A Sad Story
Jenny was so happy about the house they had found.
For once in her life 'twas on the right side of town.
She unpacked her things with such great ease.
As she watched her new curtains blow in the breeze.
How wonderful it was to have her own room.
School would be starting, she'd have friends over soon.
There'd be sleep-overs, and parties; she was so happy
t's just the way she wanted her life to be.
On the first day of school, everything went great.
he made new friends and even got a date!
She thought, "I want to be popular and I'm going to be,
Because I just got a date with the star of the team!"
To be known in this school you had to have a clout,
And dating this guy would sure help her out.
There was only one problem stopping her fate.
Her parents had said she was too young to date.
"Well, I just won't tell them the entire truth.
They won't know the difference; what's there to lose?"
Jenny asked to stay with her friends that night.
Her parents frowned but said, "All right."
Excited, she got ready for the big event
But as she rushed around like she had no sense,
She began to feel guilty about all the lies,
But what's a pizza, a party, and a moonlight ride?
Well the pizza was good, and the party was great,
But the moonlight ride would have to wait.
For Jeff was half drunk by this time.
But he kissed her and said that he was just fine.
Then the room filled with smoke and Jeff took a puff.
Jenny couldn't believe he was smoking that stuff.
Now Jeff was ready to ride to the point
But only after he'd smoked another joint.
They jumped in the car for the moonlight ride,
Not thinking that he was too drunk to drive.
They finally made it to the point at last,
And Jeff started trying to make a pass.
A pass is not what Jenny wanted at all
(and by a pass, I dont mean playing football).
"Perhaps my parents were right....maybe I am too young.
Boy, how could I ever, ever be so dumb."
With all of her might, she pushed Jeff away:
"Please take me home, I dont want to stay."
Jeff cranked up the engine and floored the gas.
In a matter of seconds they were going too fast.
As Jeff drove on in a fit of wild anger,
Jenny knew that her life was in danger.
She begged and pleaded for him to slow down,
But he just got faster as they neared the town.
"Just let me get home! I'll confess that I lied.
I really went out for a moonlight ride."
Then all of a sudden, she saw a big flash.
"Oh God, Please help us! We're going to crash!"
She doesn't remember the force of impact.
Just that everything all of a sudden went black.
She felt someone remove her from the twisted rubble,
And heard, "Call an ambulance! These kids are in trouble!"
Voices she heard...a few words at best.
But she knew there were two cars involved in the wreck.
Then wondered to herself if Jeff was all right,
And if the people in the other car were alive.
She awoke in the hospital to faces so sad.
"You've been in a wreck and it looks pretty bad."
These voices echoed inside her head,
As they gently told her that Jeff was dead.
They said "Jenny, we've done all we can do.
But it looks as if we'll lose you too."
"But the people in the other car!?" Jenny cried.
"We're sorry, Jenny, they also died."
Jenny prayed, "God, forgive me for what I've do
ne
I only wanted to have just one night of fun."
"Tell those people's family, I've made their lives dim,
And wish I could return their families to them."
"Tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry I lied,
And that it's my fault so many have died.
Oh, nurse, won't you please tell them that for me?"
The nurse just stood there ~ she never agreed.
But took Jenny's hand with tears in her eyes
And a few moments later Jenny died.
A man asked the nurse, "Why didn't you do your best
To bid that girl her one last request?"
She looked at the man with eyes oh so sad.
"Because the people in the other car were her mom and dad."
This story is sad and unpleasant but true,
So young people take heed, it could have been you.
My New Best Friend retold by Kimberly Kirberger
Today I met a great new friend
Who knew me right away
It was funny how she understood
All I had to say
She listened to my problems
She listened to my dreams
We talked about love and life
She's been there, too, it seems
I never once felt judged by her
She knew just how I felt
She seemed to accept me
And all the problems I'd been dealt
She didn't interrupt me
Or need to have her say
She just listened very penitently
And didn't go away
I wanted her to understand
How much this meant to me
But as I went to hug her
Something startled me
I put my arms in front of me
As I went to pull her nearer
And realized that my new best friend
Was nothing but a mirror
Enjoy yourself. These are the good old days you're going to miss in the years ahead.
The Bible author unknown
A young man from a wealthy family was about to graduate from high school. It was the custom in that affluent neighborhood for the parents to give the graduate an automobile. Bill and his father had spent months looking at cars, and the week before graduation they found the perfect car. Bill was certain that the car would be his on graduation night.
Imagine his disappointment when, on the eve of his graduation, Bill's father handed him a gift-wrapped bible! Bill was so angry, he threw the bible down and stormed out of the house. He and his father never saw each other again. It was the news of his father's death that brought Bill home again.
As he sat one night, going through his father's possessions the he was to inherit, he came across the bible his father had given him. He brushed away the dust and opened it to find a cashier's check, dated that day of his graduation, in the exact amount of the car they had chosen.
 
If you judge people, you have no time to love them.
 
Somebody Should Have Taught Him
I went to a birthday party
but I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink at all,
so I had Sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself,
the way you said I would,
that I didn't choose to drink and drive,
though some friends said I should.
I knew I made a healthy choice and
your advice to me was right
as the party finally ended
and the kids drove out of sight.
I got into my own car,
sure to get home in one piece,
never knowing what was coming,
something I expected least.
Now I'm lying on the pavement.
I can hear the policeman say,
"The kid that caused this wreck was drunk."
His voice seems far away.
My own blood is all around me,
as I try hard not to cry.
I can heat the paramedic say,
"This girl is going to die."
I'm sure the guy had no idea,
while he was flying high,
because he chose to drink and drive
that I would have to die.
So why do people do it,
knowing that it ruins lives?
But now the pain is cutting me
like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell my sister not to be afraid,
tell Daddy to be brave,
and when I go t heaven to
put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have taught him
that it's wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe his mom and dad had,
I'd still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter,
I'm getting really scared.
These are my final moments,
and I'm so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me, Mom,
as I lie here and dies.
I wish that I could say
I love you and good-bye.
A STORY TO LIVE BY

by Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)

=================

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said,"is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion." He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion." I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special. I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck 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 in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not 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,the first camellia blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends. "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 my sister would've done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food.I'm guessing - I'll never know. It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with - someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write - "one of these days." Angry and sorry that I didn't ell my husband and daughter 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, I tell myself that it is special.Every day, every minute, every breath truly is... a gift from God. If you've received this it is because someone cares for you. If you're too busy to take the few minutes that it would take right now to forward this to ten people, would it be the first time you didn't do that 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 few people you care about, just to let them know that you're thinking of them. Let love litter your life with blessings! "You've got to work like you don't need money, love like you have never been hurt and dance like nobody's watching." Live every moment the fullest and enjoy the simple, finer aspects of friendship and life. Keep a passion for life. Do you do that NOW? 

One Last Wish by: Christi Galloway

Chris Hart was not your average 16 year old. He was six-feet-eight inches tall and weighed 260 pounds. In his freshman year of high school he played on the varsity football team; he could bench press 250 pounds and squat 450. Then he was diagnosed with osteogenic sarcoma, a form of cancer. For a while it was in remission, then during his junior year it returned. A couple months before Christmas in 1993, he was told by doctors that he probably did not have long to live.
That same year a local radio station sponsored a contest granting requests to people who wrote in with the best Christmas wishes. A member of our church wrote a letter to the radio station on Chris's behalf. Little did I know that when his letter was chosen, my whole life would change, too.
Chris's first wish was to have a stereo system for his truck. A local electronics firm obliged. His second wish was to see a Dallas Cowboys football game. That was his favorite team and he was their greatest fan. To his surprise, he not only got to see the Cowboys play, he actually met some of them in the locker room. Chris's third wish was more difficult to coordinate because of its sensitive nature. He wanted to date a redhead.
At this point I should explain that I am a redhead.
My dad came home from church one night and told me about Chris and his three wishes, especially his third wish.
"Dad, I don't even know the guy." I said.
How could I go on a date with him? I didn't go to his school. I had never met him. My dad, who is a minister, had visited Chris several times and all he could say about him was that he was very nice, very tall and "big-boned." With some hesitation I said yes.
The date was scheduled for the week before Christmas. Before then Chris and I had only talked on the phone. He seemed sweet, but I was nervous about going out on a date, so I asked one of my best friends to join us. When Chris came to pick me up I was a little shocked by how he looked. He was huge, and bald from his chemotherapy treatments. He wore a hat, but took it off inside to be polite, exposing his hairless head. When we went to a local pizza restaurant, he had to duck to get through the door, and everybody stared at us.
After that he started to come to my house after school and we talked about our problems or watched movies. He told me how much he missed playing football, and sometimes we listened to music.
On Valentine's Day, a friend and I cooked a special dinner for Chris and her boyfriend, and we exchanged presents. Chris seemed pleased with the teddy bear and the new CD. He even asked me to go to his junior-senior prom.
Then I did something I'm still ashamed of. It started when the town newspaper did an article about Chris's three wishes. It was accompanied by a picture of us in front of his truck. The caption said we dated. When kids from school saw the article and picture, the made comments. I tried to ignore them, but then one day, one of the popular seniors said to me, "Hey, I guess that guy could find anybody else better to date."
It really hurt. I was only a sophomore and still felt new to the town. I wanted people to like me. I didn't want them to think I was weird.
When Chris called, I said I was busy and couldn't talk. I made excuses, so he stopped coming over and we stopped going out. At night I cried myself to sleep because I knew I was being cruel, but I couldn't help it. Chris's prom was coming up and I knew I had to talked to him. Mom's friend had made a special dress for me made I had promised to go. So I called Chris and we made plans to go out to dinner with friends before the prom.
That night when he came to pick me up, we didn't talk much at first. He looked good in his tuxedo and sneakers (he couldn't find any black shoes big enough to fit). He had also lost a lot of weight. His class ring was so loose it kept falling off.
We joined our friends for dinner and started to laugh and joke about old times. On the way to the dance, Chris started to feel bad. We waited in the parking lot until he regained his strength.
The auditorium was beautifully decorated with an Egyptian theme. Everybody else was dancing and having a great time, but Chris still felt weak, so he could only sit and watch. While we were talking, the DJ interrupted the music and one of the football players took the microphone. He talked about Chris and how special he was. They dedicated the prom to Chris and gave him a plaque. It was one of his proudest moments.
After the prom I didn't care what people at my school thought. They could say whatever they wanted. Chris was my friend. I just hoped he could forgive me for the way I treated him. That spring he became much worse and the doctors gave him two weeks to live. Every day for those two weeks I visited him. He had a huge bed set up in his bedroom with a lot of pillows, and together we watched TV and talked.
He wasn't afraid to talk about dying, I found it painful, but my dad said that just by listening to Chris, I was helping him.
Each day it got harder for Chris to concentrate. By the last few days he could barely recognize anybody. Saturday afternoon was the last time I got to visit Chris. As I was leaving, he called me back and asked for a hug. As I hugged him, he whispered, "I love you."
It was the first time he had said those words to me. He really had forgiven me.
Sunday morning I went straight home after church. My parents had suggested I join them at a restaurant for lunch, but I felt there was some reason I shouldn't. Only moments after I got home a phone call came from Chris's dad; Chris was dying. I called the restaurant where my parents were eating and they rushed home and took me to Chris's.
Family and friends were gathered around Chris's bed. He was breathing with great gasps, very slowly. I stood there but could say nothing. Words couldn't come.
"Christi's here," my dad said softly. "We're all here and we love you." How could I say good-bye?
"Dear God," my dad prayed, "please be with Chris and all of those present and his family. Give us a sense of peace as you receive Chris into your loving arms."
I looked up to see Chris take his last breath. He was gone.
That was two years ago and I still miss him.
 
Courage in Action by Bill Sanders A couple of years ago, I witnessed courage that ran chills up and down my spine.
At a high school assembly, I had spoken about picking on people and how each of us has the ability to stand up for people instead of putting them down. Afterwards, we had a time when anyone could come out of the bleachers and speak into the microphone. Students could say thank you to someone who had helped them, and some people came up and did just that. A girl thanked some friends who had helped her through family troubles. A boy spoke of some people who had supported him during an emotionally difficult time.
Then a senior girl stood up. She stepped over to the microphone, pointed to the sophomore section and challenged her whole school. "Let's stop picking on that boy. Sure, he is different from us, but we are in this thing together. On the inside he's no different from us and needs our acceptance, love, compassion, and approval. He needs a friend. Why do we continually brutalize him and put him down? I'm challenging this entire school to lighten up on him and give him a chance!"
All the time she shared, I had my back to the section where that boy sat, and I had no idea who he was. But obviously the school knew. I felt almost afraid to look at his section, thinking the boy must be red in the face, wanting to crawl under his seat and hide from the world. But as I glanced back, I saw a boy smiling ear to ear. His whole body bounced up and down, and he raised one fist in the air. His body language said, "Thank you, thank you. Keep telling them. You saved my life today!"
Total Eclipse of the Heart


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