once Again See Light

by Blair P. Grubb, M.D.

Several years ago, a physician from southern France contacted me.  His granddaughter had taken ill with a disease that baffled the physicians there.  He called after reading several of my articles on disorders of the autonomic nervous system.  His granddaughter's symptoms seemed to match those I had described, and he asked me if I could help.  I readily agreed, and for many months, I collaborated with the child's French physicians by telephone and by fax, directing their diagnostic testing.  At last we came to a diagnosis, and I prescribed a course of therapy.  During the next several weeks, the child made a seemingly miraculous recovery.  Her grandparents expressed their heartfelt thanks and told me to let them know should I ever come to France.

In the summer of 1996, I was invited to speak at a large international scientific meeting that was held in Nice, France.  I sent word to the physician I had helped years before.  Upon my arrival at the hotel, I received a message to contact him.  I called him, and we arranged a night to meet for dinner.
   
On the appointed day, we met and then drove north to his home in the beautiful southern French countryside.  It was humbling to learn his home was older than the United States.  During the drive he told me that his wife had metastatic breast cancer and was not well, but she insisted upon meeting me.  When introduced to her, I saw that despite her severe illness, she was still a beautiful woman with a noble bearing.
   
I was thereafter treated to one of the most wonderful meals I have ever eaten, complemented by the most exquisite of wines.  After dinner, we sat in a seventeenth-century salon, sipping cognac and chatting.  Our conversation must have seemed odd to the young man and woman who served us because it came out in a free-flowing mixture of English, French and Spanish.  After a time the woman asked, "My husband tells me you are Jewish, no?"
     "Yes," I said, "I am a Jew."
   
They asked me to tell them about Judaism, especially the holidays.  I did my best to explain and was astounded by how little they knew of Judaism.  She seemed to be particularly interested in Hannukah.
   
Once I had finished answering her questions, she suddenly looked me in the eye and said, "I have something I want to give to you."  She disappeared and returned several moments later with a package wrapped in cloth.  She sat, her tired eyes looking into mine, and she began to speak slowly.
   
"When I was a little girl of eight years, during the Second World War, the authorities came to our village to round up all the Jews.  My best friend at that time was a girl of my age named Jeanette.  One morning when I came to play, I saw her family being forced at gunpoint into a truck.  I ran home and told my mother what had happened and asked where Jeanette was going.  'Don't worry,' she said, 'Jeanette will be back soon.'  I ran back to Jeanette's house only to find that she was gone and that the other villagers were looting her home of valuables, except for the Judaic items, which were thrown into the street.  As I approached, I saw an item from her house lying in the dirt.  I picked it up and recognized it as an object that Jeanette and her family would light around Christmas time.  In my little girl's mind I said, 'I will take this home and keep it for Jeanette until she comes back,' but she and her family never returned."
   
She paused and took a slow sip of brandy.  "Since that time I have kept it.  I hid it from my parents and didn't tell a soul of its existence.  Indeed, over the last fifty years the only person who knew of it was my husband.  When I found out what really happened to the Jews, and how many of the people I knew had collaborated with the Nazis, I could not bear to look at it.  Yet I kept it, hidden, waiting for something, although I wasn't sure what.  Now I know what I was waiting for.  It was you, a Jew, who helped cure our granddaughter, and it is to you I entrust this."
   
Her trembling hands set the package on my lap.  I slowly unwrapped the cloth from around it.  Inside was a menorah, but one unlike any I had seen before.  Made of solid brass, it had eight cups for holding oil and wicks and a ninth cup centered above the others.  It had a ring attached to the top, and the woman mentioned that she remembered that Jeanette's family would hang it in the hallway of their home.  It looked quite old to me; later, several people told me that it is probably at least one hundred years old.  As I held it and thought about what it represented, I began to cry.  All I could manage to say was a garbled "merci."  As I left, her last words to me were "Il faudra voir la lumière encore une fois" - it should once again see light.
   
I later learned that she died less than one month after our meeting.  This Hannukah, the menorah will once again see light.  And as I and my family light it, we will say a special prayer in honor of those whose memories it represents.  We will not let its lights go out again.
     

They're Waving at Me

By Robert Crum

Every year, I experience an odd moment shortly after my family and I arrive at the country house we rent in Montana.
     
I drive down a back road, minding my own business, when I gradually realize that people are waving at me.  They wave from their pickups and cars, barely lifting their hands off the steering wheel.  At first the gesture is unsettling.  I wonder if they are trying to tell me my lights are on or a tire is flat.  Or perhaps it is a case of mistaken identity.  I've never seen most of these people, so who do they think they are waving at?
     
Then I remember.  I'm not in the city anymore.  And if anything distinguishes city folk from country folk, it's that in rural areas people make a habit of waving at strangers.
     
Soon I'm waving at everyone too.  I lift my fingers a little from the steering wheel, and the other driver lifts his.  Or I shift my arm outward a bit as it rests on the window frame, raising my palm, and the other driver does likewise.  One needn't be too obvious or exuberant about these things.  A raised index finger speaks volumes, and a simple nod is eloquent in its restraint.
     
When I pass our neighbor, he salutes me with his customary broad, slow wave, which makes him look as though he's cleaning a window.  His wife waggles her fingers to wave hello; I can almost imagine her saying "Tootle-ooo!"  A detective with the sheriff's office waves as though he's firing a six-shooter - with the thumb up and a quick jab of the index finger.  (I'm still waiting for him to blow away the smoke.)
     
People in the country will wave whether they're going sixty miles an hour or ten.  They wave on narrow curves, on the crests of hills or driving into a blinding sun.  Often they wave in town when they should be watching for pedestrians.  In short, they wave at all the times it's most inadvisable to wave.
     
If for some reason I forget to wave back - say I'm fiddling with the radio dial - I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt.  Did the people who just waved know me?  Were they neighbors?  Do they think I'm putting on airs?  I worry that I've violated one of the cardinal principles of the universe, ordained when the first good person waved hospitably to another from his cave.
     
To understand the geographical nature of this custom, try a simple test: Wave from your car at strangers along a city street.  You may be stared at as if you are crazy.  But most likely you will be ignored.  I also suspect that if a city person spent a couple of weeks on country roads, he'd be waving just as much as any dairyman, cowboy, logger, beekeeper - or darn-fool visitor like me.
     
The reason is that, in the country, the human figure stands out against the landscape; it demands recognition.  A wave is simply the easiest way of confirming that recognition.  But I think waving is also a way of recognizing the setting around the human figure.
     
I wave at the farmer passing me in a pickup, and my wave extends to the grasses swaying along the roadside, the line of trees tossing in the wind, the billowing white clouds.  I wave, and my wave goes all the way to the horizon.
     
And so, as long as I'm in the country, I'm a dedicated waver.  Howdy, I wave to the far range of mountains.  Howdy, I wave to the horses trotting in the fields.  Howdy, I wave to the kids and dogs romping in the yard.
     
When I pull into the driveway, my wife waves from the porch.  Then she tries to teach our baby daughter to do the same.  Howdy, I wave to them.  Howdy, I wave.  Howdy!  Howdy!

Make A Difference ... Be Happy

This story is about a beautiful, expensively dressed lady who complained to her psychiatrist that she felt that her whole life was empty, it had no meaning.

So, the lady went to visit a counselor to seek out happiness.

The counselor called over the old lady who cleaned the office floors.

The counselor then said to the rich lady "I'm going to ask Mary here to tell u how she found happiness. All I want u to do is listen to her."

So the old lady put down her broom and sat on a chair and told her story:

"Well, my husband died of malaria and three months later my only son was killed by a car.
I had nobody... I had nothing left. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I never smiled at anyone, I even thought of taking my own life.

Then one evening a little kitten followed me home from work, Somehow I felt sorry for that kitten. It was cold outside, so I decided to let the kitten in. I got it some milk, and the kitten licked the plate clean. Then it purred and rubbed against my leg and, for the first time in months,I smiled.

Then I stopped to think, if helping a little kitten could make me smile, maybe doing something for people could make me happy.So the next day I baked some biscuits and took them to a neighbor who was sick in bed.

Every day I tried to do something nice for someone. It made me so happy to see them happy.

Today, I don't know of anybody who sleeps and eats better than I do. I've found happiness, by giving it to others."

When she heard that the rich lady cried. She had everything that money could buy, but she had lost the things which money cannot buy.

"The beauty of life does not depend on how happy you are; but on how happy others can be because of you..."

Happiness is not a destination, it's a journey.

Happiness is not tomorrow, it is now.

Happiness is not a dependency, it is a decision.

Happiness is what you are, not what you have!

One Finger

by Linda Osmundson

"Mom, you should put some of your things away.  Baby-proof this house," stated our oldest son Mark as he lumbered up the stairs followed by his wife, Kim, and fifteen-month-old Hannah.
     
Visiting for the Thanksgiving holiday, he finished unloading the luggage and took it to the guest room downstairs.  After driving all day from Salt Lake to Ft. Collins, his temper showed.
     
"That one-finger rule may work with the twins, but it'll never work with Hannah," he insisted.
     
When my three granddaughters were born four months apart and the twins moved into our house at eight months, my close friend offered me her secret to entertaining grandchildren with few mishaps.
     
"Teach them the 'one-finger rule.'"  All of her five grandchildren learned it at a young age.  The success of the method surprised me.
     
I picked up my granddaughter and said, "Well, Mark, you just watch."  I hugged her and walked all around the great room.
     
"Hannah, you may touch anything in this room you want.  But, you can only use one finger."
     
I demonstrated the technique by touching my forefinger to the African sculpture on the mantel.  Hannah followed my example.
     
"Good girl.  Now what else would you like to touch?"
     
She stretched her finger toward another object on the mantel.  I allowed her to touch everything in sight - plants, glass objects, TV, VCR, lamps, speakers, candles and artificial flowers.  If she started to grab, I gently reminded her to use one finger.  She always obeyed.
     
But, Hannah, an only child, possessed a more adventurous personality.  Her father predicted it would prevent her from accepting the one-finger rule.
     
During their four-day stay, we aided Hannah in remembering the one-finger rule.  She learned quickly.  I only put away the things that might prove to be a danger to a child.  Otherwise, we watched her closely, and nothing appeared to suffer any damage.  Besides, "things" can be replaced.
     
A few fingerprints on glass doors, windows and tables remained after Hannah and her family returned home.  I couldn't bring myself to clean them for days.  Each one reminded me of some wonderful experience with Hannah.
     
Months later, my husband and I drove to Salt Lake, and I watched Mark and Kim continue to practice the one-finger rule.  But I refrained from saying, "I told you so."  Yet, I smiled inwardly each time they prodded Hannah to touch with "one finger."
     
Mark, a salesman, always gave a packet of gifts to his potential clients.  The night before we returned home, Mark sat on the floor stuffing gifts into their packets.
     
Hannah helped.
     
Then she picked up one gift, held it in her hand as if it were a fragile bird, and walked toward me.  At my knee, her beautiful blue eyes looked into mine.  She stretched her prize to me and said, "One finger, Nana!"

Dog Days of School

By Jean Wensink

Teaching second grade is always a challenge.  Each student arrives at school with his own needs and difficulties.  One particular year a student I'll call Billy challenged me with his behavior as well as his academic requirements.  He struggled daily with his overpowering emotions and often became angry - sometimes even violent.  I knew that in order to make academic progress, his emotional outbursts needed to be controlled.
     
One way I tried to help Billy was to have him come directly into the classroom when he arrived at school, rather than playing on the playground.  Billy liked the extra attention before school, and I could make sure his school day started out on a positive note.  I also found that when Billy came to the classroom early, he avoided the usual playground fights and arguments caused by his volatile temper.
     
Oftentimes Billy's mom would call me to alert me to a particularly emotional morning at home.  On those mornings, I would focus on defusing his anger and calming him down before the other students arrived.  Billy's mother loved him and wanted desperately for him to improve and do well.  As the weeks passed, home communication, firm boundaries, and love and care were helping Billy make big strides in controlling his own behavior, yet he still lapsed now and then.
     
One week our class was studying pets.  I thought one way to bring hands-on learning into the classroom was to bring my dog Rocky to school for the day.  Rocky is a two-year-old shih tzu.  A perky, friendly creature, Rocky loves people - especially children.  He was raised with my own children, so he is used to being petted, played with and snuggled.  I was confident that the class would adore him, and I knew that Rocky would love all the attention from twenty eager, excited seven-year-olds.
     
The morning of Rocky's big day at school began as normal.  Arriving at school early, I prepared activities focused on dog themes.  Our math for the day was to measure Rocky in as many ways as we could think of.  We were going to measure the length of his ears and body, his weight, and even how much water he drank.  The read-aloud story I planned for the day was about a dog.  I was looking forward to a fun day.
     
A few minutes before I expected Billy to arrive, the phone rang.  It was Billy's mom.  She was calling to tell me that he had a rough morning at home and I might need to spend some time getting him settled.  As I was talking to his mom, Billy stormed into the classroom.  To Billy's surprise, Rocky immediately ran up to his new "friend," wagging his tail.  Billy knelt and Rocky licked Billy's face, slathering him with doggy affection.  Billy couldn't resist Rocky's charm.  The little boy began giggling and laughing as his anger melted away.  The happy sound of his laughter traveled through the phone line to his mother's ears.  In a quavering voice she asked me, "Is that Billy?"
     
"Yes," I replied.  "I brought my dog to school today, and Billy and he are getting acquainted."
     
"It sounds like Billy will be just fine," she said, her voice filled with relief.
     
I couldn't have chosen a better day to have Rocky at the door.
     
Throughout the day, Billy showed his caring and loving nature.  He never left Rocky's side and took responsibility for Rocky by feeding him, being gentle with him and even shushing the other students when Rocky took a snooze.
     
Billy was known for doing anything he could to avoid reading.  But on this day he found a good dog story, Clifford's Puppy Days, and read it to Rocky.  Rocky was a good listener and never minded if Billy missed a word.  I marveled at the sight of Billy reading happily.  My little dog was able to transform Billy's day from one of anger and frustration, to one of joy, laughter, gentleness and unconditional love.
     
That day Rocky did more than just help me with teaching; he helped to change the life of a child.  After that Billy's behavior definitely improved.  For, thanks to his mom, Billy soon had a dog friend of his very own at home.

A Thanksgiving Story

By Andréa Nannette Mejia

It was the day before Thanksgiving - the first one my three children and I would be spending without their father, who had left several months before.  Now the two older children were very sick with the flu, and the eldest had just been prescribed bed rest for a week.
     
It was a cool, gray day outside, and a light rain was falling.  I grew wearier as I scurried around, trying to care for each child: thermometers, juice, diapers.  And I was fast running out of liquids for the children.  But when I checked my purse, all I found was about $2.50 - and this was supposed to last me until the end of the month.  That's when I heard the phone ring.
     
It was the secretary from our former church, and she told me that they had been thinking about us and had something to give us from the congregation.  I told her that I was going out to pick up some more juice and soup for the children, and I would drop by the church on my way to the market.
     
I arrived at the church just before lunch.  The church secretary met me at the door and handed me a special gift envelope.  "We think of you and the kids often," she said, "and you are in our hearts and prayers.  We love you."  When I opened the envelope, I found two grocery certificates inside.  Each was worth $20.  I was so touched and moved, I broke down and cried.
     
"Thank you very much," I said, as we hugged each other.  "Please give our love and thanks to the church."  Then I drove to a store near our home and purchased some much-needed items for the children.
     
At the check-out counter I had a little over $14.00 worth of groceries, and I handed the cashier one of the gift certificates.  She took it, then turned her back for what seemed like a very long time.  I thought something might be wrong.  Finally I said, "This gift certificate is a real blessing.  Our former church gave it to our family, knowing I'm a single parent trying to make ends meet."
     
The cashier then turned around, with tears in her loving eyes, and replied, "Honey, that's wonderful!  Do you have a turkey?"
     "No.  It's okay because my children are sick anyway."
     She then asked, "Do you have anything else for Thanksgiving dinner?"
     Again I replied, "No."
     
After handing me the change from the certificate, she looked at my face and said, "Honey, I can't tell you exactly why right now, but I want you to go back into the store and buy a turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie or anything else you need for a Thanksgiving dinner."
     
I was shocked, and humbled to tears.  "Are you sure?" I asked.
     "Yes!  Get whatever you want.  And get some Gatorade for the kids."
     I felt awkward as I went back to do more shopping, but I selected a fresh turkey, a few yams and potatoes, and some juices for the children.  Then I wheeled the shopping cart up to the same cashier as before.  As I placed my groceries on the counter, she looked at me once more with giant tears in her kind eyes and began to speak.
     
"Now I can tell you.  This morning I prayed that I could help someone today, and you walked through my line."  She reached under the counter for her purse and took out a $20 bill.  She paid for my groceries and then handed me the change.  Once more I was moved to tears.
     
The sweet cashier then said, "I am a Christian.  Here is my phone number if you ever need anything."  She then took my head in her hands, kissed my cheek and said, "God bless you, honey."
     
As I walked to my car, I was overwhelmed by this stranger's love and by the realization that God loves my family too, and shows us his love through this stranger's and my church's kind deeds.
     
The children were supposed to have spent Thanksgiving with their father that year, but because of the flu they were home with me, for a very special Thanksgiving Day.  They were feeling better, and we all ate the goodness of the Lord's bounty - and our community's love.  Our hearts were truly filled with thanks.

Mrs. B's Thanksgiving Surprise

By Suzanne L. Helminski

Todd Zimmerman was not altogether happy to be working on Thanksgiving Day.  As one of a skeleton staff of five manning the State of Maryland's EBT Help Desk (the state's alternative to food stamps), the morning seemed to stretch on.  As lunchtime approached, it was hard not to fantasize about the feast his family was preparing, and the laughter and stories that would be told.
     
Before his lunch break, a call came in from an elderly woman who was obviously distressed."I was at the grocery store buying food, but my purchase didn't go through!" she said.  "The clerk said the transaction was denied."

Todd knew the questions to ask, and it wasn't long before he diagnosed the problem: the woman's temporary card had expired.  Apparently she hadn't understood that she needed to obtain a permanent card.
     
"Oh, but . . . but I hadn't collected my $10 from October, either!  I purposefully left it on account to put together with this $10 for a Thanksgiving dinner."
     
"I'm sorry," Todd said sympathetically.  "Do you have any food in the house?"
     
"No . . . not really, I was saving up for today, you see.  My family thought they were going to be able to come, and I wanted to have a nice meal for them.  But something came up, and they can't make it."  There was a catch in her voice.  "I guess it's just as well."
     
After she hung up, Todd couldn't get her off his mind.  He realized that because of the error this woman, whom he knew only as "Mrs. B," would not only be alone, she'd also go hungry on Thanksgiving Day, all for want of $20.  Determinedly, Todd called the grocery store where the woman's transaction had been denied, his own credit card at the ready.
     
Sorry, they said, no phone orders.  And they didn't deliver, and couldn't make an exception today of all days.  They also had a skeleton crew and more customers than they could handle.
     
Lunchtime came.  Todd suddenly didn't care that he was eating cafeteria food.  Two of his coworkers, Kim Twito and I, took lunch with him, and together we vowed to do whatever we could to solve Mrs. B's problem.
     
Back at the help desk, we let our compatriots, Julie Simon and Mark Liessmann, in on the dilemma.  Working together, we felt we could surely staff the phones while finding a Thanksgiving dinner for Mrs. B.
     
Unfortunately, by then, virtually every grocery store in Mrs. B's county was closed or closing.  None would deliver.
     
Exhausting the Yellow Pages, one of our coworkers thought of Chesapeake Beef, a grocery store with which EBT had a high volume of business and a good relationship.
     
Chesapeake Beef was closed for Thanksgiving.
     
"The owners, Stas and Mary Witezak, are very nice people," I said.  "They might know of a local store that's open.  I bet they wouldn't mind if I called them at home, even if it is a holiday."
     
"I'm sorry," said Mary, "I can't think of any open stores.  But you know what?  I have a better idea.  It sounds like Mrs. B lives about 15 miles from here.  We've finished our dinner, but we still have plenty left!  Let us bring Thanksgiving to her.  I'll put the kids to work making a special card while Stas and I get together a meal.  Oh - but please let her know someone is coming.  We're unexpected strangers, and we don't want to frighten her."
     
This was easier asked than accomplished.  E.B.T. didn't have Mrs. B's phone number, which was unlisted.  However, the telephone operator was willing to call Mrs. B and ask her to return a call to Todd at the Helpline.
     
When a confused Mrs. B called back, Todd simply told her that friends were coming with a surprise.
     
Several hours later, Stas Witezak called in.  "Thanks so much for giving our family the opportunity to make a difference in someone's life," he said.  "Mrs. B very much appreciated the food, but what really touched her were the cards the children made.  She nearly cried when she read them.  Her response was to ask if she could hug them - and they happily let her."
     
Mrs. B called back, too.  She thanked everyone involved in her Thanksgiving surprise.
     
When our shift ended, the five of us who had reluctantly come to work that Thanksgiving bade each other farewell with a smile.  Though we didn't say it, we were all recalling Mrs. B's words: "I've always been a Christian - but now I know for sure there is a God!"

"Happy Thanksgiving!" said Todd as we parted ways.  And in fact, it had been the happiest Thanksgiving of all.