At times all it takes is a leap of faith to create faith

He watched as the evening sun dealt its oblique rays on to the transgressed shore. The waves crashed in hope to win back the mile they had lost to the thick boulders of the city. Under the heavy cloud of the city’s spirit and pollution, the panorama was breath taking, literally.

He was long used to the choke and wicked whispers of this city built by Britannia and concrete. The bridges that seemed to connect, also cut through the arteries and brought to an end the tracks left by the last generation. Anachronistic cenotaphs to iconoclasts and sensationalists, served to remind anyone who would look- the origins of the parimutuel progress of the city’s neighbourhoods.

Today, he stood on the balcony with a railing painted black and potted plants hanging in proportional chains looking at the sunset, waiting for the right moment, to do what he wanted to do.

The sparrows, parrots and crows, flew in tight groups keeping shape, towards their distant homes, cemented into the souls of every growing area. The decadent heart, was slowly being to be troubled by the clandestine wheels, which clogged the cycles and caused the tired black cells to curse and honk their way to a place of hopeful quite and peace.

The city with its sundering cacophony was a furlong away from where he was- caught in the mesmerising magic of the sunset. The ravenous sun, which scorched hard on works and toils, was now bidding its adieu for a few hours. It first dipped behind the miranda glasses of an assurance company- he moved a couple steps and could see it again. It then hid behind the veils of a corporate- he again moved.
The sun now hung, on a few yards of open horizon, between the corporate and a newspaper company. It pressed on now, a few yards from the translucent waters of the sea. By now he was at the end of the balcony. To get a better view he climbed over the spiky railing and stood confident on the edge.
A crowd gathered below- reporters hoped to scavenge a scandal,  police to ponder a rescue and others out of abject curiosity. He saw the finally minuscule crimson dive- he jumped.

As the crowd rushed fast towards him, he heard them scream and could feel the din. He was a star- he was a son of the sun. When they noticed who he was, the crowd was stupefied and a wail hung over.

The implications- the heir to the horizon of bridges had leapt over a rail! The parks laden with waste newspapers, airport with incomplete hangers! The shock. Who would bear the riots and rage of the malevolent men?

But their worst fears failed to come alive. He hung on from a shock cord. The sun after all never dies- it sets, only to returns to arise and awake.
The crowd noticed he wasn’t who they supposed. Neither was he a bud with two leaves – he was a someone, who they never knew was there.

Sometimes all it takes is a leap to create faith.

Jeremy Camp - There Will Be A Day ~ AL (Annotated Lyrics)

Whats your special moment in life?

• Getting out of bed every morning and thanking God for another beautiful day.
•  Laughing so hard your face hurts.
• A hot shower
• A special glance.
• Getting mail from a long lost friend.
• Taking a drive on a scenic road with no potholes.
• Hearing your favorite song on the radio.
• Lying in bed listening to the rain outside
• Finding the sweater you want is on sale for half price
• A long distance phone call
• Giggling.
• A good conversation.
• Finding a 100 shillings in your coat from last year.
• Laughing at yourself.
• Midnight phone calls that last for hours after service providers decide to be generous
• Laughing for absolutely no reason at all.
• Having someone tell you that you're a blessing.
• Laughing at an inside joke.
• Friends.
• Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you.
• Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep.
• Making new friends or spending time with old ones.
• Playing with your favorite doll that you wouldn't trade anything for the world.
• Late night talks with your roommate.
• Having mum play with your hair.
• Sweet dreams.
• Chit chat with friends.
• Song lyrics printed inside your new CD so you can sing along without feeling stupid.
• Going to a really good concert.
• Hugging the person you treasure.
• Watching the expression someone's face as they open a much-desired present from you.
• Watching the sunrise.
• Falling in love.
•  

Eerie night.......

He took one deep breath before he closed the box. Carefully, he tucked it neatly inside his closet, under his clothes where his daughter will not find it.

It’s almost time. He drove her daughter to school, and after kissing her goodbye, he went straight to his office.

It was an ordinary day, just like the previous days – home, school, office, home.

He still could not understand though what compelled him to get that box from the store the other day.

That night over dinner, he was happily conversing with his daughter. Asking her how her day was, what she learned in school, as he also told her of his own day’s account.

That was how it has always been. They were happy… just the two of them. He couldn’t ask for more.

Or could he?

After dinner, a brief bonding moment over their favorite show on TV, and her daughter went off to bed. He was left alone in the living room, sitting on his favorite chair.

It was supposed to be an ordinary night… just like the other nights.

But that night, he felt he wasn’t alone. There was someone, rather something, that was there with him… taunting him.

It wasn’t the first time he felt it, but that night, the “something” seemed to be more intense… persistent… stubborn.

Then, he felt that “something” enveloped his very being… he wasn’t his own self anymore.

Standing up from his chair, he went straight to his closet where he kept the box. He picked it up and walked straight back to where his favorite chair was.

Passing by the door of his daughter’s room, he took a peek and saw an angel sleeping… calmly.

He went back to his chair and sat down.

Carefully, he opened the box… got hold of the thing inside it. The light that comes from the outside hit the silver object, making it shine amidst a dark room

Holding it in his hands, it felt cold.

Lifting it up, he observed it from end to end, front and back… he felt it beckoned.

Slowly, lifting it higher until the nozzle touched the side of head… closing his eyes, and without thinking….....

*BANG!*

Silence

Is it over?

And as he lay there on the floor… cold… swimming in his own blood… an angel sat beside him crying.

Why look for pain?

Why, as the world spins, do I stand?
Still as the leaves, when there is no wind,
Why does it hurt so much?
When everything you believe in, feels right,
Why am I falling?

When everything around me is rising with the sun,
Why look for pain?
When there is none,
Is heaven a place on Earth?
Or does it come from the heart,
Every breath I take, is another fire, burning up inside,
I know that sometimes the truth hurts, but don’t ever let it slide.

Am I the only one, who takes pride in the little things?
The colour of the sky at dawn,
The feeling, knowing you’ve got something to give,
Even though they spit in your fire,
The freedom to run the waves, whenever the time is right,
The joy, of taking pride in who you are,
Even though they try and scar,
The flame of the candle, dancing in the window pane,
You are fulfilled; you have nothing more to gain.
Is there another part of me?
A part I do not know,
Whatever the future holds, I cannot tell yet,
But I can now see the glow,
A shimmer of light,
A glimmer of hope,
In everything I do.

Feel every moment you live,
For you do not know,
When the sun will stop rising,
Become who you were born to be,
For everyone is here for a reason,
Discover the meaning of life,
You will know when you’ve found it,
The warm heart, and sound of tiny toes,
Pitt-pattering on the floor,
The sound of giggling and laughter,
Where there was none before.

Feel love, when you give,
Not only when you get,
I ask for one thing,
Don’t leave this world yet,
You have many more things to discover,
The light is upon you,
And remember…
You’re never alone.

Golden era of human race may then truly begin....

What is it that drives human will? Maybe this question has been asked before. Or maybe for some, this question is very naïve to ask. But there can be plenty of answers and the question is how do you decide which is the most important of all. By driving the human will, I mean providing the motivation to struggle against adversities, to hope when surrounded by dire circumstances and to fight for what one desires. This motivation, does it come from some ancestral instinct or is it acquired after birth in childhood years.
We can possibly classify the factors of this motivation into two broad categories; fear and want. Both stem out from basic survival instinct. Fear in a broader sense, as an instinct, teaches us to seek protection from that what might harm us. Be it beasts, storms or enemies. Fear then develops into many different types depending upon the situation. In the most primitive environment, the fear can be of a wild beast or a storm. In modern sense fear often stems not from direct objects or events but rather consequences of events. In simpler words modern day fear is about losing. Like fear of losing money or wealth, fear of losing loved ones or fear of losing power and status and so on. In some parts of the world fear for life is still very much a real phenomenon. Genocides, civil wars and terrorist acts continue to spill blood even in the civilized world.
Fear may be the driving factor in most of the cases. Especially in situations threatening status quo, may it be an extreme incident like natural disasters or riots and wars where actual existence is at stake. In such cases we find exceptional will power in most common people. The will to survive enables people endure worst suffering in hope that it will pass. Another type of circumstances may be less extreme in comparison but still can have a huge impact on an individual’s life. These may be serious in varying degrees. From losing one’s job to having a heartbreak, from facing public disgrace to losing wealth and status. And each individual will react differently and in different extent to each of these threats.
While fear drives most people to bring forth will power even they never knew hitherto existed, want drives people to draw on enormous strength and resolve to get what is desired. An entire gamut of emotions comes under the want category, from simple survival needs like food and water to natural instincts like  excesses that is greed, ambition and lust. Simple logic might suggest that more basic is the need, stronger the will to fulfill it. This is true in most of the cases. A person deprived of food might kill to eat. But there are many occasions when excesses like greed, luxury or lust drive people so hard that they tend to forget the difference between the right and wrong, giving rise to crimes like corruption, scams and rapes.
While we search for the answer to the question about what drives the human will, we also need to search for one more answer. How do we use this knowledge to mould and channelize human race from civilization to super-civilization, a mature society where peaceful co-existence and mutual co-operation are pillars of the social order?
Golden era of human race may then truly begin.

Despicable,deplorable.............

"No"

She had said just that. One word. It was so potent, so poisonous, it was eating his insides. He knew it was a lie. And he knew that she knew it.

"Don't you love me anymore?" He had asked.

"No."

That one word was enough to wipe away five years from his life. Those five years in which she had become an inevitable part of his life. He knew that her sacrifices in these five years far exceeded his. He only wished she had a little more patience. Now the things seemed to be changing. He was changing. He was no longer the idealistic and adamant young man that he had been. Age and agony had mellowed him down.

For five whole years she had supported him. They met at a bus stop on the day he had run away from his house. She had taken him in when they were strangers. She was staying alone and knew that her neighbours would react unfavourably to her letting in a young man. But she braved the opposition, fought the odds. Maybe she liked him from the first day she met him. As days went by she had fallen for his charm and his firebrand idealism.

She worked as a waitress in a hotel during the day and some nights sold her body to uncaring strangers in some cheap hotel room. He stayed at home all day, wrote poems and essays, went out and discussed politics with whoever he met. She didn't mind. She was deeply in love with him. He loved her too but he loved poetry too and literature and humanity and animals and environment and so the list was endless. She loved him.

First sparks appeared when he first slapped her. She wanted to go for a movie with her friends while he wanted her to stay home with her. "I am not your wife." She had said. His answer was a slap across her cheek. It was the first time they did not speak to each other for more than a day. That night for the first time since they met, she slept without him reading a poem to her. Next day their fight had ended. She could not bear to annoy him any longer. Nor could he. She admitted it. He did not.

"Why don't you take a job?" She had asked. It took her four years to ask this.
"Why?"
"So that I can stop selling my body. So that we can get married."
"Why do you want to get married?" he had asked. And did not understand then why her answer was only mute tearful eyes. Her look had made him feel guilty. But his idealism was still alive.

After that day, almost every day was the same. Everyday till today.He found his bags on the doorstep when he returned from a stroll. Through closed doors he had asked "Don't you love me anymore?"

"No."

I'm sorry ,Jonathan

“Good morning, honey! Did you sleep well?” I asked Jonathan as he enters the kitchen.

“I don’t know Mom,” he replied, rubbing his eyes, “what’s for breakfast?” and seated himself on the table.

“Here you go honey, pancakes for you… soft and fluffy, just the way you like them,” as I plant a big morning kiss on my 6-year old boy. “and of course, your favorite chocolate syrup for your pancake.”

“Thanks mom! You’re really the best!” he enthusiastically replied, and gave me a big hug.

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g!

It only took one ring from the telephone to bring me back to reality, where I found myself alone in the kitchen… with no Jonathan around

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

My coffee have gone cold, I wasn’t even able to take a sip, I was busy thinking

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

I was not really in a hurry to answer the phone

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

Maybe because I knew that it’s my mother, who consistently calls every morning to check how I was and maybe to find out if I made it through the night.

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

Finally, I stood and picked up the phone, “Hi Mom!”

“Liza!” said the voice on the other line, “why can’t you answer the phone immediately? I know, don’t tell me, you’re thinking about Jonathan again, right?” my mother asked

I was silent… I didn’t reply

“It’s been six years already, why can’t you let go? There’s nothing more you can do now.”

“I know mom,” tears started running down my cheeks, “I’m trying my best mom, I do.”

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to be too harsh on you… I’m just worried. You want me to go there?”

“No mom, I’m just fine really. I understand you mom, and I appreciate it. Thank you very much mom. I really have to go now, talk to you later mom. Bye! I love you.”

“Bye sweetie! Take care of yourself now, I love you.”

I got my coat and went to the park… maybe some fresh air would do me good.

Seating on a park bench and taking a sip on my coffee, a ball rolled near my feet, followed by a cute little girl who picked it up, “Good morning little Becky! What a beautiful dress you’re wearing today! Are you having fun in the park?”

“Hi Miss Liza! I’m sorry if my ball disturbed you, I hope you’re not mad.”

“Oh, you sweet little thing, how thoughtful of you. Of course I’m not mad. You’re really a sweet girl, my Jonathan would have loved to play with you”

“So where is Jonathan? I’ve been hearing his name but I haven’t seen him yet,” she asked.

I was searching for words, I didn’t know what to answer the little girl.

Just then, Becky’s mother approached us and pulled her, she pointed to me and said, “Don’t you ever talk to my girl about your Jonathan again, I don’t want her to have anything of it, you understand?!”

“Hey sweetheart, chill! Liza didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be too hard on her.” That’s George, Becky’s father

“I’m sick and tired of all this Jonathan talk, it’s not normal anymore. You should see a doctor girl, A-S-A-P!” Valerie, Becky’s mother, said to me.

“She just miss him honey, let her be”

“She brought it upon herself, George! She’s at fault! She deserved all this!” yelled Valerie

“You know,” said George, “as a mother like her, you should be the first one to understand her”

“She was NEVER a mother!” she quipped

That’s all I can take. I stood up and run as I was silently crying… everything that Valerie said was true… everything!

I run, not knowing where to go… not knowing what to do… and because I wasn’t looking, I bumped into another person….

“I knew I’d find you here,” said a man’s voice who helped me pick myself up after the collision.

“YOU! Get your hands off me!” I shouted when I recognized the face of the man. It’s Vinz, Jonathan’s father… rather, supposed-to-be father.

I met Vinz when I was still a gullible 18-year old, he was 22 then.

Vinz was everything I was looking for in a man – in command, full of confidence, tough and yet does not hesitate showing his softness through his sweetness. He showered me with love, caring, tenderness… I thought it would not end.

I loved him so much, our relationship lasted for almost two years… until I excitedly surprised him with the news that I was pregnant… but I was more shocked by his revelation.

“I’m really sorry Liza, I’m excited and all about our baby… but I can’t marry you… I am already married.”

I didn’t know how I reacted, or if I even replied or asked questions… I don’t remember anything… everything went blank… I can’t even recall how we parted ways… all I can remember is that, it was the last time I saw him.

Now, after six years, here he is again… standing in front of me…

“I miss you Liza. I’ve been looking for you. Where’s our child? He must be big now, is he?” he excitedly asked.

“You don’t have a child! You don’t have anything! How dare you show your face to me again! Get out of here! You ruined my life! I don’t want to see you again!”

“Please, let me explain Liza… I just went home to…”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say Vinz…. I don’t want to see you again…” and when I got loose from his grip, I run again… faster this time…

“Liza! I came back for you… my wife, I mean my ex-wife and I are now legally separated… Liza… please…” Vinz was shouting… but I didn’t hear any of it. I was busy running, my mind was spinning… I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… I was confused, I just kept on running

I found myself standing in front of my mother. She was holding back her tears as she opens her arms and gestures for me to come to her.

“Mom…” I said, as I hug her like I was the baby that I used to be…

“Sshhh…” she said, “you’ve been having a bad day, sweetie.” She hugged me back, I miss my mother’s embrace… it was the most comforting place in the world, inside my mother’s arms.

“Come, let’s go to your room so you can rest.”

That night, I was back in the same room that I grew up in… the same bed I was sleeping in six years ago until I decided to be stupid and run away from home. I was scared to tell them I was pregnant… that’s when I went to Aunt Emmy, who took take care of me while I was still deciding on what to do with my baby.

“Mom…” I called her, she was seated on a chair beside the bed, just watching me, “mom, I’m really sorry…”

“Sshhh… don’t worry about anything sweetie… you need to sleep. I know you’re very tired. Go to sleep now honey… you’re home,” and she kissed me in the forehead… and just like that, I was peaceful again…

I don’t know how long I have been sleeping when I heard a voice call me,

“Mommy”

“Jonathan, is that you?” I asked. I looked around but I can’t see a thing. Everything was dark.

“I love you mommy,” said the voice of a boy.

“I love you too Jonathan, I do my son, I do”

“LIAR! You don’t love me, you NEVER love me!” he accused me.

“But I do, I really love you Jonathan, please believe me”

“Why didn’t you give me a chance to feel that love mommy? Why didn’t you give me a chance to hold you… to touch you… to embrace you… to love you… to see you. Why didn’t you let me live mommy? You said you love me… but why mommy? Why?”

“I’m sorry Jonathan… I’m really sorry… I was confused… I didn’t know what to do, I was alone… I’m sorry Jona…” was all I can say while I was crying

“I love you mommy… I love you… I love…” he was saying, as his voice was slowly fading…

“I love you too my son… I’m really sorry… I’m sorry Jona…

My soul wasn't the devil

*woop*

There I was standing in front of him as he is seated on his throne, sizing me up with his baleful stare before he spoke to me, “And what are you going to give me if I grant you this wish of power, fame and fortune?”

“M—m—my…my soul?” *gulp* I replied hesitantly

“Your soul!!! YOUR SOUL?!!! Bwahahahaha! You’re offering me your soul! Bwahahaha!” the prince of darkness said in a rather sarcastic tone

“Ahehe… yes… my soul… hehe…”

“And why do you think I would want your soul?!” he asked, as he stood from his throne and walks toward where I stand

“Bu—but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? I make a wish and in return I promise to give you my soul when I die?” I asked him

“Bwahahaha!” he now stands towering over me, “Bwahaha! Listen kid, either you’re watching too much fiction or you bumped your head on way down here.”

“Eh?” was my puzzled reply

“In these times, I would hardly lift a finger to get anybody’s soul. Souls are a dime-a-dozen today kid! Everybody’s very much willing to give their soul to the devil, and they are not even aware of it.”

By now, I don’t know if I’m puzzled, I’m nervous or I just want to get out of there

“People have sex, and they call it love. It doesn’t matter if they are not married or one of them is married, all they know is that they are in love and there’s nothing wrong with being in love, right? That is why they keep on doing it, all because love justified their lust.”

“but…” I started to speak…

“Oh, don’t butt in yet, I’m just starting…” he continued, “look at the progress that is happening around… new bridges, roads, schools, buildings – development! Who doesn’t love progress? But every time a new bridge is built, a new building erected or roadways developed, I get more souls, all because the powers-that-be were just getting their ‘fair share.’ I believe that’s what they call in your world S.O.P., and THEY ACTUALLY BELIEVE IT’S OKAY!”

He continued to speak as he walks slowly around me

“Aahh… technology, I’ve never had an able assistant since the dawn of the Internet. And I’m not even referring to those surfing on porn sites and watching nude photos online, those were given, hardly any challenge there. But I’m referring to those very cunning social media. Thanks to them, people would rather chat with their friends, tend to their virtual farms, upload their most recent photos, and even shop online… they are so busy doing all these things that they no longer read the bible… heck! They don’t even pray anymore!”

“So, you see, you are not really in a position to bargain with me offering your soul. What I’ve mentioned to you are just few of your people’s follies, and I can feel that they will keep on doing these things… and the more powerful I will become… AND I’M NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING! Isn’t that great?!”

“Bwahahaha! Bwahahaha!” his laugher is beginning to annoy me now.

“A-hehehe… I see your point… I – I – I’m really sorry for wasting your time… I better go now,” and I tried to walk away slowly…

“NOT SO FAST! It’s not that easy you know, just by coming to me, you have actually given me your soul. You have lost more than your share of bargain… you people are such an idiot!”

“Wait a minute! You have not given me my wish! That’s not fair!”

“Fair?! Me, the devil? You want me to play fair? Bwahahaha!”

In his mind...........

 --------------------------------------------------------

"I tell you, he’s going to crack up"

 "No, he won’t. I don’t think so”

 “Yes, he will. It won’t be long now”

 “He will not, he is tough, you know that”

 “And that toughness is what’s going to betray him”

 Roy looked around him. He’s sure he heard voices talking, but there’s 

nobody around.

 His kids have all left for school, he’s all alone in his house now.

.Dismissing the voices he heard as some passersby who might be talking 

too loud, Roy looked at the clock. 

Seeing that it’s almost 8 o’clock, he hurriedly took a bath, get dressed and went 

off to work. Just another day of being late at work.

 “Look at him, he seems to have no cares at all”

 “He doesn’t, and you know that”

 “I hope so… I hope so”

 Roy went in his daily routine in the office. Doing some paperworks, checking some 

documents, reading and responding to emails, and other stuff that he seems to perform

 in a “mechanical” sort of way.

After work, he went straight home. It was almost 7 p.m. when he reached their house, 

where his three kids are already waiting.Fortunately for Roy, his son can already cook, that

 is why dinner was already prepared. After changing clothes, he called on the kids so they can take their dinner.

“A picture of a happy family!”

 “Yes, they are. That’s why I can’t understand where you’re getting your idea about Roy”

 “Like I said, a picture of a happy family… only, there’s something lacking in the picture… someone, rather”

Roy looks at his kids, they were all conversing. Happily talking about the day that just passed.

 They all seem to be happy.Roy wonders… it seems his kids don’t even hear a whisper…. only he 

is hearing the voices…

After dinner, the kids took care of the dishes. Roy checked on his email for a while, and then 

went to bed.The kids also went to bed early. Such is their routine.It’s more than two years since

 Roy’s wife passed away. He was left with their three kids – Ralph, Edgar, and Angel. He is thankful

 though that his wife raised them well.

 Young as they are, the kids are already responsible, they took the death of their mother quite bravely… 

they were able to move on.Roy also went on with his life. Attending to the needs of the kids, trying to 

do his best to continue where his wife left off in guiding their children. He wasn’t really much of a good role model, 

but he’s trying.His friends sometimes can’t help but admire Roy for his strong faith, like he can handle 

any storm that comes in his life… and there were many of them. The passing of his wife seemed 

to be the biggest blow of all.

Roy wasn’t used to being alone… much more, being in charge. Nobody knew it, but it was his wife who would

 always push Roy to give his best… she alone knows how to encourage him… she alone understands him.

But now, Roy has to continue… he has three kids to take care of.

 He can’t wait for anybody to push him, 

he needs to push himself… he is all alone.Sometimes, he would take the kids out… either to eat, 

see a movie, or just spend time in the mall. He wants his kids to be close to each other when they 

grow up. So that when he’s gone, they would look after one another.His daily routine would be like 

that… work… home… work. He never really had a social life. He never wanted any.

“It’s a good thing I did not take you on your bet, otherwise, you could have loss”

 “Who says I’ve loss? I still want to take that bet if you’re up to it”

 “You mean, you still believe that…”

 “Of course, I do!”

Days went by with Roy’s daily routine. Nothing changes… day in, day out.No one would suspect 

because he would always wear a happy face, with nary a hint of any trouble inside.

Everything was fine.One evening, the kids were all waiting for their father… it’s almost 10 p.m. 

but he is not yet home. 

The kids were worried. Night passed and the morning came, but there wasn’t a shadow 

of Roy in the house. There were no calls even. The kids were very much worried.

Ralph called on their grandmother, Roy’s mother, to tell her about their father. 

She immediately went to the kids, while Roy’s sister and nieces went around town looking for him.

They went to his office and asked, but all they can say was he just took off fine the other day. 

They went to hospitals and precincts to ask, but neither have any 

record nor heard about Roy.No clues. Where could he be?Days… weeks… months has passed, 

and there were neither signs nor news about Roy. His mother took care of the kids, making sure that 

they could go with their lives normally.

Still, they were looking for their father…

It’s been almost a year, while the kids have accepted the fact that they may never see their father, they 

still miss 

him and hope that someday they will find him again.Meanwhile, in some corner in the street at the downtown, 

there’s a man who sits on the side of the street. He has a hair so long that it almost covers his face, 

and from the looks of it, it seems the man haven’t taken a bath for quite a long time. His face was 

beyond recognition, he was almost covered with charcoal… or was it grease?He wore a white t-shirt 

that has many holes, or it more seem like, a hole with a t-shirt on it. His pants, ragged and all, can’t be

 assured if it was really black or it was all dirt.Passersby would always move away when they approach

 his location, because aside from his scary looks, they can smell him stink even from miles away.

 “See! I told you he would snap! It took longer than I expected, but eventually he did”

“Yeah, I really thought he won’t. I really wish he did not”

 Just then, the ragged man stood up and approached the two individuals, “Who are you people?

 Why are you always following me?!” he asked in a rather harsh voice.“What? You mean you can see us?”

 “Why are you surprised? Of course, he can see us! He’s on our plane now. He can see us now and so his other 

persona”

Just then, the three men were suddenly surrounded by ten people.

 No, more like twenty people… perhaps even 

more.They come in different shapes and sizes – man, woman, kids, adult, old, fat, short, thin, 

tall, grumpy, happy, 

black, white, brown but what’s funny, the ragged man noticed, all the people looked the same.

They all seem to have the same face… they all look like… Roy.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

........................................... 

Appearances

I wish I felt beautiful all the time

I wish I could trust you with my life

I wish I could live, dance, just be, without a care

But to be human is to be self-conscious

So I pretend I am all these… and wonder if anyone sees through the mask.

Life is about appearances. It's about the phone you have, the people you hang around, the person you're dating, the car you're driving, where you live… but life begins when we stop making it about them, and start making it about you. Are you doing things for them, or for you? Do you want to look a certain way for you, or is it for them?

Sometimes we feel comfortable hiding our true selves from everyone else. The problem is that we can't hide from ourselves. We know what we're going through. We know what haunts us.

And when we make mistakes, we want to take the easy way out. We want to pretend it's not there;

How do you think?

If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don't!
If you'd like to win, but you think you can't,
It's almost certain you won't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you think you'll lose, you're lost;
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow's will;
It's all in the state of mind!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you think you're outclassed, you are;
You've got to think high to rise.
You've got to be sure of yourself
Before you 'll ever win the prize.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man;
But sooner or later the man who wins
Is the person who thinks he can!

Heart Prints

Whatever our hands touch...we leave
fingerprints on.
On walls, on furniture, on door knobs,
dishes and books.

As we touch we leave our identity..
Oh please where ever I go today...
help me leave heart prints.

Heart prints of compassion,
understanding and love.
Heart prints of kindness and genuine concern.

May my heart touch a lonely neighbor...
or a runaway daughter...
or an anxious mother...
or perhaps a dear friend!

I shall go out today...
to leave heart prints...
and if some one should say...
"I felt your touch!"
 

Confessions of a Closet Republican

Confessions of a Closet Republican

TIRED!!!!!!!!

Christmas Shoes (by: Newsong)

Damita Haddon - No Looking Back

Selah - Bless The Broken Road (with lyrics)

Chapter 4

Helen stares.

     "Tomorrow?" she repeats. "Where?"

     "The Blanc place."

     He studies her expression.

     "Busy day?" he asks. "Hair appointment?"

     He laughs. There is a strange pride in the way he teases her about her empty, frivolous days. He is the sole breadwinner now.

     "No problem. The Blanc place it is," she says.

     But Helen is seething. That means the local mall is out. That means it has to be the city centre again. She was there last week, when that middle-aged businessman followed her around. She knew he was plain-clothes security. He had the look. She was carrying her Debenham's bag; she always carries a department store bag with a number of purchased items inside it. A basic rule. And she was dressed well and carrying a good quality handbag. Her new one is Italian and black linen, full of expensive clues to background and breeding. Intimidation. The guy hadn't been intimidated though. He'd stayed close.

     In the city centre the following day, Helen avoids Harvey Nicks, too many close calls there, and heads to House of Fraser. A lanky kid in sweats shoots up from nowhere. He is behind her as she enters the store. He is still there at the jewellery counter. She is certain he is security; she has learned to spot them. Helen avoids looking at him. She picks up a scarf, replaces it, studies earrings, bracelets, tries one of them on her wrist, then puts it back. He waits, watching.

     When she takes the escalator, he is four people behind her. Lingerie will smoke him out, she knows that. It's worked well before. She can feel him. She glances at her watch and catches her breath. She is almost out of time. She has to be at the restaurant in half an hour.

Chapter 3...

  There are many things, she admits now, that Daniel does not understand. Things that are grey, with edges that are undefined, confuse him. He would not understand what had happened today in the department store.

     In the newly decorated bedroom of her immaculate suburban home, Helen places the earrings and scarf in the locked trunk with the other shoplifted items. There are hundreds of them now. Many hundreds. She calls them her gifts to the dark gods. She knows that it is the dark gods who turn the wheels of a tricycle and send the toddler screaming into traffic, the dark gods who guide children to falling fences, hidden currents and smiling strangers with death in their black hearts. She cannot afford to stop now, after such a soft, uneventful life. Who knows what vengeance the dark gods might take?

     She can't remember exactly when it began. It was soon after Chloe and Nick left for university, when she quit her job at the advertising company. When she became, as Daniel describes her, a lady of leisure.

     "We can afford it, sweetheart. Do charity work or something. No need for you to stress out in

     advertising."

     It started in Marks and Spencer's food hall: she stole a chocolate bar at the counter. A week later she took a magazine. It grew to two items a week. The rules gradually became more complex and demanding. The rule now is: two items a week by Friday at three in the afternoon. The items have to be from the same store, on the same floor, and they have to be different. Two scarves, for example, won't do. Today's items, the pretty scarf, the silly earrings, don't qualify because she has paid for them. The problem now is that she is behind. She is two items behind. And it is already Thursday. Tomorrow then. At the Mall.

     "Meet me for lunch tomorrow?" Daniel asks, as they have dinner. "That client we met at the Algarve. John Stanton? He's in town with his wife. " 

.....................................

Chapter 4

Chapter 2...

"Perhaps if I pay for these things now? " she asks.

     When she reaches her car, Helen is shaking too hard to insert the key into the car door. She stands still, taking deep, gulping breaths, willing herself to calm down. That was too close.

     They had almost called Daniel. The thought makes her light-headed. Her husband is a man of principle and firm opinions. A strong man, which is why she married him. He seemed the type of man who would take care of her. And he has. But his view of the law is simple and punitive. He thinks that teenage gang members who commit murder should be executed, that fourteen-year-old thieves should be tried as adults. Only yesterday they had disagreed over a youth arrested for stealing a bottle of cider in a local off-license.

     "It was an initiation thing," Helen had said. "His mother's a crack head. He wants to be part of the gang. He wants a family."

     Daniel had given her a long look.

     "He's probably been unhappy and hungry all of his life," Helen added.

     "Nobody's hungry in this country, " Daniel said. He actually believed it. "You heard of Benefits?"

     Helen thought of the people in the literacy programme – young and old, struggling with so many demons. Hunger was not unknown. Though her teenage pupils were more likely to eat badly than not at all, their problems went far beyond an inability to read or write.

     Daniel knows little about the literacy programme. He believes she teaches pensioners how to use a computer. He would not understand Amanda, the girl who carries a kitchen knife to make small cuts in her wrists when she is stressed. Or Zak, the boy with HATE tattooed on his forehead.

     When she first met Daniel, he was studying law and she was passionately involved in a course on Writing and Madness. She would quote Rimbaud, Breton. He teased her for taking this "foreign" literature seriously. He made her feel stupid for liking it, stupid for understanding it. An irony that did not occur to her until much later. 

...............................................

GIFTS TO THE DARK GODS. Chapter 1

The tap on her shoulder freezes her; the quiet, warning voice in her ear is exactly what she has feared. In a small dark place inside herself she is prepared for both. She had not expected a teenager.
     "Come with me please, Madam," the young man says, his back stiff with self-importance.
     He is young enough to be her son; young enough to be one of the troubled youths she tutors in the small charity-run literacy programme in the suburbs. She is tutoring a boy now: he has a tattoo on his forehead that spells HATE and eyes that dart around the room, alert for predators. This young man, though also dark skinned and mixed-race, keeps his eyes averted. He is smooth suited and smells of fresh citrus cologne as he grips her arm and leads her to the manager's office.
     The manager is tired and he lowers his pale lashes when he asks to see her ID, as if asking for something intimate, inappropriate. Then he turns to his computer.
     Helen swallows. This is new. As he scrutinizes the screen, then types something into the computer, fear knots her chest. Her name is now accessible to every major store in the city. The next time she is caught she will be arrested and booked. No question.
     "Is that legal?" she asks. "Storing information on someone who hasn't even been charged?"
     "You want to call your husband?" he replies, with a tiny smile. "Or a lawyer?"
     "My husband is a lawyer," Helen says.
     The manager blinks rapidly, the smile vanishes. The young man who had escorted her from the jewelery department leans against the door and makes a small groaning sound.
     "He'll be very angry if I call him," Helen says. "At me. Or at you. I'm afraid he's likely to make a big fuss about wrongful arrest."

     They understand her. She knows they haven't called the police yet. She is carrying a fat wad of cash in her purse, four credit cards, including a Platinum American Express and their own Valued Customer Card. She wears an emerald ring, an anniversary gift from her husband. The diamond studs in her ears are one caret each. She is easily able to pay for the designer scarf and the hard plastic earrings in the shape of sunflowers she was seen to stuff into her bag. Helen knows that what most disturbs them is that these are two different items, from two separate counters. But she always steals two items. That is one of her rules. It has to be two items, from different counters, from the same floor of the same store. But they want to let her go. They don't want trouble. 

.........................................................

chapter 2

By  Mary

Superficial?

Written by Kimberley,

Do you have any depth? I'm not asking about the face-to-face you that a privileged few might get to see. I'm talking about the social-media-out-in-front-of-your-thousands-of-follower/friends you.

I've read a lot of blogs lately about professionalism, social media, blogging, etc. etc. etc.

And it's made me think. A lot.

Do you think there's the "professional" you and the "personal" you?
Do you think there's a "social media" you and the person you are face-to-face with your closest friends?

Here's my two cents on this (and as you read this - think about whether you feel the same way):
-I can only be the best "me" that I can be. No one else can do it. Only I can. Same goes for you.
-I'm a real person with feelings and emotions and thoughts. Don't put me on a pedestal. Ever. I don't ever deserve that. Or want it for that matter.
- I do believe that there is a "public" and a "private" persona. But for me, I don't ever want it to be a facade. I'm still going to be real whether it's one-on-one or social media.

Now let me ask you a few questions. Feel free to comment with your answers or to email or  FB message me.

What do you look for in your networking - meaning - social media?
-Do you only want friends? Fans? Family?
-How much time do you spend on social media, blogs, forums each day?
-What interests you on social media? (for instance, I have people get upset if I don't tweet or FB enough about what I'm cooking - because that's what they want to know/see -and that's perfectly fine, because I love to cook, so it's fun to share with others)
-What makes you keep coming back for more? (websites, blogs, tweets, whatever - and I'm not just talking about here - I'm talking about every site that you like/visit)

Feel free to answer as few or as many as you like.

Why do I share this with you and ask you these questions? Well, frankly, I want to know your thoughts. And your opinion and thoughts are valuable here. And I really wanted to just get the discussion going about social media. Let's think about whether we are superficial or have some good ol' meaty depth.

Pride..The Lesson that keeps needing to be learned

 Courtesy of Kimberley,


Do you ever struggle with pride? Now be honest. Don't lie to me. Or to yourself.

Pride is the basis for well... let's just say it... all sin. Proverbs 16:18 puts it clearly: "Pride goes before destruction..." (NASB)

Think about it. Every sin you've committed - okay narrow it down to a few - think about the motive behind it. It had something to do with your pride, didn't it? We're such selfish beings, we want this, we want that, we want to do things our way, we can't stand anyone outdoing us, or someone having something we don't have, or worse - having people think badly of us. It's all pride. Pride. Pride. Pride.

A recent incident made me think hard on this issue of pride in my life. With the economy and other factors, we traded in our beloved and mucho decked out Expedition, Little Gracie. I loved her. We all did. She was comfy. She was huge. She had every bell and whistle Ford makes. The seats themselves could heat or cool your bum and move five kazillion ways. Everything was computerized and motorized and at your fingertips with a push of a button. She even had power running boards. (That if you moved too quick, you'd hit your shins on while they were whirring their way up and down.) :)

We were stinkin' spoiled.

But times are changing. We'd done so much traveling in beautiful Little Gracie, that her mileage was getting on up there for a young vehicle. We also needed to see where we could save money. Figuring we could save half (did you read that?) HALF of my gas budget if we downsized, we knew we needed to be good stewards.

The decision itself was easy. The dealership that we bought from made everything even easier and delivered everything to our house. BUT, my pride kicked in at the last minute when I thought of actually giving up my much-beloved vehicle. I thought, "it won't be the same!" (Waah, wah, whine, whine, grumble, complain.)

Thankfully, I have a loving Heavenly Father who graciously hits me over the head with the much needed proverbial 2x4 in times such as these.

WHAM! In that split-second, I knew my pride had gotten the better of me once again.

Who cares if it's not the same? Who cares that I'm not driving down the road in my swanky, oversized, over-optioned vehicle? Good grief, did you read that? It's totally ridiculous! Who cares?

I found myself laughing in the driveway. There are people in the world starving, homeless, orphaned, so how dare I balk in the face of all that - at merely saying goodbye to a stupid (excuse my use of the s-word) vehicle? That stinkin' pride. Always sneakin' up and givin' me grief.

Well, let me just tell you that after that brief moment of slacking (okay, so maybe it was momentS) there hasn't been one doubt in my mind. Material possessions have far too strong of a hold on this ol' world, and I don't want to be hanging on to anything like that. I'll hang on to Jesus. The Author and Finisher of my faith.

As I walked back up my driveway and as Little Gracie drove away, I looked at my kids. We've tried really hard to teach them about stewardship and about the fact that when we leave this earth, we're not taking any of this "stuff" with us. And for another brief instant, I was worried about them. Were they sad to see the vehicle go?

I asked them. And guess what? They laughed. They didn't care. They put their arms around me and said, "it's just a car, Mom. Who cares?"

Out of the mouths of babes. Again, I wondered how the good Lord could use an inadequate vessel like me to rear these two fine teenagers. I shook my head and laughed with them.

And we haven't looked back. As I'm zippin' around town in my little red Nissan, savin' gas money and singin' at the top of my lungs with my kiddos, it hasn't phased me a bit.

But imagine what could've happened had I let pride win that day? Well, you might not be able to imagine, but I can. And it ain't purty. Not at all.

Pride goes before destruction...

A BLOG A DAY KEEPS THE DOC AWAY

If you are a blogger there is one movie you must see – Julie & Julia.

The story is about a woman who is thoroughly bored with life and is on the verge of depression. She hates her job at a call center, her marriage has stagnated and she feels that her life has become static and there is nothing to look forward to.

Her husband introduces her to blogging, motivates her to start a blog, and start blogging about anything she likes. After considering various options, she picks up a cookbook The Art of French Cooking and decides to cook one recipe everyday and blog about it. In fact, one day when she does not post a blog, her angry fans ask her why, and this inspires her to make a commitment to herself and her readers to be regular in posting a blog. Now she has something to look forward to everyday – to cook a recipe and then write and post a blog about her culinary experience every day.

She starts feeling motivated and happy as her blog draws lots of readers, elicits numerous comments and evokes tremendous response, makes her famous, and finally culminates in her becoming a published author. Her days of depression are a long way off – a forgotten thing of the past.

That is the beauty of blogging. It gives you something to look forward to – yes, something to look forward to every day. Once you start enjoying blogging you will not sleep until you have posted something on your blog.

Blogging will make you happy as they say that the key to happiness is to have something to look forward to.

And do remember that you blog is your literary legacy in cyberspace for posterity – you may go away but your blog will remain forever.

Aren’t four things important in life – to live, to love, to learn and to leave a legacy.

Likewise there are four stages to enjoying blogging: anticipation ( looking forward to blogging), savoring the moment (enjoying the sheer pleasure of blogging and the joy of experiencing your creative juices flow), expression (sharing your creativity, interacting with fellow bloggers and friends in the blogosphere to heighten your experience) and reflection ( harking back on your blogging experiences by re-reading your old blogs and comments of your fans for happy nostalgic memories).

Dear reader. Start Blogging. Keep Blogging. Blogging will change your life – for the better. You can take my word for it. You will feel happy as you will have something to look forward to every day.

They say that: An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Maybe they will say: A blog a day keeps the doctor away.

Happy Blogging.

ARE YOU READY FOR A LECTURE?

A renowned Management Guru entered a large lecture hall to deliver a lecture on Motivation to the employees of a large industrial organization.

To his horror he found that the large hall was empty except for a young man seated in the front row.

The Management Guru asked the solitary audience who he was.

“I am a Cook in the Industrial Canteen,” said the young man.

The Management Guru, pondering whether to speak or not, asked the Cook, “You are the only one here. Do you think I should speak or not? Tell me frankly, should I deliver my lecture?”

The Cook said to the Management Guru: “Respected Sir, I am a simple man and do not understand these things.  But, if I came into the Dining Hall and saw only one man sitting there, I would certainly give him food.”

The Management Guru took the Cook’s insightful answer to heart and with full gusto began to deliver his lecture.

He spoke passionately for over two hours delving in great detail on each and every aspect of the theory and practice of Motivation.

Immensely proud after his virtuoso performance, the Management Guru felt highly elated, on top of the world, and wanted his audience to confirm how fantastically illuminating and effective his lecture had been.

So the Management Guru pompously asked the Cook, “How did you like my lecture?”  

The cook answered,"Respected sir,I told you already that I am a simple man and do not understand these things very well.However,if I came into the dining hall and found one man sitting there,I would feed him,but I wouldn't give him the entire food I had prepared in the kitchen".

Well, this simple cook's wisdom is applicable in the context of "FOOD FOR THOUGHT" too, isn't it...? 

So,dear, the next time you speak, or conduct a training programme, remember this story...

And here are some tips on the four aspects of a good lecture:

HOW TO DELIVER A GOOD LECTURE

The lecture is still the most frequently used method of instruction. Even if you are not a teacher, in your everyday work you may be constantly using the medium of speech to convey a message or instruction or for informal training or motivational purposes. How well you put across your ideas depends to a large extent on now well you have mastered the elements of good public speaking.

An important pre-requisite of a good lecture is that it must be carefully prepared to the extent that you have a firm mastery of the topic you are going to discuss and a clear conception in your mind of how you are going to present the subject.

A good lecture has four simple requirements:

1. MESSAGE

The first characteristic of a good lecture is that it must have a message. The lecturer must have something to say and what the lecturer says must be worth saying and worth listening to. You must clearly bring out the importance of the topic and why the audience needs to hear you and unambiguously state your message so that the audience understands what you want to say.

You may have heard Aristotle’s dictum on rhtetoric: "Tell them what you are going to say, say it, and then tell them what you told them."

So, to get your message across, thus is what you must do:

Tell the audience what you are going to tell them

Tell them

Tell them what you have told them.

2. NATURALNESS

The second attribute of a good talk is naturalness. Remember, the audience wants to hear YOU so make it your own lecture, your very own talk – speak in your very own natural style, don’t try to copy someone else.

3. SINCERITY

The third feature of an effective lecture is that it must be sincere. The audience must be convinced that you believe in what you say, so make sure you talk sincerely and clearly demonstrate that you believe in what you are saying. Remember, you cannot fake sincerity so the only way to succeed in giving an impression of sincerity is to be sincere. 

And suppose you do not believe in something or are not fully convinced about a topic…well, why talk about something you do not believe in…? A Teacher must be true to her conscience and not live a lie.

4. ENTHUSIASM

Finally, last but not the least; a good lecture must radiate enthusiasm. An enthusiastic speaker is one who displays great eagerness to have his or her ideas understood, believed and put into practice. You should be passionate about what you are speaking about. If you want your audience to be enthusiastic about listening to you, radiate enthusiasm yourself while speaking.

So, in a nutshell, before you deliver your next lecture, keep these basic four principles in mind (message, naturalness, sincerity, enthusiasm) and you will deliver a great lecture – you can take my word for it.

MY GENERATION

I am part of a lost generation
And I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
Happiness comes from within.
is a lie, and
Money will make me happy.
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.

MOMMA I LOVE U..

Let us take a moment of the time just to pay tribute/show appreciation to the person called MOM though some may not say it openly to their mother. There's no substitute for her. Cherish every single moment. Though at times she may not be the best of friends, may not agree to our thoughts, she is still your mother!!! She will be there for you...to listen to your woes, your bragging, your frustrations, etc. Ask yourself.....have you put aside enough time for her, to listen to her "blues" of working in the kitchen, her tiredness??? Be tactful, loving and still show her due respect though you may have a different view from hers. 

Once gone, only fond memories of the past and also regrets will be left.

When you came into the world, she held you in her arms.
You thanked her by wailing like a banshee.

When you were 1 year old, she fed you and bathed you.
You thanked her by crying all night long.

When you were 2 years old, she taught you to walk.
You thanked her by running away when she called.

When you were 3 years old, she made all your meals with love.
You thanked her by tossing your plate on the floor.

When you were 4 years old, she gave you some crayons.
You thanked her by coloring the dining room table.

When you were 5 years old, she dressed you for the holidays.
You thanked her by plopping into the nearest pile of mud.

When you were 6 years old, she walked you to school.
You thanked her by screaming, "I'M NOT GOING!"

When you were 7 years old, she bought you a baseball.
You thanked her by throwing it through the next-door neighbor's window.

When you were 8 years old, she handed you an ice cream.
You thanked her by dripping it all over your lap.

When you were 9 years old, she paid for piano lessons.
You thanked her by never even bothering to practice.

When you were 10 years old, she drove you all day, from soccer to gymnastics to one birthday party after another.
You thanked her by jumping out of the car and never looking back.

When you were 11 years old, she took you and your friends to the movies.
You thanked her by asking to sit in a different row.

When you were 12 years old, she warned you not to watch certain TV shows.
You thanked her by waiting until she left the house.

Those teenage years

When you were 13, she suggested a haircut that was becoming.
You thanked her by telling her she had no taste.

When you were 14, she paid for a month away at summer camp.
You thanked her by forgetting to write a single letter.

When you were 15, she came home from work, looking for a hug.
You thanked her by having your bedroom door locked.

When you were 16, she taught you how to driver her car.
You thanked her by taking it every chance you could.

When you were 17, she was expecting an important call.
You thanked her by being on the phone all night.

When you were 18, she cried at your high school graduation.
You thanked her by staying out partying until dawn.

Growing old and gray

When you were 19, she paid for your college tuition, drove you to campus, carried your bags.
You thanked her by saying good-bye outside the dorm so you wouldn't be embarrassed in front of your friends.

When you were 20, she asked whether you were seeing anyone.
You thanked her by saying, "It's none of your business."

When you were 21, she suggested certain careers for your future.
You thanked her by saying, "I don't want to be like you."

When you were 22, she hugged you at your college graduation.
You thanked her by asking whether she could pay for a trip to Europe.

When you were 23, she gave you furniture for your first apartment.
You thanked her by telling your friends it was ugly.

When you were 24, she met your fiance and asked about your plans for the future.
You thanked her by glaring and growling, "Muuhh-ther, please!"

When you were 25, she helped to pay for your wedding, and she cried and told you how deeply she loved you.
You thanked her by moving halfway across the country.

When you were 30, she called with some advice on the baby.
You thanked her by telling her, "Things are different now."

When you were 40, she called to remind you of an relative's birthday.
You thanked her by saying you were "really busy right now."

When you were 50, she fell ill and needed you to take care of her.
You thanked her by reading about the burden parents become to their children.

And then, one day, she quietly died. And everything you never did came crashing down like thunder. "Rock me baby, rock me all night long."

"The hand who rocks the cradle...may rock the world".

Reminder from a Sad Story

Seize the day. Never have regrets. And most importantly, stay close to your friends and family, for they have helped make you the person that you are today.

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine if, we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say "I will call on Jim"
"Just to show that I'm thinking of him."

But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram, sir" "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

What is the most gracious act of kindness you have witnessed?

A family from the UK spends Christmas in a refugee camp in Northern Uganda, sleeping in mud huts, using pit latrines and fetching water from a well, to show the victims of the brutal 20-year civil war that they are not forgotten.