Inspiration

just good stuff

The Gift of the God.
It was a warm summer day when the gods placed it in her hands. She trembled with emotion as she saw how fragile it appeared. This was a very special gift the gods were entrusting to her. A gift that would one day belong to the world. Until then, they instructed her, she was to be its guardian and protector. The woman said she understood and reverently took it home, determined to live up to the faith the gods had placed in her.
At first she barely let it out of her sight, protecting it from anything she perceived to be harmful to its well-being; watching with fear in her heart when it was exposed to the environment outside of the sheltered cocoon she had formed around it. But the woman began to realize that she could not shelter it forever. It needed to learn to survive the harsh elements in order to grow strong. So with gentle care she gave it more space to grow...enough to allow it to grow wild and untamed.
One day she became aware of how much the gift had changed. It no longer had a look of vulnerability about it. Now it seemed to glow with strength and steadiness, almost as if it were developing a power within. Month after month she watched as it became stronger and more powerful, and the woman remembered her promise. She knew deep within her heart that her time with the gift was nearing an end.
The inevitable day arrived when the gods came to take the gift and present it to the world. The woman felt a deep sadness, for she would miss its constant presence in her life. With heartfelt gratitude she thanked the gods for allowing her the privilege of watching over the precious gift for so many years. Straightening her shoulders, she stood proud, knowing that it was, indeed, a very special gift. One that would add to the beauty and essence of the world around it. And the mother let her child go.

When You Thought I Wasn't Looking
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat,
and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me,
and I knew that little things are special things.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I heard you say a prayer,
and I believed there is a God I could always talk to.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I felt you kiss me good night, and I felt loved.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes,
and I learned that sometimes things hurt,
but it's all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked ... and wanted to say thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking.

A group of frogs were traveling through thewoods. Two of them fell into a deep pit. All the other frogs gathered around the pit. When they saw how deep the pit was they told the two frogs that they were as good as dead. The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump up out of the pit with all of their might.
The other frogs kept telling them to stop, saying that they were as good as dead. Finally, one of the frogs took heed of what the other frogs were saying and gave up. He fell down and died. The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the crowd of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and just die.
He jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out,the other frogs said, "Did not you hear us?" The frog explained to them that he was deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time.
This story teaches two lessons: There is power of life and death in the tongue. An encouraging word to someone who is down can lift them up and help them make it through difficult times. A destructive word to someone who is down, can be what it takes to kill them. Be careful with what you say. Speak life to those who cross your path. Words are so powerful, its sometimes hard to understand that an encouraging word can go such a long way. Keep this in mind, and always be careful and think about what you have to say.

A young boy was walking along a road one day when he spotted a copper penny shining in the dust. He picked it up and clutched it with excitement. A penny was his, and it had cost him nothing! From that day on, wherever he walked, he kept his head down, his eyes closely surveying the ground for more pennies - and perhaps even greater treasure. During his lifetime, he found more money to be sure.
In fact, he collected 302 pennies, 24 nickels, 41 dimes, eight quarters, three half-dollar pieces and one worn-out paper dollar... a total of $12.82. He kept his treasure safe, protecting it as a "free legacy" of wealth. He delighted in the fact that the money had cost him nothing.
Or had it? In the course of scouting out his treasure, he had missed seeing the full beauty of 35,127 sunsets, the splendor of 327 rainbows, the beauty of white clouds floating overhead in crystal blue skies, bird soaring, squirrels hopping from branch to branch in the trees above the paths on which he walked, the brilliance of autumn leaves fluttering against a backdrop of autumn sunshine.
What he had acquired - all $12.82 - certainly wasn't equal to what he had missed. Of course unlike the little boy, we are not so preoccupied with gains that are petty as such. We go for bigger things - ambitions, aspirations, dreams that are pursued on end. But have we ever paused in the tedium of life, have we ever taken a rest to enjoy living instead of trying to get a living, of trying to struggle through each and every day.
When was the last time you admired the beauty of the night sky, the bright shimmer of the shining stars? When was the last time you were caressed by the gentle winds, strolling in unison with the rustling leaves? When was the last time you followed the trail of a bird across the vastness of the blue sky until it disappears into the cover of white clouds? Or to trail the flight of an aeroplane when ever you happen to catch one from the corner of your eye. It's a plentiful in a country like Singapore, but have you ever lift up your head.
In our attempt to live each day with meaning, we ever so often pin our hopes on the future, on what is going to come, that we forgot about the present, of this gift of life, of being here now, breathing this minute, this second.
Stop what you are doing now and ask yourself what you are working for? You may be facing certain trials now, be it regarding the never ending pile of work load, relationships, health, finance... after all, man's troubles are never over, so why not take some time off now to observe your surroundings, to admire the beauty of the work of Mother Nature, of the intricacies of the work of God.
Do take an occasional break, and keep ur heart silent... "The earth has music for those who listen..."

Heaven and Hell: The Real Difference
A man spoke with the Lord about heaven and hell. The Lord said to the man, "Come, I will show you hell." They entered a room where a group of people sat around a huge pot of stew. Everyone was famished, desperate and starving. Each held a spoon that reached the pot, but each spoon had a handle so much longer than their own arm that it could not be used to get the stew into their own mouths. The suffering was terrible.
"Come, now I will show you heaven," the Lord said after a while. They entered another room, identical to the first - the pot of stew, the group of people, the same long-handled spoons. But there everyone was happy and well-nourished.
"I don't understand," said the man. "Why are they happy here when they were miserable in the other room and everything was the same?"
The Lord smiled, "Ah, it is simple," he said. "here they have learned to feed each other."

The Rose
Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly.
He placed himself as close as he could to the information booth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks...
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one night in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of Zeros. He had seen the grinning face of one of the enemy pilots.
In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer: "Of course you fear...all brave men do. Didn't King David know fear? That's why he wrote the 23rd Psalm. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'" And he had remembered; he had heard her imagined voice, and it had renewed his strength and skill.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six. His face grew sharp.
Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast, like threads of color being woven into a gray web. A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a red flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was too young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told him she was 30. "Well, what of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32." He was 29.
His mind went back to that book - the book the Lord Himself must have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army library books sent to the Florida training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. He had always hated that writing-in-habit, but these remarks were different. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.
For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more than replied. When his letters did not arrive she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.
But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. That seemed rather bad, of course. But she had explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely). Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that - whichever we choose..."
One minute to six - he pulled hard on a cigarette. Then Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped higher than his plane had ever done.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.
He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured.
Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose in the rumpled lapel of her brown coat.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly twinkle.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the small worn, blue leather copy of Of Human Bondage, which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even rarer than love - a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful.
He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt shocked by the bitterness of his disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blandford, and you - you are Miss Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May...may I take you to dinner?"
The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit - the one who just went by - begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test. I've got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn't mind to oblige you."

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