Word Power!!

"I'm Proud of You!!" I know I got your attention with those 4 simple yet powerful words. Take a moment and say that sentence, feel how it feels to say that. Now go find a mirror, and look yourself in the eyes and say it to you. Say it again this time with more sincerity - not just in passing. Don't add anything, no comments, no nothing else just say I'm Proud of You.

 See how powerfully this simple sentence affects you when you read it, say it, see it being said?


 OK when was the last time you said it to someone? When was the last time you said it to your children, How about your spouse? My wife said this simple sentence to me yesterday, and her words still echo in my memory.


 If you’re not sure when the last time was . . . it’s been to long.


 I'm in Santa Clara, it's a Friday 5:00am , I'm at Ernie Reyes school on El Camino, I've just finishing my testing for 5th Degree  and am on the deck standing in front of the judges. I'm sweaty, breathing heavy, but composed. Tom Callos says to the 27 UBBT members watching me test "I am so proud of this guy, you don't even know . . . ". That was over 5 years ago and it's still etched in my brain.


 Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I may not ever forget you. – William Arthur Ward


 If you’re using this simple little sentence regularly you are creating ties that bind people together forever. The kind of bond other people don't understand or believe exist.
One of the greatest gifts you can give people is to show appreciation for something they have done. You are thereby giving them support, which often is all they need to keep them on the path they have chosen.


How often have you had someone come up and ask you for encouragement? Most of the time we have no way of knowing when someone needs a little push, a little encouragement, a small sign that they are on the right track. 


People don't ask us they ask God . . . so be his Messager. 


Appreciate everything your associates do for the business. Nothing else can quite substitute for a few well-chosen, well-timed, sincere words of praise. They're absolutely free and worth a fortune. – Sam Walton


We all appreciate a sign that what we are doing is good. Why not give it to others freely? All we have to do is think more about the other person than about ourselves.


Be careful. . .  What I'm talking about is genuine appreciation – not that empty smile accompanied by empty words. Not the quick sentence said in hast with little focus or sincerity. 


I'm talking about “Getting Their Attention”, look right at them, from the deepest part of you. . . I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!, or how about DO YOU KNOW HOW PROUD I AM OF YOU?


Taking Action:
Who have you Praised today? Make it a point to start thinking about who you are going to give praise to today. Plan it out, practice it a little, making sure the timing is right so that you have maximum effect and positive results.


Making this part of your day will bring you rewards beyond your ability to understand.


Hey. . . . I AM SO VERY VERY PROUD OF YOU!!!!


God Bless - Stay Healthy and Strong

What Am I??

It is not made of precious stone, or metal, just thread.  

It is not beautiful and vibrant in color, rather it takes on all color, 

and after a while reminds us of the soil

 found in a prosperous gardens, rich in darkness.  

It is not to be worshipped, but begs the owner practice humility.  It is not

awarded because of time, favor or chance but bestowed after it is earned.  

It is recognized by others who have one because they know the journey, and 

yet it is respected by those who do not have one because of the journey’s reputation.

It is indicative of the challenge that eventually conquers fear, ego, and pride, 

but not mankind; a journey that builds character and discipline, not monuments.  

It is not exclusive but available to whoever wants to make the commitment

and see it through to the finish. It gets better with aging and becomes

threadbare because of continual practice.  

It is an end that is a beginning, and brings to mind service, self respect, 

and a celebration of the greatness mankind is capable of.  If I lose it I will not 

be lost, because it is an outward symbol of an inward quest.

The Cab Ride

I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute,' answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. 

After a long pause the door opened.  A small woman somewhere in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.  All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing,' I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'.

'Oh, you're such a good boy,' she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.'

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.'  I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city.  She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now.'

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.  It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said.

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift.  I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?  What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We are conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

People may not remember exactly what you did or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.

Are You a Bit of a Cracked Pot

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own
imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. 

'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.'

The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?'

'That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.'

'For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. 

Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.'

Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.

You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.

SO, if you happen to be a bit of a cracked pot, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path!

First a Little Story and than a Parable

An old prospector shuffled into the town of El Indio, Texas leading an old tired mule. The man headed straight for the only saloon in town, to clear his parched throat.

 
He walked up to the saloon and tied his old mule to the hitch rail. As he stood there, brushing some of the dust from his face and clothes, a young gunslinger stepped out of the saloon with a gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
 
The young gunslinger looked at the old man and laughed, saying, "Hey old man, have you ever danced?" The old man looked up at the gunslinger and said, "No, I never did dance... never really wanted to.

A crowd had gathered as the gunslinger grinned and said, "Well, you old fool, you're gonna' dance now," and started shooting at the old man's feet. The old prospector, not wanting to get a toe blown off, started hopping around like a flea on a hot skillet.

Everybody was laughing, fit to be tied. When his last bullet had been fired, the young gunslinger, still laughing, holstered his gun and turned around to go back into the saloon.
 
The old man turned to his pack mule, pulled out a double-barreled shotgun, and cocked both hammers. The loud clicks carried clearly through the desert air.

The crowd stopped laughing immediately. The young gunslinger heard the sounds too, and he turned around very slowly. The silence was almost deafening. The crowd watched as the young gunman stared at the old timer and the large gaping holes of those twin barrels.

The barrels of the shotgun never wavered in the old man's hands, as he quietly said, "Son, have you ever kissed a mule's ass?"

The gunslinger swallowed hard and said, "No sir..... but... I've always wanted to."

There are a few lessons for us all here;

·         Never be arrogant.

·         Don't be wasteful.

·         Alcohol makes fools of us all.

·         Don't mess with a senior citizen . . .

We didn't get to be called senior by being STUPID.

Are you just stupid or what?

Boy do I remember kids saying that to me, and one of my favorite was “You are dumber than a door knob”, and I still use “they don’t have the brains God gave a crowbar” How about “well at least you know they’re not wasting any money on aspirin – NO Brains NO Headaches”.

“Confusion is a word we invented for an order which is not understood” – Henry Miller

I think I have been giving confusion a bad rap. For years I have always though that being confused about something was a bad thing, and I must admit that it (confusion) has made me feel stupid at times, mostly because of what it does to my head.

Have you ever had an idea and around it many many little satellites of thoughts, pieces of other ideas and pictures, sometimes lots of pictures?

And, at times they will swirl around in your head with no particular order, a piece of information will come zooming into focus and than drift back and be fuzzy, and than another piece will zoom in and be very clear for a moment, and than drift out of focus.

Until you kind of like have an implosion of the brain where something inside you yells “ENOUGH ALREADY” can we not do this now, and you go onto other more simpler things that are much clearer and organized (like making peanut butter toast) until . . . something triggers that thought or idea in your head again and the whole process starts over.

Not being able to put them into a workable, functional order is what confusion is, and it is hard on our brains to think like that.

There are a lot of things I don’t understand, I don’t know how to do brain surgery, or build a bomb, because I don’t know anything about it. I’m not confused about these things I just don’t have enough information to understand how to do them. And than there are some things I know a little about – like how a car engine works, I can give you a basic explanation, but I would leave out many details – again because I don’t have all the knowledge not because I’m confused about the knowledge.

That means being confused - is an indication that you’re on your way to understanding.

If you are confused about an idea that must mean you have the data, probable lots of data, (otherwise why the confusion) it’s just not organized in an understandable way yet. So what you’re saying is “I know this stuff, but what I don’t understand is the order in which makes this stuff usable and functional”. 

Another thought – doesn’t that put being wrong in a whole new light?

Oh, you can be wrong because you don’t understand, and don’t have the knowledge. But, there is also a wrong that’s part of a process that can only come about because you have some data, it’s just not in the right place or order?  

So that being said “Being Wrong” based on confusion, is a good thing.

Something we should embrace, something to be proud of, because if we continue on with the “Being Wrong” process and apply the knowledge we learned from wrong we have eliminated one approach or path and can move onward to the next and the next – I believe this is exactly how Tom Edison invented the light bulb, isn’t it?

So we need to get our children to scream “YES, THANK GOD I’M AT LEAST WRONG”, instead of the hang dog look and the long face and the negative feelings we have taught them

Confusion + Wrong + Perseverance = Success

Now another thought – So does that mean when someone calls you “Stupid” what their really saying is “Confused” and if they in turn call you “Dumb” what their really saying is that you don’t have enough information to understand?

Kind of takes all the poop out of name calling doesn’t it, because instead of getting mad at them you would probable have to agree and say “yes, as a matter of fact I am stupid about a few things and definitely dumb about others – and, Thank You for noticing the difference”. – Most don’t!!

Stay Health and Strong

Love

The Fern and the Bamboo.....

One day I decided to quit.... I wanted to quit because of the mistakes I kept make, the teasing from other kids, how hard school can be, the endless pressure from my parents, friends and life in general.    

I wanted to quit my life. So I went to the woods to have one last talk with who ever made me.

"Creator", I said. "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?"

His answer surprised me . . .

"Look around", He said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?"

"Yes", I replied.

"When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, just like you, I took very good care of them. I gave them light. I gave them water. The fern quickly grew from the earth. Its brilliant green covered the floor. Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed . . . But the bamboo did not quit.

In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed . . . But the bamboo did not quit".

He said. "In the third year, the fern was a beauty for all to see, and still there was nothing from the bamboo seed . . . But the bamboo would not quit.

In the fourth year, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed . . .

He said. "Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant.

And then . . . just 6 months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall, and not just to be pretty, and green covering the forest floor, but strong enough to build with, the kind of plant that someone could depend on for a life time.

It had spent the five years growing roots, working through the difficulties of being small and young. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive its life.

The bamboo knew it had to work through the challenges life would bring to it, before it could become what it was put on this earth to be.

He said. "The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern, yet, they both make the forest right and beautiful."

He said to me. "Did you know that all this time you have been struggling and persevering you have actually been growing deep, strong, mature roots?” “Never compare yourself or what your challenges are to others . . . The bamboo would not quit and either should you”

"Your time will come," He said. "You’ll rise high, you’ll be strong, and the kind of person others can rely upon for a life time"

 "How high should I rise?" I asked.

"How high will the bamboo rise?" He asked in return.

"As high as it can?" I questioned.

"Yes." He said, "Give me glory by rising as high as you can."

I left the forest and brought back this story. I hope these words can help you see that God will never give up on you........

Never regret a day in your life.

Good days give you Happiness.

Bad days give you Experiences.

Both are essential to life.

Keep going...

Happiness keeps you Sweet,

Trials keep you Strong,

Sorrows keep you Human,

Failures keep you Humble,

Success keeps You Glowing,

But Only God keeps You Going!

Have a great day! The Son is shining!!

God is so big He can cover the whole world with his Love and so small He can curl up inside your heart.

Red Marbles

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas. 

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. 
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.  

"Hello Barry, how are you today?" 

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good." 

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"  

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time." 

"Good. Anything I can help you with?" 

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas." 

"Would you like to take some home?" asked Mr. Miller.  

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with." 

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?" 

"All I got's my prize marble here." 

"Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller. 

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy." 

"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" the store owner asked. 

"Not zackley but almost.." 

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble". Mr. Miller told the boy. 

"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."  

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store."  

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles. 

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. 



They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. 

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.  

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes. 

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.  

"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt." 

"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho " 

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her 
deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles. 

The Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured  by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath..    

IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER, BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT 

TELLS WHAT KIND OF LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED