Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend by the name of Common Sense.
No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were lost long ago amidst bureaucratic red tape.
But he will be remembered as having cultivated such valued lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, and that life isn't always fair.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place.
Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, teens suspended from school for a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student only worsened his condition!
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realise that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, spilled it in her lap and was awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two step-brothers, My Rights and I'm Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because few realised he was gone.
Sent to Starmag by Jackie Low
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Friday, August 19, 2011
Right Place, Right Time
Soon after Sept 11, one company invited the remaining members of other firms which had been decimated by the attack on the Twin Towers in New York to share its office space.
At a morning meeting, the head of security told stories of why some of those present were alive. All the stories were about the "little" things.
Well, the head of the company survived that day because his son had started kindergarten. Another fellow was alive because it was his turn to bring doughnuts to work.
One woman was late because her alarm click didn't go off. Another had been stuck at a turnpike because of an accident.
One of them missed his bus. One spilled food on her clothes and had to take time to change. One's car couldn't start. One went back to answer the telephone. One had a child who dawdled and didn't get ready as fast as he should have. One couldn't get a taxi.
The most striking story was that of the man who had put on a new pair of shoes that morning before setting off for his office. But before he got there, he developed a blister on his foot and stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid. And he lived to tell about it.
Nowadays, whenever I am stuck in traffic, or miss the bus, or have to turn back to answer a ringing telephone - you know, all the little things that used to annoy me - I tell myself this is exactly where God wants me to be at that very moment.
When your morning seems to be going wrong, when the children are slow getting dressed, when you can't seem to find the car keys, or when every traffic light along your route is red, don't get mad or frustrated. Remember - someone is watching over you.
Sent in to Starmag by K.K. Tan
At a morning meeting, the head of security told stories of why some of those present were alive. All the stories were about the "little" things.
Well, the head of the company survived that day because his son had started kindergarten. Another fellow was alive because it was his turn to bring doughnuts to work.
One woman was late because her alarm click didn't go off. Another had been stuck at a turnpike because of an accident.
One of them missed his bus. One spilled food on her clothes and had to take time to change. One's car couldn't start. One went back to answer the telephone. One had a child who dawdled and didn't get ready as fast as he should have. One couldn't get a taxi.
The most striking story was that of the man who had put on a new pair of shoes that morning before setting off for his office. But before he got there, he developed a blister on his foot and stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid. And he lived to tell about it.
Nowadays, whenever I am stuck in traffic, or miss the bus, or have to turn back to answer a ringing telephone - you know, all the little things that used to annoy me - I tell myself this is exactly where God wants me to be at that very moment.
When your morning seems to be going wrong, when the children are slow getting dressed, when you can't seem to find the car keys, or when every traffic light along your route is red, don't get mad or frustrated. Remember - someone is watching over you.
Sent in to Starmag by K.K. Tan
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Pebbles
Many years ago, in a small Indian village, a farmer had the misfortune of owing a large sum of money to an old and mean moneylender, who fancied his beautiful daughter.
So, when the farmer could not repay his debt, the moneylender proposed a deal: he would write off what the poor man owed him if he could marry his daughter.
Both the farmer and his daughter were horrified by the proposal and said "No". But the cunning moneylender suggested that they let providence settle the issue.
He told them he would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty money bag. If the girl picked the black pebble, she had to become his wife and her father's debt would be written off.
If she picked the white pebble, she need not marry him, and her father's debt would still be cleared. But if she refused to pick a pebble, her father would be thrown into jail.
When the next day dawned, all the villagers gathered on a pebble-strewn path in the farmer's field to see what would happen. As they waited, the moneylender bent to pick up two pebbles.
The farmer's sharp-eyed daughter noticed that he had selected two black pebbles and put them into the bag. He then held the bag out to her.
Now, imagine you were the girl standing in the field, with all eyes on you. What would you do?
Refuse to pick a pebble? Empty out the bag and expose the moneylender as a cheat? Dip your hand into the bag and save your father from debt and imprisonment?
Well, this is what she did ...
The girl put her hand into the moneybag and drew out a pebble. Without even looking at it, she fumbled and let it fall onto the pebble-strewn path, where it immediately became lost among all the other pebbles.
"Oh, how clumsy of me!" she exclaimed. "But, never mind. If you look into the bag for the remaining pebble, you will be able to tell which one I had picked."
As the moneylender dared not reveal his dirty trick, he had to declare that the girl had picked the white pebble. Thus her father's debt was cleared and she saved herself from being bound to the dishonest moneylender.
Sent to Starmag by Pola Singh
So, when the farmer could not repay his debt, the moneylender proposed a deal: he would write off what the poor man owed him if he could marry his daughter.
Both the farmer and his daughter were horrified by the proposal and said "No". But the cunning moneylender suggested that they let providence settle the issue.
He told them he would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty money bag. If the girl picked the black pebble, she had to become his wife and her father's debt would be written off.
If she picked the white pebble, she need not marry him, and her father's debt would still be cleared. But if she refused to pick a pebble, her father would be thrown into jail.
When the next day dawned, all the villagers gathered on a pebble-strewn path in the farmer's field to see what would happen. As they waited, the moneylender bent to pick up two pebbles.
The farmer's sharp-eyed daughter noticed that he had selected two black pebbles and put them into the bag. He then held the bag out to her.
Now, imagine you were the girl standing in the field, with all eyes on you. What would you do?
Refuse to pick a pebble? Empty out the bag and expose the moneylender as a cheat? Dip your hand into the bag and save your father from debt and imprisonment?
Well, this is what she did ...
The girl put her hand into the moneybag and drew out a pebble. Without even looking at it, she fumbled and let it fall onto the pebble-strewn path, where it immediately became lost among all the other pebbles.
"Oh, how clumsy of me!" she exclaimed. "But, never mind. If you look into the bag for the remaining pebble, you will be able to tell which one I had picked."
As the moneylender dared not reveal his dirty trick, he had to declare that the girl had picked the white pebble. Thus her father's debt was cleared and she saved herself from being bound to the dishonest moneylender.
Sent to Starmag by Pola Singh
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Drops of Succour
It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not had a drop of rain in almost a month. The crops were dying and the cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams had long dried up.
Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this had involved taking a truck to the local water plant, filling it up and driving it back to our farm. But severe rationing had cut off supply. If we didn't get some rain soon, we'd lose our crops and everything else.
It was on this day that I witnessed a miracle and learned the true lesson of sharing.
I was in the kitchen preparing lunch for the guys when I saw my six-year-old, Billy, walking towards the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a kid. I could only see his back, but he was intent on something, and trying to be as careful as possible.
Minutes after disappearing into the woods, he came running out, towards the house. I went back to making the sandwiches, thinking that whatever he had been doing was done. Several minutes later, however, he was walking purposefully towards the woods again. This went on for about an hour - walk slowly to the woods, run back to the house, walk again ...
Finally, my curiosity get the better of me. I crept out of the house and tailed him, taking care not to be seen as he was obviously doing important work and didn't need his mummy checking on him.
I sneaked up close and saw that Billy had cupped his hands in front of him, so as not to spill some water he held in them. There were perhaps two or three tablespoons of water in those chubby hands. Branches and thorns slapped his little face, but he did not try to avoid them. He had other things on his mind.
As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing sight. Several large deer loomed in front of him ... and Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamer at him to get a way. A huge buck with elaborate antlers looked dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him; he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And then I saw a tiny fawn on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hands.
When the water was gone, Billy jumped up. I ducked behind a tree, then followed him back to the house, to a spigot which we had used to shut off the water supply. Billy opened it all the way up and a drop trickled out. He knelt there, waiting for the drops to fill up his "cup" as the sun beat down on his back. Then I remembered the trouble he had gotten into for playing with those hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn't ask me to help him.
It was almost 20 minutes before he stood up to make the trek back into the woods, once again. As he turned, I was there in front of him. Billy's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not wasting," was all he said.
As he began his walk, I joined him, with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend the fawn. It was his job. I stood on the edge of the woods and watched as the most beautiful heart I'd ever known worked hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face his the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops ... and more drops ... and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was weeping with pride.
Some would probably say that this was all just a coincidence. That miracles don't really exist. That it was bound to rain some time. I can't argue with that; I won't try to. All I can say is the rain that came that day saved our farm, just like the actions of one little boy saved another creature's life.
Sent to Starmag by Cindy Han
Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this had involved taking a truck to the local water plant, filling it up and driving it back to our farm. But severe rationing had cut off supply. If we didn't get some rain soon, we'd lose our crops and everything else.
It was on this day that I witnessed a miracle and learned the true lesson of sharing.
I was in the kitchen preparing lunch for the guys when I saw my six-year-old, Billy, walking towards the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a kid. I could only see his back, but he was intent on something, and trying to be as careful as possible.
Minutes after disappearing into the woods, he came running out, towards the house. I went back to making the sandwiches, thinking that whatever he had been doing was done. Several minutes later, however, he was walking purposefully towards the woods again. This went on for about an hour - walk slowly to the woods, run back to the house, walk again ...
Finally, my curiosity get the better of me. I crept out of the house and tailed him, taking care not to be seen as he was obviously doing important work and didn't need his mummy checking on him.
I sneaked up close and saw that Billy had cupped his hands in front of him, so as not to spill some water he held in them. There were perhaps two or three tablespoons of water in those chubby hands. Branches and thorns slapped his little face, but he did not try to avoid them. He had other things on his mind.
As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing sight. Several large deer loomed in front of him ... and Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamer at him to get a way. A huge buck with elaborate antlers looked dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him; he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And then I saw a tiny fawn on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hands.
When the water was gone, Billy jumped up. I ducked behind a tree, then followed him back to the house, to a spigot which we had used to shut off the water supply. Billy opened it all the way up and a drop trickled out. He knelt there, waiting for the drops to fill up his "cup" as the sun beat down on his back. Then I remembered the trouble he had gotten into for playing with those hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn't ask me to help him.
It was almost 20 minutes before he stood up to make the trek back into the woods, once again. As he turned, I was there in front of him. Billy's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not wasting," was all he said.
As he began his walk, I joined him, with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend the fawn. It was his job. I stood on the edge of the woods and watched as the most beautiful heart I'd ever known worked hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face his the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops ... and more drops ... and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was weeping with pride.
Some would probably say that this was all just a coincidence. That miracles don't really exist. That it was bound to rain some time. I can't argue with that; I won't try to. All I can say is the rain that came that day saved our farm, just like the actions of one little boy saved another creature's life.
Sent to Starmag by Cindy Han
What Goes Around
By M. Nantha
"Are we there yet?" It was the mother of all annoying questions. If this was what was meant by retribution, Marge regretted ever having kids.
She silently counted to 10 and willed herself not to lose her cool with five-year-old Penny, who was seated in the back of the minivan and had obviously become restless. They were on their way to an old folks' home, a cosy, quiet little rest house about an hour's drive out of town.
The last thing Marge had wanted to do was pack her mother off to some home, but things had gone from bad to worse. For the last three years, she had struggled against all odds to keep her mother with her family in their double-storey suburban bungalow. But with Alzheimer's disease, it wasn't easy.
Harriet was 76. She wet her bed every time her diaper overflowed. She would call out for someone to attend to her whenever that happened, never mind that it was 4am. Then, unable to go back to sleep, she'd stay awake and expect someone to keep her company.
No one was in the mood for a little tete-a-tete at that ungodly hour. What was most exasperating was that Harriet would nod off just as it was time to start the day, and Marge would drag herself to work, like a zombie.
She had had to take time off from the office to attend to Harriet, like taking her for regular hospital check-ups, giving her medication, and making sure she ate the right foods.
Marge had seen no less than four maids come and go over the last couple of years; all of them left because caring for a grumpy, demanding, bed-ridden old woman was not in their job description.
She had put her own family life on hold because of this. Jason wanted to plan for a second child, but she kept putting it off. How could she manage a newborn in the house when her own mother was the way she was?
It had come to a point where Marge knew she had to either exercise her last option, or risk losing her sanity. The guilt trip was tremendous. What was it about history repeating itself?
Yet, for her own sake, she had had to make the heartbreaking decision, which she tried to convince herself was for the best, as Harriet would get the attention and care at the home which she couldn't give.
"It is for the best, sweetheart," Jason reassured her the night before Harriet's departure, as if reading her minds. She kept repeating that to herself in the car during the journey.
Thirty years on, Penny still had not forgiven her mother for what she had done to nana. Harriet had been there from day one for Penny and the two of them had formed a bond tighter than a Boy Scout's reef knot.
Harriet had meant the world to Penny; even as an adult, Penny could remember crying her eyes out as a little girl when she realised what had happened to nana. When Marge told her nana wasn't going to live with them anymore, she had not spoken to her mother for days. Such was the bitterness she felt.
While other kids talked about how great their grandma's pot pies tasted, or how granny had knitted a cool new sweater for them, Penny could only listen and miss her own nana even more.
She vowed never to deprived her own children of a loving grandma, the way she felt she had been cheated of one.
"These are people, for goodness sake," she told herself. "You don't just chuck people out like old furniture."
Her twins, Katy and Shawna, arrived just after Penny had received a huge promotion. Marge was, of course, on hand to care for the bundles of joy. The girls were left in Marge's care as both Penny and her husband continued with their ultra-busy jobs.
Penny could not thank her mother enough for the support she rendered. Shortly after that, however, Marge was diagnosed with cancer, and was forced to move in with them.
The chemo soon took its toll on everyone. Marge needed daily injections and she only trusted Penny to administer them for her. She refused a nursemaid, even though her daughter offered to get her one. Penny was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
Two years later, she found herself behind the wheel of her car, on an hour-long journey heading out of town. Her girls were horsing around in the back; fidgety because the scenery had not changed for the past 20 minutes.
She let out a sigh and counted to 10 when, for the fifth time in half-and-hour, they asked: "Are we there yet?"
From Starmag
"Are we there yet?" It was the mother of all annoying questions. If this was what was meant by retribution, Marge regretted ever having kids.
She silently counted to 10 and willed herself not to lose her cool with five-year-old Penny, who was seated in the back of the minivan and had obviously become restless. They were on their way to an old folks' home, a cosy, quiet little rest house about an hour's drive out of town.
The last thing Marge had wanted to do was pack her mother off to some home, but things had gone from bad to worse. For the last three years, she had struggled against all odds to keep her mother with her family in their double-storey suburban bungalow. But with Alzheimer's disease, it wasn't easy.
Harriet was 76. She wet her bed every time her diaper overflowed. She would call out for someone to attend to her whenever that happened, never mind that it was 4am. Then, unable to go back to sleep, she'd stay awake and expect someone to keep her company.
No one was in the mood for a little tete-a-tete at that ungodly hour. What was most exasperating was that Harriet would nod off just as it was time to start the day, and Marge would drag herself to work, like a zombie.
She had had to take time off from the office to attend to Harriet, like taking her for regular hospital check-ups, giving her medication, and making sure she ate the right foods.
Marge had seen no less than four maids come and go over the last couple of years; all of them left because caring for a grumpy, demanding, bed-ridden old woman was not in their job description.
She had put her own family life on hold because of this. Jason wanted to plan for a second child, but she kept putting it off. How could she manage a newborn in the house when her own mother was the way she was?
It had come to a point where Marge knew she had to either exercise her last option, or risk losing her sanity. The guilt trip was tremendous. What was it about history repeating itself?
Yet, for her own sake, she had had to make the heartbreaking decision, which she tried to convince herself was for the best, as Harriet would get the attention and care at the home which she couldn't give.
"It is for the best, sweetheart," Jason reassured her the night before Harriet's departure, as if reading her minds. She kept repeating that to herself in the car during the journey.
Thirty years on, Penny still had not forgiven her mother for what she had done to nana. Harriet had been there from day one for Penny and the two of them had formed a bond tighter than a Boy Scout's reef knot.
Harriet had meant the world to Penny; even as an adult, Penny could remember crying her eyes out as a little girl when she realised what had happened to nana. When Marge told her nana wasn't going to live with them anymore, she had not spoken to her mother for days. Such was the bitterness she felt.
While other kids talked about how great their grandma's pot pies tasted, or how granny had knitted a cool new sweater for them, Penny could only listen and miss her own nana even more.
She vowed never to deprived her own children of a loving grandma, the way she felt she had been cheated of one.
"These are people, for goodness sake," she told herself. "You don't just chuck people out like old furniture."
Her twins, Katy and Shawna, arrived just after Penny had received a huge promotion. Marge was, of course, on hand to care for the bundles of joy. The girls were left in Marge's care as both Penny and her husband continued with their ultra-busy jobs.
Penny could not thank her mother enough for the support she rendered. Shortly after that, however, Marge was diagnosed with cancer, and was forced to move in with them.
The chemo soon took its toll on everyone. Marge needed daily injections and she only trusted Penny to administer them for her. She refused a nursemaid, even though her daughter offered to get her one. Penny was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
Two years later, she found herself behind the wheel of her car, on an hour-long journey heading out of town. Her girls were horsing around in the back; fidgety because the scenery had not changed for the past 20 minutes.
She let out a sigh and counted to 10 when, for the fifth time in half-and-hour, they asked: "Are we there yet?"
From Starmag
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Balance of Love
A woman dies after living a long, dignified life. When she meets God, she asks him something that has long bothered her: "If Man is created in God's image, and if all men are created equal, why do people treat each other so badly?"
God replied that each person who enters our life has a unique lesson to teach us. And it is only through these lessons that we learn about life, people, relationships and God.
This confuses the woman, so God begins to explain:
When someone lies to you, it teaches you that things are not always as they seem. The truth is often far beneath the surface. Look beyond the masks people wear if you want to know their heart. And remove your own masks to let people know yours.
When someone steals from you, it teaches you that nothing is forever. Always appreciate what you have, for you never know when you might lose it. And never, ever take your friends and family for granted because today is the only guarantee you have.
When someone inflicts an injury upon you, it teaches you that the human state is fragile. Protect and take care of your body as best you can because it's the only thing you are sure to have forever.
When someone mocks you, it teaches you that no two people are alike. When you encounter people who are different from you, don't judge them by how they look or act. Instead base your opinion on the contents of their heart.
When someone breaks your heart, it teaches you that loving someone does not always mean that the person will love you back. But don't turn your back on love because when you find the right person, the joy that the one person brings will make up for all the past hurts put together.
When someone holds a grudge against you, it teaches you that everyone makes mistakes. When you are wronged, the most virtuous thing you can do it to forgive the offender without pretense. forgiving those who have hurt us is the most difficult, the most courageous, and the noblest thing man can do.
When a loved one is unfaithful to you, it teaches you that resisting temptation is man's greatest challenge. Be vigilant in your resistance against all temptation. By doing so, you will be rewarded with and enduring sense of satisfaction far greater than the temporary pleasure by which you were tempted.
When someone cheats you, it teaches you that greed is the root of all evil.
Aspire to make your dreams come true, no matter how lofty they may be. Do not feel guilty about your success, but never let an obsession with achieving your goals lead you to engage in malevolent activities.
When someone ridicules you, it teaches you that nobody is perfect. Accept people for their merits and be tolerant of their flaws. Do not ever reject someone for imperfections over which they have no control.
Upon hearing the Maker's wisdom, the old woman becomes concerned that there were no lessons to be learned from man's good deeds. God tells her that man's capacity to love it the greatest gift he has. At the root of all kindness is love, and each act of love also teaches us a lesson.
As the woman's curiosity deepens, God once again explains:
When someone loves us, it teaches us that love, kindness, charity, honesty, humility, forgiveness and acceptance can counteract all the evil in the world. For every good deed, there is one less evil deed. Man alone has the power to control the balance between good and evil, but because the lessons of love are not taught often enough, the power is too often abused.
When you enter someone's life, whether by choice or chance, what will your lesson be. Will you teach love or harsh reality? Each one of us has power over the balance of love. Use that power wisely.
Sent in to Starmag by May C
God replied that each person who enters our life has a unique lesson to teach us. And it is only through these lessons that we learn about life, people, relationships and God.
This confuses the woman, so God begins to explain:
When someone lies to you, it teaches you that things are not always as they seem. The truth is often far beneath the surface. Look beyond the masks people wear if you want to know their heart. And remove your own masks to let people know yours.
When someone steals from you, it teaches you that nothing is forever. Always appreciate what you have, for you never know when you might lose it. And never, ever take your friends and family for granted because today is the only guarantee you have.
When someone inflicts an injury upon you, it teaches you that the human state is fragile. Protect and take care of your body as best you can because it's the only thing you are sure to have forever.
When someone mocks you, it teaches you that no two people are alike. When you encounter people who are different from you, don't judge them by how they look or act. Instead base your opinion on the contents of their heart.
When someone breaks your heart, it teaches you that loving someone does not always mean that the person will love you back. But don't turn your back on love because when you find the right person, the joy that the one person brings will make up for all the past hurts put together.
When someone holds a grudge against you, it teaches you that everyone makes mistakes. When you are wronged, the most virtuous thing you can do it to forgive the offender without pretense. forgiving those who have hurt us is the most difficult, the most courageous, and the noblest thing man can do.
When a loved one is unfaithful to you, it teaches you that resisting temptation is man's greatest challenge. Be vigilant in your resistance against all temptation. By doing so, you will be rewarded with and enduring sense of satisfaction far greater than the temporary pleasure by which you were tempted.
When someone cheats you, it teaches you that greed is the root of all evil.
Aspire to make your dreams come true, no matter how lofty they may be. Do not feel guilty about your success, but never let an obsession with achieving your goals lead you to engage in malevolent activities.
When someone ridicules you, it teaches you that nobody is perfect. Accept people for their merits and be tolerant of their flaws. Do not ever reject someone for imperfections over which they have no control.
Upon hearing the Maker's wisdom, the old woman becomes concerned that there were no lessons to be learned from man's good deeds. God tells her that man's capacity to love it the greatest gift he has. At the root of all kindness is love, and each act of love also teaches us a lesson.
As the woman's curiosity deepens, God once again explains:
When someone loves us, it teaches us that love, kindness, charity, honesty, humility, forgiveness and acceptance can counteract all the evil in the world. For every good deed, there is one less evil deed. Man alone has the power to control the balance between good and evil, but because the lessons of love are not taught often enough, the power is too often abused.
When you enter someone's life, whether by choice or chance, what will your lesson be. Will you teach love or harsh reality? Each one of us has power over the balance of love. Use that power wisely.
Sent in to Starmag by May C
"I Love You, But..."
A soldier was finally returning home to the United States after having fought in the war in Vietnam. He phoned his parents from San Francisco and said: "Mom, Dad, I'm coming home, but I have a favour to ask. I've a friend I would like to bring home with me."
"Sure," his parents replied, "we'd love to meet him."
"There's something you should know" the son continued. "He was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a landmine and lost and arm and a leg. He has nowhere to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Dad, I want him to live with us."
"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives.
"I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to get by on his own."
At that point, the son hung up and his parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco polive: their son had died after falling from a building. They believed it was suicide.
The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify their son's body.
They recognised him, but to their horror, they also discovered something they didn't know - he had only one arm and one leg.
Sent to Starmag by Clement Chan Zhi Li
"Sure," his parents replied, "we'd love to meet him."
"There's something you should know" the son continued. "He was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a landmine and lost and arm and a leg. He has nowhere to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Dad, I want him to live with us."
"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives.
"I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to get by on his own."
At that point, the son hung up and his parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco polive: their son had died after falling from a building. They believed it was suicide.
The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify their son's body.
They recognised him, but to their horror, they also discovered something they didn't know - he had only one arm and one leg.
Sent to Starmag by Clement Chan Zhi Li
Playing for Dad
The son loved football but was not very good at it. But the dad didn't mind. Even though the son was always sitting out games on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game.
The young man was determined to try his best at every practice - perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through secondary school he never missed a practice or a game even though he remained a bench warmer for four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.
When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team. Everyone was sure he would never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he let the young man on the team because, as a junior, he always put his heart and soul into every practice while providing his team members with the spirit and hustle they needed.
The news that he had survived the cut thrilled the teen so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and got season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in the game.
Then, at the end of his senior football season, he trotted on to the practice field shortly before the big play off game only to be met by the coach with a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly white.
Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?" The coach put his arm gently around his shoulders and said, "Take the rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday."
Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well.
In the third quarter, when the team was 10 points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran to the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful team-mate back so soon.
"Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close championship game. But the young man persisted, and finally, feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in."
Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fan broke loose. His team-mates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you've never heard!
Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone. The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"
The young man looked at the coach with tears in his eyes and said, "Well, you knew my dad died, but did you knew that my dad was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!"
Sent to Starmag by Wong Lee Teng
The young man was determined to try his best at every practice - perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through secondary school he never missed a practice or a game even though he remained a bench warmer for four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.
When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team. Everyone was sure he would never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he let the young man on the team because, as a junior, he always put his heart and soul into every practice while providing his team members with the spirit and hustle they needed.
The news that he had survived the cut thrilled the teen so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and got season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in the game.
Then, at the end of his senior football season, he trotted on to the practice field shortly before the big play off game only to be met by the coach with a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly white.
Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?" The coach put his arm gently around his shoulders and said, "Take the rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday."
Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well.
In the third quarter, when the team was 10 points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran to the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful team-mate back so soon.
"Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close championship game. But the young man persisted, and finally, feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in."
Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fan broke loose. His team-mates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you've never heard!
Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone. The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"
The young man looked at the coach with tears in his eyes and said, "Well, you knew my dad died, but did you knew that my dad was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!"
Sent to Starmag by Wong Lee Teng
The Path We Choose
By Azlan Mahmud
He sat waiting inside his red Kancil, the air conditioner blowing out a gentle cool breeze. The radio was tuned to his favourite station, and was playing one of his all-time favourites, Sting's Englishman in New York. He found himself tapping to the music, his lips miming the lyrics. He stole a glance at his wrist watch - 8pm. It would be another 10 minutes before his friend arrived.
He had been working as a medical doctor for a good decade now, toiling in the now infamous government system. The work was hard; he had expected that. But now, he was growing disillusioned. He had been questioning his priorities. And why not? His contemporaries who worked in private practice were making 10 times more than he was, and they were enjoying the life that he wanted. He felt the time was right to join them.
It had been a late night and, as usual, he had finished his work in the operating theatre way past midnight. He wearily changed into his street clothes, and walked tiredly into the almost-empty hospital corridor. With the hours that I do, he thought to himself, I'd be a millionaire.
It was then that he caught sight of the bearded man lying on a bamboo mat in a small space between a wall and the entrance to the operating theatre.
The man was not alone; there were three children with him, the eldest probably no older than five. The youngest, who looked no more than a year old, began to stir in his sleep. His lips parted, and unintelligible sounds escaped from them, forming the prelude to a child's cry.
The man awoke slowly and reached for one of the milk bottles in a pink plastic bag. With a soft hushing sound, he gently placed the teat into the mouth of the child, who instinctively began suckling on it. The father's soft tapping on his thigh lulled him back to sleep.
He had seen this same man and his children in the same spot the past three nights that he was on call. Tonight though, something in him made him approach them. He knelt beside the man, and watched as his child's lips slowly parted and the bottle fell from his hands.
"He's asleep," he said, as he watched the bearded man's face. It mirrored a life of hardship, something he, who had lived all his life in the city, knew he could not even begin to comprehend. The man smiled.
"Yes. He's found it difficult to sleep ever since we came down from Bachok."
They have come a long way, he thought.
"Pardon me for asking, but why are you here?"
The man picked up the bottle and placed it back in the plastic bag. The child shifted uneasily in his sleep.
"My eldest daughter has cancer and she might not have long to live. The doctors here have tried their best. I want to be here when she goes to heaven."
Another child?
"Where is she warded?"
The man turned and pointed to a set of closed blue doors around the corner. Above it was a sign that read 'Paediatric Intensive Care Unit'.
"Surely you must have a place to stay?"
The man looked at his sons, who were in a deep slumber. Children without a care in the world.
"I have used up almost all my savings bringing my daughter here for treatment, and travelling up and down to visit her. Tomorrow I will have to go back as there's no one tending my durian orchard.
"And when I have collected enough money..." his voice trailed off and he turned to look once again at the closed blue doors ... "if my daughter still waits for me, I will be here when she decides to go."
Silence.
He got up, not knowing exactly what to say, and started to walk away. Just then, his pager beeped. He read the message on its small green screen, and let out a sigh. Another emergency.
He turned to look once again at the man and his children. The father was fast asleep, hugging his youngest child. It was almost as if he was afraid that this kid would leave him, too.
Who are they not to deserve the best of care? And with that thought, he walked briskly up the stairs towards the wards.
The loud honking of a car startled him out of his reverie. He looked left and saw his friend waving at him from a gleaming silver BMW. He watched as his smiling friend sauntered towards him wearing his designer clothes and shoes. He smiled back.
That is my friend's destiny, he thought. Mine is different.
From Starmag
He sat waiting inside his red Kancil, the air conditioner blowing out a gentle cool breeze. The radio was tuned to his favourite station, and was playing one of his all-time favourites, Sting's Englishman in New York. He found himself tapping to the music, his lips miming the lyrics. He stole a glance at his wrist watch - 8pm. It would be another 10 minutes before his friend arrived.
He had been working as a medical doctor for a good decade now, toiling in the now infamous government system. The work was hard; he had expected that. But now, he was growing disillusioned. He had been questioning his priorities. And why not? His contemporaries who worked in private practice were making 10 times more than he was, and they were enjoying the life that he wanted. He felt the time was right to join them.
It had been a late night and, as usual, he had finished his work in the operating theatre way past midnight. He wearily changed into his street clothes, and walked tiredly into the almost-empty hospital corridor. With the hours that I do, he thought to himself, I'd be a millionaire.
It was then that he caught sight of the bearded man lying on a bamboo mat in a small space between a wall and the entrance to the operating theatre.
The man was not alone; there were three children with him, the eldest probably no older than five. The youngest, who looked no more than a year old, began to stir in his sleep. His lips parted, and unintelligible sounds escaped from them, forming the prelude to a child's cry.
The man awoke slowly and reached for one of the milk bottles in a pink plastic bag. With a soft hushing sound, he gently placed the teat into the mouth of the child, who instinctively began suckling on it. The father's soft tapping on his thigh lulled him back to sleep.
He had seen this same man and his children in the same spot the past three nights that he was on call. Tonight though, something in him made him approach them. He knelt beside the man, and watched as his child's lips slowly parted and the bottle fell from his hands.
"He's asleep," he said, as he watched the bearded man's face. It mirrored a life of hardship, something he, who had lived all his life in the city, knew he could not even begin to comprehend. The man smiled.
"Yes. He's found it difficult to sleep ever since we came down from Bachok."
They have come a long way, he thought.
"Pardon me for asking, but why are you here?"
The man picked up the bottle and placed it back in the plastic bag. The child shifted uneasily in his sleep.
"My eldest daughter has cancer and she might not have long to live. The doctors here have tried their best. I want to be here when she goes to heaven."
Another child?
"Where is she warded?"
The man turned and pointed to a set of closed blue doors around the corner. Above it was a sign that read 'Paediatric Intensive Care Unit'.
"Surely you must have a place to stay?"
The man looked at his sons, who were in a deep slumber. Children without a care in the world.
"I have used up almost all my savings bringing my daughter here for treatment, and travelling up and down to visit her. Tomorrow I will have to go back as there's no one tending my durian orchard.
"And when I have collected enough money..." his voice trailed off and he turned to look once again at the closed blue doors ... "if my daughter still waits for me, I will be here when she decides to go."
Silence.
He got up, not knowing exactly what to say, and started to walk away. Just then, his pager beeped. He read the message on its small green screen, and let out a sigh. Another emergency.
He turned to look once again at the man and his children. The father was fast asleep, hugging his youngest child. It was almost as if he was afraid that this kid would leave him, too.
Who are they not to deserve the best of care? And with that thought, he walked briskly up the stairs towards the wards.
The loud honking of a car startled him out of his reverie. He looked left and saw his friend waving at him from a gleaming silver BMW. He watched as his smiling friend sauntered towards him wearing his designer clothes and shoes. He smiled back.
That is my friend's destiny, he thought. Mine is different.
From Starmag
Body Parts
My mother used to ask me what the most important part of the body was. Through the years I would take a shot at what I thought was the correct answer.
When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to humans, so I said: "My ears, Mummy." She said, "No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon."
Several years passed before she asked me the same question again. Since that first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. This time I told her, "Mummy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes."
She looked at me and said, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind."
Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, "No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child."
Then last year, my grandfather died. Everybody cried. Even my father. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I had seen him cry. Mum looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandpa.
"Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?" she asked. I was taken aback. I'd always thought that this was a game between us.
She saw the confusion on my face and said: "This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived. For every body part you gave me in the past, I had explained why your answer was wrong. But today, you need to learn one important lesson."
She looked at me as only a mother could. I saw her eyes well up with tears as she continued: "My dear, the most important part of your body is your shoulder."
"Is it because it holds up the head?" I asked.
"No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life. I hope you have enough love and friends so that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it."
Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of others. People will forget what you said and did, but they will never forget how you made them feel.
Sent to Starmag by Dennis Chee
When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to humans, so I said: "My ears, Mummy." She said, "No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon."
Several years passed before she asked me the same question again. Since that first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. This time I told her, "Mummy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes."
She looked at me and said, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind."
Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, "No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child."
Then last year, my grandfather died. Everybody cried. Even my father. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I had seen him cry. Mum looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandpa.
"Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?" she asked. I was taken aback. I'd always thought that this was a game between us.
She saw the confusion on my face and said: "This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived. For every body part you gave me in the past, I had explained why your answer was wrong. But today, you need to learn one important lesson."
She looked at me as only a mother could. I saw her eyes well up with tears as she continued: "My dear, the most important part of your body is your shoulder."
"Is it because it holds up the head?" I asked.
"No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life. I hope you have enough love and friends so that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it."
Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of others. People will forget what you said and did, but they will never forget how you made them feel.
Sent to Starmag by Dennis Chee
Heaven's Grocery Store
As I was walking down life's highway many years ago, I came upon a sign that dead "Heaven's Grocery Store". When I got a little closer the doors swung open wide. And when I came to myself, I found myself standing inside. I saw a host of angels. They were everywhere.
One handled me a basket and said, "My child, shop with care."
Everything a human needed was in that store and what you could not carry, you could go back for more.
First, I got some Patience. Love was in the same row. Further down was Understanding - you need that wherever you go.
I got a box or two of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two. And Charity, or course; I would need some of that too.
I couldn't miss the Holy Ghost ... it was all over the place. And then some Strength and Courage to help me run this race. My basket was getting full but I remembered I needed Grace.
And then I chose Salvation, for Salvation was for free. I tried to get enough of that, for you and me.
Then I started towards the counter to pay my grocery bill, for I thought I had everything to do the Master's will.
As I went up the aisle I saw Prayer and put that in, for I knew when I stepped outside I would run into sin.
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last things on the shelf. Song and Praise were hanging near, so I just helped myself.
Then I asked the angel, "Now how much do I owe?"
He smiled and said, "Just take them everywhere you go."
Again I asked, "Really now, how much do I owe?"
"My child," he said, "God paid your bill a long, long time ago."
Sent in to Starmag by Wong Mei Toon.
One handled me a basket and said, "My child, shop with care."
Everything a human needed was in that store and what you could not carry, you could go back for more.
First, I got some Patience. Love was in the same row. Further down was Understanding - you need that wherever you go.
I got a box or two of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two. And Charity, or course; I would need some of that too.
I couldn't miss the Holy Ghost ... it was all over the place. And then some Strength and Courage to help me run this race. My basket was getting full but I remembered I needed Grace.
And then I chose Salvation, for Salvation was for free. I tried to get enough of that, for you and me.
Then I started towards the counter to pay my grocery bill, for I thought I had everything to do the Master's will.
As I went up the aisle I saw Prayer and put that in, for I knew when I stepped outside I would run into sin.
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last things on the shelf. Song and Praise were hanging near, so I just helped myself.
Then I asked the angel, "Now how much do I owe?"
He smiled and said, "Just take them everywhere you go."
Again I asked, "Really now, how much do I owe?"
"My child," he said, "God paid your bill a long, long time ago."
Sent in to Starmag by Wong Mei Toon.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Reach Out For Mum
By Tam Yong Yuee
As Mother's Day neared, my mood turned pensive. The rain pattered on the water convolvulus (kangkong) patch in my backyard. The kangkong leaves are extended, like arms stretched heavenwards, unashamedly glorifying in the life-refreshing rain. Like a child with outstretched hands rushing towards his mother's open arms, reaching for that warm, comforting embrace.
My mother passed way over five months ago. I sensed the desperation (or was it fear?) in her face during the last moments. There are some religious and some superstitious explanations for that. Whatever. It was heart-rending, to say the least. If she had just slipped away in her sleep, I could have accepted it more placidly.
To my simple, finite mind, I could only interpret that desperate clinging to life as the hurt of being forcefully wrenched away from her loved ones.
In life, we take many things for granted. Mother's love for one. Mothers may not express their love in very apparent ways. But tucked snugly in a special corner of their heart, it is there, ready to be dispensed anywhere, any time.
How often when we need her help, she is there to look after our children (her grandchildren), or to prepare that delicious home-cooked meal to warm the stomach and heart - unconditionally.
Yet, it does not take a lot to please her. Just reach for that phone in your pocket or handbag. It will only take a few moments of your precious time. I had often seen how my mother's face lit up as she talked to her offspring on the phone.
So those of you who have the time for your mum today, don't let it end there.
Consecrate a prayerful and loving thought for her in your heart each passing day. May God bless all mothers!
From Starmag
As Mother's Day neared, my mood turned pensive. The rain pattered on the water convolvulus (kangkong) patch in my backyard. The kangkong leaves are extended, like arms stretched heavenwards, unashamedly glorifying in the life-refreshing rain. Like a child with outstretched hands rushing towards his mother's open arms, reaching for that warm, comforting embrace.
My mother passed way over five months ago. I sensed the desperation (or was it fear?) in her face during the last moments. There are some religious and some superstitious explanations for that. Whatever. It was heart-rending, to say the least. If she had just slipped away in her sleep, I could have accepted it more placidly.
To my simple, finite mind, I could only interpret that desperate clinging to life as the hurt of being forcefully wrenched away from her loved ones.
In life, we take many things for granted. Mother's love for one. Mothers may not express their love in very apparent ways. But tucked snugly in a special corner of their heart, it is there, ready to be dispensed anywhere, any time.
How often when we need her help, she is there to look after our children (her grandchildren), or to prepare that delicious home-cooked meal to warm the stomach and heart - unconditionally.
Yet, it does not take a lot to please her. Just reach for that phone in your pocket or handbag. It will only take a few moments of your precious time. I had often seen how my mother's face lit up as she talked to her offspring on the phone.
So those of you who have the time for your mum today, don't let it end there.
Consecrate a prayerful and loving thought for her in your heart each passing day. May God bless all mothers!
From Starmag
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
10 Ways to Love
Listen
without interrupting
Speak
without accusing
Give
without sparing
Pray
without ceasing
Answer
without arguing
Share
without pretending
Enjoy
without complaint
Trust
without wavering
Forgive
without punishing
Promise
without forgetting
without interrupting
Speak
without accusing
Give
without sparing
Pray
without ceasing
Answer
without arguing
Share
without pretending
Enjoy
without complaint
Trust
without wavering
Forgive
without punishing
Promise
without forgetting
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Creed For Women
A woman should have ...
One old love she can imagine going back to and one who reminds her how far she has come.
Enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own, even if she never wants to or needs to.
Something perfect to wear if the employees or date of her dreams should want to see her in an hour.
A youth she is content to leave behind, and a past juicy enough for her to look forward to retelling in her old age.
A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
One friend who always makes her laugh ... and one who lets her cry.
A good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.
Eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honoured.
And a feeling of control over her destiny.
Every woman should know ...
How to fall in love without losing herself, how to quit a job or break up with a lover, and how to confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
When to try harder and when to walk away.
That she cannot change the length of her calves, the width of her hips or the nature of her parents.
That her childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over.
What she will or will not do for love, or more.
How to live alone, even if she doesn't like it.
Whom she can trust, whom she cannot, and why she shouldn't take some things personally.
Where to go ... be it her best friend's kitchen table or a charming motel in the countryside when her soul needs soothing.
And what she can or cannot accomplish in a day, a month and a year.
Sent in to Starmag by Sharmini Suguman
One old love she can imagine going back to and one who reminds her how far she has come.
Enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own, even if she never wants to or needs to.
Something perfect to wear if the employees or date of her dreams should want to see her in an hour.
A youth she is content to leave behind, and a past juicy enough for her to look forward to retelling in her old age.
A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
One friend who always makes her laugh ... and one who lets her cry.
A good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.
Eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honoured.
And a feeling of control over her destiny.
Every woman should know ...
How to fall in love without losing herself, how to quit a job or break up with a lover, and how to confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
When to try harder and when to walk away.
That she cannot change the length of her calves, the width of her hips or the nature of her parents.
That her childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over.
What she will or will not do for love, or more.
How to live alone, even if she doesn't like it.
Whom she can trust, whom she cannot, and why she shouldn't take some things personally.
Where to go ... be it her best friend's kitchen table or a charming motel in the countryside when her soul needs soothing.
And what she can or cannot accomplish in a day, a month and a year.
Sent in to Starmag by Sharmini Suguman
The Best and The Worst
Most destructive habit:
Worry
Greatest joy:
Giving
Worst pastime:
Criticism
Best award:
Appreciation
Greatest loss:
Loss of self-respect
Most satisfying work:
Helping others
Ugliest personality trait:
Selfishness
Most endangered species:
Dedicated leaders
Our greatest natural resources:
Our youth
Greatest shot in the arm:
Encouragement
Greatest problem to overcome:
Fear
Most effective sleeping pill:
Peace of mind
Most crippling disease:
Excuses
Most powerful force in life:
Love
Most dangerous person:
A gossip
Most incredible computer:
The brain
Worst company:
Privilege seekers
Best company:
Holy men
Best thing to be without:
Jealousy
Worst thing to be without:
Hope
Deadliest weapon:
The tongue
Two most power-filled words:
I can
Greatest asset:
Faith
Most worthless emotion:
Self-pity
Most prized possession:
Integrity
Most powerful channel of communication:
Prayer
Most contagious spirit:
Enthusiasm
Most beautiful attire:
A smile
By M.L. Lou, in Starmag
Worry
Greatest joy:
Giving
Worst pastime:
Criticism
Best award:
Appreciation
Greatest loss:
Loss of self-respect
Most satisfying work:
Helping others
Ugliest personality trait:
Selfishness
Most endangered species:
Dedicated leaders
Our greatest natural resources:
Our youth
Greatest shot in the arm:
Encouragement
Greatest problem to overcome:
Fear
Most effective sleeping pill:
Peace of mind
Most crippling disease:
Excuses
Most powerful force in life:
Love
Most dangerous person:
A gossip
Most incredible computer:
The brain
Worst company:
Privilege seekers
Best company:
Holy men
Best thing to be without:
Jealousy
Worst thing to be without:
Hope
Deadliest weapon:
The tongue
Two most power-filled words:
I can
Greatest asset:
Faith
Most worthless emotion:
Self-pity
Most prized possession:
Integrity
Most powerful channel of communication:
Prayer
Most contagious spirit:
Enthusiasm
Most beautiful attire:
A smile
By M.L. Lou, in Starmag
Faithful in Small Things
I was shopping at an antiques sale in Tennessee, United States, and had just purchased a sampler to add to my collection - a little needlework girl sharing a bouquet of daisies with a neighbour over a picket fence. Below was an old saying: "Action speaks louder than words".
At the final booth, the elderly proprietor overheard me say that I was leaving and freeing up a parking space nearly. He was short-winded, battling emphysema and cancer, he explained, and his wife had just learned she had luch cancer.
"This will be our last show," he said, shaking his head at his charmingly displayed inventory.
With the chance to have my choice parking spot, the frail man followed me out to the lot to move his vehicle.
I started my car and waited, but he never came. "Probably changed his mind and is just going to leave me hanging. I'll give him five more minutes," I muttered to myself.
Then I spotted him in the rear view mirror, struggling on his cane as he huffed and puffed his way to my car window.
"Found an even closer spot, young lady," he said. "One with plenty of room for the wife's wheelchair when we packed up."
He pointed to an area nearly a block away, a huge distance for someone in his weak condition. "I wanted to let you know and to thank you again for the kind offer."
This gracious, true-to-his-word man had many excuses not to walk that extra distance. It was, after all, a small thing.
Yet, it had been important to treat someone he would never see again the way he would want to be treated.
"Actions speak louder than words." I'd heard that maxim all my life. But now I'd seen it lived.
A thought-provoking take by Roberta Messner (Everyday Blessings) sent to Starmag by Liew Swee Mio
At the final booth, the elderly proprietor overheard me say that I was leaving and freeing up a parking space nearly. He was short-winded, battling emphysema and cancer, he explained, and his wife had just learned she had luch cancer.
"This will be our last show," he said, shaking his head at his charmingly displayed inventory.
With the chance to have my choice parking spot, the frail man followed me out to the lot to move his vehicle.
I started my car and waited, but he never came. "Probably changed his mind and is just going to leave me hanging. I'll give him five more minutes," I muttered to myself.
Then I spotted him in the rear view mirror, struggling on his cane as he huffed and puffed his way to my car window.
"Found an even closer spot, young lady," he said. "One with plenty of room for the wife's wheelchair when we packed up."
He pointed to an area nearly a block away, a huge distance for someone in his weak condition. "I wanted to let you know and to thank you again for the kind offer."
This gracious, true-to-his-word man had many excuses not to walk that extra distance. It was, after all, a small thing.
Yet, it had been important to treat someone he would never see again the way he would want to be treated.
"Actions speak louder than words." I'd heard that maxim all my life. But now I'd seen it lived.
A thought-provoking take by Roberta Messner (Everyday Blessings) sent to Starmag by Liew Swee Mio
Crumpled But Still Valuable
A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a$20 bill. In the room of 200 eager participants, he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill?"
Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you, but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the bill.
He then asked: "Who still wants it?" The hands went up again.
"Well, what is I do this?" He dropped the bill and started to grind it into the floor with his foot. He then picked it up' it was not crumpled and dirty.
"Now who still wants it?" The hands continued to go up.
"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the bill, you wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20.
"Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless.
"But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives lies not in what we do or whom we know, but by who we are.
"You are all special - don't ever forget that."
Sent to Starmag by Clement Nathan
Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you, but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the bill.
He then asked: "Who still wants it?" The hands went up again.
"Well, what is I do this?" He dropped the bill and started to grind it into the floor with his foot. He then picked it up' it was not crumpled and dirty.
"Now who still wants it?" The hands continued to go up.
"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the bill, you wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20.
"Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless.
"But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives lies not in what we do or whom we know, but by who we are.
"You are all special - don't ever forget that."
Sent to Starmag by Clement Nathan
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Just some old quotes
Trouble, like the hill ahead, straightens out when you advanced upon it.
When you are down, the only way to go is UP.
Worry is interest paid on trouble before it is due.
If the dose is nasty, swallow it fast.
Health is a crown on a well man's head, but no one can see it but a sick man.
The true test of intelligence is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don't know what to do.
People who want by the yard but try by the inch, should be kicked by the foot.
When you are down, the only way to go is UP.
Worry is interest paid on trouble before it is due.
If the dose is nasty, swallow it fast.
Health is a crown on a well man's head, but no one can see it but a sick man.
The true test of intelligence is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don't know what to do.
People who want by the yard but try by the inch, should be kicked by the foot.
Give Up and You Shall Get
By Stephanie Marston
At the end of my daughter's senior year in high school, we decided to take a trip to the island in British Columbia where she was born. Neither of us had been back since she, her father and I had left some 16 years earlier.
Shortly after we arrived, we visited an old friend who's a jeweller. When she noticed me admiring one of her chrysanthemum rocks, she offered to make me a piece of jewellery if I found the right stone while on the island.
From that moment on I was on a quest. Every time I went for a walk I would scour the beach. I must have picked up several hundred stones. After days of intensive hunting I began to notice that I had become obsessed with finding "the perfect rock".
Without having realised it, I had gotten to the point where I was no longer enjoying myself. In fact, I was making myself miserable. Here I was in this idyllic setting and I felt as stressed out as I was in Los Angeles. I had become so driven to find a keepsake of our trip that I was missing the actual experience. I called off my search and for the first time since arriving I began to feel like I was on vacation.
A few days later I ran into an old friend who invited me to go on a picnic. We rode our bikes to a deserted beach. As we lay on our stomachs at the water's edge, I suddenly notices something tickling my palm. I looked down and there was a jet black stone with a perfectly formed circle etched on it's oval surface. The stone was exactly the right size for my ring finger. I was speechless. I had let go, given up and having expended no effort, I had found the very thing I had been looking for.
I began to think about how fear had driven much of my life. My self-assured veneer had camouflaged how truly frightened I had been - frightened that if I didn't push, nothing would happen.
Perhaps, after this experience, I could loosen my grip and allow myself to be carried more by life. Perhaps it was time to get my ego out of the way and allow something deeper to motivate me. Perhaps it was time top listen to a voice that has always existed, but one to which I had only intermittently listened. Perhaps it was time to allow the wisdom of my authentic self to be more present in my life - to heed the truth that I knew to be correct, but had too often ignored.
Since that experience I began to practise trusting whenever, wherever, however I found an opportunity. Each time we choose to trust - and it's not always easy - our faith grows incrementally stronger. On those occasions when I feel fear rising in the pit of my stomach, I glance down at my ring as a concrete reminder of what's possible for each of us when we open ourselves and surrender.
Sent to Starmag by Tan Hock Ang
At the end of my daughter's senior year in high school, we decided to take a trip to the island in British Columbia where she was born. Neither of us had been back since she, her father and I had left some 16 years earlier.
Shortly after we arrived, we visited an old friend who's a jeweller. When she noticed me admiring one of her chrysanthemum rocks, she offered to make me a piece of jewellery if I found the right stone while on the island.
From that moment on I was on a quest. Every time I went for a walk I would scour the beach. I must have picked up several hundred stones. After days of intensive hunting I began to notice that I had become obsessed with finding "the perfect rock".
Without having realised it, I had gotten to the point where I was no longer enjoying myself. In fact, I was making myself miserable. Here I was in this idyllic setting and I felt as stressed out as I was in Los Angeles. I had become so driven to find a keepsake of our trip that I was missing the actual experience. I called off my search and for the first time since arriving I began to feel like I was on vacation.
A few days later I ran into an old friend who invited me to go on a picnic. We rode our bikes to a deserted beach. As we lay on our stomachs at the water's edge, I suddenly notices something tickling my palm. I looked down and there was a jet black stone with a perfectly formed circle etched on it's oval surface. The stone was exactly the right size for my ring finger. I was speechless. I had let go, given up and having expended no effort, I had found the very thing I had been looking for.
I began to think about how fear had driven much of my life. My self-assured veneer had camouflaged how truly frightened I had been - frightened that if I didn't push, nothing would happen.
Perhaps, after this experience, I could loosen my grip and allow myself to be carried more by life. Perhaps it was time to get my ego out of the way and allow something deeper to motivate me. Perhaps it was time top listen to a voice that has always existed, but one to which I had only intermittently listened. Perhaps it was time to allow the wisdom of my authentic self to be more present in my life - to heed the truth that I knew to be correct, but had too often ignored.
Since that experience I began to practise trusting whenever, wherever, however I found an opportunity. Each time we choose to trust - and it's not always easy - our faith grows incrementally stronger. On those occasions when I feel fear rising in the pit of my stomach, I glance down at my ring as a concrete reminder of what's possible for each of us when we open ourselves and surrender.
Sent to Starmag by Tan Hock Ang
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Three Trees
Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. As they were discussing their hopes and dreams, the first tree said: "Some day I hope to be a treasure chest. I can be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I can be decorated with intricate carvings and everyone will see my beauty."
The the second tree said: "Some day I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally, the third tree said: "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People who see me at the top of the hill will look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God, and how close I am to them. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
A few years after that, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. One of them looked at the first tree and said: "This looks like a strong tree ... I should be able to sell its wood to a carpenter." He began to cut itdown. The tree was happy because he knew that the carpenter would turn him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree, the woodsmen said: "This looks like a strong tree; I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, he was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down, his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree. I'll take this one," and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenter's, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not what he had hoped for at all.
The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.
One day, a man and woman came into the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but the manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.
Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said, "Peace", and the storm stopped. The tree knew then that it had carried the King of Kings.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as people mocked the man carrying it. When they came to a stop at the top of a hill, the man was nailed to the tree and left to die there. When Sunday came, the tree realised that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as possible because Jesus had been crucified on it.
Each of the trees got what it wanted, although not in the way it had imagined. In the same way, God's plans for us are not always our plans, but they are always the best.
Sent to Starmag by Alicia Goh on 16 April 2006
The the second tree said: "Some day I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally, the third tree said: "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People who see me at the top of the hill will look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God, and how close I am to them. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
A few years after that, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. One of them looked at the first tree and said: "This looks like a strong tree ... I should be able to sell its wood to a carpenter." He began to cut itdown. The tree was happy because he knew that the carpenter would turn him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree, the woodsmen said: "This looks like a strong tree; I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, he was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down, his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree. I'll take this one," and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenter's, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not what he had hoped for at all.
The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.
One day, a man and woman came into the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but the manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.
Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said, "Peace", and the storm stopped. The tree knew then that it had carried the King of Kings.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as people mocked the man carrying it. When they came to a stop at the top of a hill, the man was nailed to the tree and left to die there. When Sunday came, the tree realised that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as possible because Jesus had been crucified on it.
Each of the trees got what it wanted, although not in the way it had imagined. In the same way, God's plans for us are not always our plans, but they are always the best.
Sent to Starmag by Alicia Goh on 16 April 2006
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