Saturday, January 19, 2008
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Ringing the Doorbells of Christmas
A cute story.
I just happened to read it.
Just sharing here. Enjoy!
************************************
Ringing the Doorbells of Christmas
The newspaper clipping is yellowed like a parchment scroll. The treasured article is over forty years old, written by a man who lived in the small town where I grew up. In an essay published in a church bulletin, S. L. Morgan, Sr. reminisced about two young visitors:
“One of my best Christmases was ‘sparked’ by the visit of two tiny girls who rang my doorbell two weeks before Christmas and left a plain tiny Christmas card they had made. Actually, that ‘sparked’ Christmas for me. It did something deep and wonderful in me.”
I was one of those little girls.
My best friend, Claudia, and I were already counting the days until Christmas, dreaming of the toys we would find under the tree on Christmas morning. We were eight years old and getting wiser. We knew Santa might not bring everything we wanted. Like our struggling parents, Santa appeared to be on a tight budget that year.
Claudia showed me a magazine ad about selling boxes of Christmas cards to win a shiny, new bicycle and other tantalizing prizes. Inspired by the printed testimonials of enterprising boys and girls who had sold thousands of cards, Claudia and I decided to make construction-paper cards and sell them to our neighbors, hoping to earn money to buy gifts and toys. We spent one Saturday morning laboring with crayons, scissors, and paste, designing the cards that promised to bring us untold riches.
But when my mother learned of our plan to sell the cards, she vetoed it, insisting that we give away the cards instead. (My genteel Southern mother must have been mortified by the prospect of her child peddling homemade Christmas cards door-to-door.) Claudia and I reluctantly agreed to honor my mother’s wishes.
We spent an afternoon ringing doorbells, hand-delivering our cards to neighbors we thought might need some Christmas cheer. We rang Mr. Morgan’s doorbell and, without much fanfare, handed the white-haired gentleman one of our crayoned greetings. The lines in the old man’s face melted into a smile as he read the childish cursive: “Merry Christmas! We love you.”
“Thank you, girls,” he said. “This is the most beautiful Christmas card I’ve ever received.”
We thought he was just being polite, that surely the store-bought cards with gold foil and glitter were prettier than ours. Not until I read his article many years later did I realize how much our small gesture of goodwill had lifted his spirits.
After our visit, Mr. Morgan wrote later, he “began to tell neighbors, grouchy or sad, ‘Listen for the joy bells.’” He urged readers to “fill the mail with millions of postals with personal notes.” Over the years, Mr. Morgan continued the Christmas tradition of sending annual love notes to friends and acquaintances around the world: “I’m sure I’ve held many friendships intact for many years mainly by tiny love notes once a year,” he wrote. “Nothing in life has paid me better.”
Thanks to my mother, I am reaping the dividends of an investment made so many years before. The clipping in my scrapbook reminds me of the joy I felt as Claudia and I rang doorbells on that cold afternoon. I remember the smiling faces of the people we called on and their farewells echoing like chimes on the frozen air as we left them standing in their doorways, pleased and a little bewildered.
Several years ago, I mailed a copy of Mr. Morgan’s article to Claudia. I followed his example by writing a personal note on the card, telling Claudia how much her friendship meant to me as a child, and how often I recall those years with fondness and love.
The reverberations of one afternoon continue to ring true through the years like the doorbells we rang as children on that cold December day.
I just happened to read it.
Just sharing here. Enjoy!
************************************
Ringing the Doorbells of Christmas
By Beth Copeland
The newspaper clipping is yellowed like a parchment scroll. The treasured article is over forty years old, written by a man who lived in the small town where I grew up. In an essay published in a church bulletin, S. L. Morgan, Sr. reminisced about two young visitors:
“One of my best Christmases was ‘sparked’ by the visit of two tiny girls who rang my doorbell two weeks before Christmas and left a plain tiny Christmas card they had made. Actually, that ‘sparked’ Christmas for me. It did something deep and wonderful in me.”
I was one of those little girls.
My best friend, Claudia, and I were already counting the days until Christmas, dreaming of the toys we would find under the tree on Christmas morning. We were eight years old and getting wiser. We knew Santa might not bring everything we wanted. Like our struggling parents, Santa appeared to be on a tight budget that year.
Claudia showed me a magazine ad about selling boxes of Christmas cards to win a shiny, new bicycle and other tantalizing prizes. Inspired by the printed testimonials of enterprising boys and girls who had sold thousands of cards, Claudia and I decided to make construction-paper cards and sell them to our neighbors, hoping to earn money to buy gifts and toys. We spent one Saturday morning laboring with crayons, scissors, and paste, designing the cards that promised to bring us untold riches.
But when my mother learned of our plan to sell the cards, she vetoed it, insisting that we give away the cards instead. (My genteel Southern mother must have been mortified by the prospect of her child peddling homemade Christmas cards door-to-door.) Claudia and I reluctantly agreed to honor my mother’s wishes.
We spent an afternoon ringing doorbells, hand-delivering our cards to neighbors we thought might need some Christmas cheer. We rang Mr. Morgan’s doorbell and, without much fanfare, handed the white-haired gentleman one of our crayoned greetings. The lines in the old man’s face melted into a smile as he read the childish cursive: “Merry Christmas! We love you.”
“Thank you, girls,” he said. “This is the most beautiful Christmas card I’ve ever received.”
We thought he was just being polite, that surely the store-bought cards with gold foil and glitter were prettier than ours. Not until I read his article many years later did I realize how much our small gesture of goodwill had lifted his spirits.
After our visit, Mr. Morgan wrote later, he “began to tell neighbors, grouchy or sad, ‘Listen for the joy bells.’” He urged readers to “fill the mail with millions of postals with personal notes.” Over the years, Mr. Morgan continued the Christmas tradition of sending annual love notes to friends and acquaintances around the world: “I’m sure I’ve held many friendships intact for many years mainly by tiny love notes once a year,” he wrote. “Nothing in life has paid me better.”
Thanks to my mother, I am reaping the dividends of an investment made so many years before. The clipping in my scrapbook reminds me of the joy I felt as Claudia and I rang doorbells on that cold afternoon. I remember the smiling faces of the people we called on and their farewells echoing like chimes on the frozen air as we left them standing in their doorways, pleased and a little bewildered.
Several years ago, I mailed a copy of Mr. Morgan’s article to Claudia. I followed his example by writing a personal note on the card, telling Claudia how much her friendship meant to me as a child, and how often I recall those years with fondness and love.
The reverberations of one afternoon continue to ring true through the years like the doorbells we rang as children on that cold December day.
Friday, January 4, 2008
爱相随
爱相随
別想你忍不住我提醒自己
傷了心有些事也要過去
心很痛痛的不想再做我自己
別回頭情已去緣已盡
很想你也不是因爲失去你
愛了你用盡我全心全力
一生情只爲這一次與你相遇
情難了難再續難再醒
人分飛愛相隨
那怕用一生去追
我又怎麼能追得回
與你相慰我爲你癡爲你累
風雨我都不後悔
我又怎麼有路可退
曾經深情你給了誰
(music)
很想你也不是因爲失去你
愛了你用盡我全心全力
一生情只爲這一次與你相遇
情難了難再續難再醒
人分飛愛相隨
那怕用一生去追
我又怎麼能追得回
與你相慰我爲你癡爲你累
風雨我都不後悔
我又怎麼有路可退
我如何面對
人分飛愛相隨
那怕用一生去追
我又怎麼能追得回
與你相慰我爲你癡爲你累
風雨我都不後悔
我又怎麼有路可退
曾經深情你給了誰
別想你忍不住我提醒自己
傷了心有些事也要過去
心很痛痛的不想再做我自己
別回頭情已去緣已盡
很想你也不是因爲失去你
愛了你用盡我全心全力
一生情只爲這一次與你相遇
情難了難再續難再醒
人分飛愛相隨
那怕用一生去追
我又怎麼能追得回
與你相慰我爲你癡爲你累
風雨我都不後悔
我又怎麼有路可退
曾經深情你給了誰
(music)
很想你也不是因爲失去你
愛了你用盡我全心全力
一生情只爲這一次與你相遇
情難了難再續難再醒
人分飛愛相隨
那怕用一生去追
我又怎麼能追得回
與你相慰我爲你癡爲你累
風雨我都不後悔
我又怎麼有路可退
我如何面對
人分飛愛相隨
那怕用一生去追
我又怎麼能追得回
與你相慰我爲你癡爲你累
風雨我都不後悔
我又怎麼有路可退
曾經深情你給了誰
谁说我不在乎
谁说我不在乎
(http://www.mediafire.com/?04ezm4x9j74)
一封不该来的信 你又何必介意
昨天的你变得好模糊 真叫人捉不住
捉不住的是你的心
不是我太在乎
在她的信中你对她好温柔
你怎么解释清楚
CHO:
为什么 感情变得好脆弱
我不想感情介入 第三者 Oh... No
难道一生的承诺 轻易在误解中错过（轻易在抉择中失落）
让心中难圆的梦伴随你我
猜不透的是你的心
谁说我不在乎
昨天的你 变得好模糊 难道只是为了一封信
昨天的你 变得好模糊 难道只是为了一封信
(http://www.mediafire.com/?04ezm4x9j74)
一封不该来的信 你又何必介意
昨天的你变得好模糊 真叫人捉不住
捉不住的是你的心
不是我太在乎
在她的信中你对她好温柔
你怎么解释清楚
CHO:
为什么 感情变得好脆弱
我不想感情介入 第三者 Oh... No
难道一生的承诺 轻易在误解中错过（轻易在抉择中失落）
让心中难圆的梦伴随你我
猜不透的是你的心
谁说我不在乎
昨天的你 变得好模糊 难道只是为了一封信
昨天的你 变得好模糊 难道只是为了一封信
Cute Advices from Kids
"Never trust a dog to watch your food."
-- Patrick, age 10
"When your dad is mad and asks you, "Do I look stupid?'Don't answer."
-- Hannah, age 9
Never tell your Mom her diet's not working."
-- Michael, age 14
"Don't pull Dad's finger when he tells you to."
-- Emily, age 10
"When your Mom is mad at your dad, don't let her brush your hair."
-- Taylia, age 11
"Never let your three-year old brother in the same room as your schoolassignment."
-- Traci,age 14
"If you want a kitten, start out by asking for a horse."
-- Naomi, age 15
"Felt-tip markers are not good to use as lipstick."
-- Lauren, age 9
"Don't pick on your sister when she's holding a baseball bat."
-- Joel, age 10
"When you get a bad grade in school, show it to your Mom when she's on the phone."
-- Alyesha, age 13
-- Patrick, age 10
"When your dad is mad and asks you, "Do I look stupid?'Don't answer."
-- Hannah, age 9
Never tell your Mom her diet's not working."
-- Michael, age 14
"Don't pull Dad's finger when he tells you to."
-- Emily, age 10
"When your Mom is mad at your dad, don't let her brush your hair."
-- Taylia, age 11
"Never let your three-year old brother in the same room as your schoolassignment."
-- Traci,age 14
"If you want a kitten, start out by asking for a horse."
-- Naomi, age 15
"Felt-tip markers are not good to use as lipstick."
-- Lauren, age 9
"Don't pick on your sister when she's holding a baseball bat."
-- Joel, age 10
"When you get a bad grade in school, show it to your Mom when she's on the phone."
-- Alyesha, age 13
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Friendship Forever!
Friendship Forever!
Two inseparable friends, Sam and Jason, met with an accident on their way to Boston City. The following morning, Jason woke up blind and Sam was still unconscious. Dr. Berkeley was standing at his bedside looking at his health chart and medications with a thoughtful expression on his face. When he saw Sam awake, he beamed at him and asked." How are you feeling today Sam?" Sam tried to put up a brave face and smiled back saying, "absolutely wonderful Doctor. I am very grateful for all that you have done for me. "Dr Berkeley was moved at Sam's deed. All that he could say was, "You are a very brave man Sam and God will make it up to you in one way or another". While he was moving on to the next patient, Sam called back at him almost pleading, "promise me you won't tell Jason anything".
"You know I won't do that. Trust me." and walked away.
"Thank you " whispered Sam. He smiled and looked up in prayer " I hope I live up to your ideas...please give me the strength to be able to go through this..Amen"
Months later when Jason had recuperated considerably, he stopped hanging around with Sam. He felt discouraged and embarrassed to spend time with a disabled person like Sam.
Sam was lonely and disheartened ,since he didn't have any body else other than Jason to count on. Things went from bad to worse. And one day Sam died in despair. When Jason was called on his burial, he found a letter waiting for him. Dr Berkeley gave it to him with an expressionless face and said" This is for you Jason. Sam had asked me to give it to you when he was gone".
In the letter he had said: " Dear Jason, I have kept my promise in the end to lend you my eyes if anything had happened to them. Now there is nothing more that I can ask from God, than the fact ,that will see the world through my eyes. You will always be my best friend........Sam".
When he had finished reading Dr. Berkeley said " I had promised Sam to keep his sacrifice he made a secret from you. But now I wish I didn't stick it Because I don't think It was worthy it" .
All that was left for Jason while he stood there was tears of regret and memories of Sam for the rest of his life .
Lesson of the story:
No matter what If we make a friend, we should stick by him till the end. Life is meaningless without a friend.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
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