rudys short stories

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A Box Full Of Kisses By Rudy J Reid The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy." The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness. Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. than this. The Man with Four Wives. By Rudy J Reid There was a rich merchant who had 4 wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best.

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Page 1: rudys short stories

A Box Full Of Kisses

By Rudy J Reid

The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy."

The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.

Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. than this.

The Man with Four Wives.

By Rudy J Reid

There was a rich merchant who had 4 wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best.

He also loved the 3rd wife very much. He's very proud of her and always wanted to show off her to his friends. However, the merchant is always in great fear that she might run away with some other men.

He too, loved his 2nd wife. She is a very considerate person, always patient and in fact is the merchant's confidante. Whenever the merchant faced some problems, he always turned to his 2nd wife and she would always help him out and tide him through difficult times.

Now, the merchant's 1st wife is a very loyal partner and has made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and business as well as taking care of the household. However, the merchant did not love the first wife and although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her.

One day, the merchant fell ill. Before long, he knew that he was going to die soon. He thought of his luxurious life and told himself, "Now I have 4 wives with me. But when I die, I'll be alone. How lonely I'll be!"

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Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I loved you most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No way!" replied the 4th wife and she walked away without another word.

The answer cut like a sharp knife right into the merchant's heart. The sad merchant then asked the 3rd wife, "I have loved you so much for all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No!" replied the 3rd wife. "Life is so good over here! I'm going to remarry when you die!" The merchant's heart sank and turned cold.

He then asked the 2nd wife, "I always turned to you for help and you've always helped me out. Now I need your help again. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!" replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only send you to your grave." The answer came like a bolt of thunder and the merchant was devastated.

Then a voice called out : "I'll leave with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The merchant looked up and there was his first wife. She was so skinny, almost like she suffered from malnutrition. Greatly grieved, the merchant said, "I should have taken much better care of you while I could have !"

Actually, we all have 4 wives in our lives

a. The 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it'll leave us when we die.

b. Our 3rd wife ? Our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, they all go to others.

c. The 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how close they had been there for us when we're alive, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.

d. The 1st wife is in fact our soul, often neglected in our pursuit of material, wealth and sensual pleasure.

Guess what? It is actually the only thing that follows us wherever we go. Perhaps it's a good idea to cultivate and strengthen it now rather than to wait until we're on our deathbed to lament.

The Echo

By Rudy J Reid

"A son and his father were walking on the mountains.Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams: "AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"To his surprise, he hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain:

"AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"Curious, he yells: "Who are you?"

He receives the answer: "Who are you?"And then he screams to the mountain: "I admire you!"

The voice answers: "I admire you!"Angered at the response, he screams: "Coward!"

He receives the answer: "Coward!"He looks to his father and asks: "What's going on?"

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The father smiles and says: "My son, pay attention."Again the man screams: "You are a champion!"

The voice answers: "You are a champion!"The boy is surprised, but does not understand.

Then the father explains: "People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE.It gives you back everything you say or do.Our life is simply a reflection of our actions.

If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart.If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence.

This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life;Life will give you back everything you have given to it."

YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT'S A REFLECTION OF YOU!"

The Rose.

By Rudy J Reid

A certain man planted a rose and watered it faithfully and before it blossomed, he examined it.

He saw the bud that would soon blossom, but noticed thorns upon the stem and he thought, "How can any beautiful flower come from a plant burdened with so many sharp thorns? Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and just before it was ready to bloom... it died.

So it is with many people. Within every soul there is a rose. The God-like qualities planted in us at birth, grow amid the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns, the defects.

We despair, thinking that nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it dies. We never realize our potential.

Some people do not see the rose within themselves; someone else must show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns of another, and find the rose within them.

This is one of the characteristic of love... to look at a person, know their true faults and accepting that person into your life... all the while recognizing the nobility in their soul. Help others to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the "rose" within themselves, they will conquer their thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over.

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The Pencil.

By Rudy J Reid

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box.

"There are 5 things you need to know," he told the pencil, "Before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be."

"One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in someone’s hand."

"Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you'll need it to become a better pencil."

"Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make."

"Four: The most important part of you will always be what's inside."

"And Five: On every surface you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write."

The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.

Now replacing the place of the pencil with you.  Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be.

One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in God's hand. And allow other human beings to access you for the many gifts you possess.

Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in life, but you'll need it to become a stronger person.

Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.

Four: The most important part of you will always be what's on the inside.

And Five: On every surface you walk through, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue to do your duties.

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Allow this parable on the pencil to encourage you to know that you are a special person and only you can fulfil the purpose to which you were born to accomplish.

Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant and cannot make a change.

Sand and Stone

By Rudy J Reid

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE."

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one, who had been slapped, got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After the friend recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE."

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"

The other friend replied: "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND, AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE.

Love And Time

By Rudy J Reid

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love.

Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment.

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When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.

Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?"Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you."

Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!""I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered.

Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you.""Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!"

Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her.

Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much was owed the elder,

Love asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who Helped me?""It was Time," Knowledge answered."Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?"Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."

Valentine RosesA touching story.......

By Rudy J Reid

 

Red roses were her favourites, her name was also Rose. And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.

The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door. The card said, "Be my Valentine," like all the years before.

 

Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say, "I love you even more this year, than last year on this day."

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"My love for you will always grow, with every passing year." She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.

 

She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day. Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away.

He always liked to do things early, way before the time. Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.

 

She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase. Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face. She would sit for hours, in her husband's favourite chair. While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.

 

A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate. With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate.

Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before, The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door

She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock. Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop.

The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain, Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?

 

"I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago," The owner said, "I knew you'd call, and you would want to know."

"The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance." "Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance."

"There is a standing order, that I have on file down here, And he has paid, well in advance, you'll get them every year.

There also is another thing, that I think you should know, He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago."

 

"Then, should ever, I find out that he's no longer here, That's the card...that should be sent, to you the following year." She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing

hard. Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.

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Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note. Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote... "Hello my love, I know it's been a year since I've been gone,

I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to overcome."

 

"I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real. For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.

The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life. I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife."

"You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need. I know it's only been a year, but please try not to grieve. I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears.

That is why the roses will be sent to you for years."

"When you get these roses, think of all the happiness, That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.

I have always loved you and I know I always will. But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still."

 

"Please...try to find happiness, while living out your days. I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.

The roses will come every year, and they will only stop, When your door's not answered, when the florist stops to knock."

"He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out. But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,

To take the roses to the place, where I've instructed him, And place the roses where we are, together once again."

Life Still Has A Meaning

By Rudy J Reid

If there is a future there is time for mending-Time to see your troubles coming to an ending.

Life is never hopeless however great your sorrow-If you're looking forward to a new tomorrow.

If there is time for wishing then there is time for hoping-When through doubt and darkness you are blindly groping.

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Though the heart be heavy and hurt you may be feeling-If there is time for praying there is time for healing.

So if through your window there is a new day breaking-Thank God for the promise, though mind and soul be aching,

If with harvest over there is grain enough for gleaning-There is a new tomorrow and life still has meaning.

A life story.....

By Rudy J Reid...

A young man was getting ready to graduate college. For      many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's      showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told

him that was all he wanted.

     As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited      signs that his father had purchased the car. Finally, on the

morning  of his graduation his father called him into his private   study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine

son, and  told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautiful   wrapped gift box.

     Curious, but somewhat disappointed the young man      opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible. Angrily, he raised his voice at his father and said, "With all your money you give  me  a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the holy

book.

     Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business.

     He had a beautiful home and wonderful family, but realized his      father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go to him. He had   not seen him since that graduation day. Before he could make      arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had

     passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He needed   to come home immediately and take care things.

When he arrived at  his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart.

     He began to search his father's important papers and      saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago. With tears,  he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. As he

read those   words, a car key dropped from an envelope taped behind the Bible.

It  had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports  car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation,

     and the words...PAID IN FULL.

     How many times do we miss God's blessings because they are not      packaged as we expected?

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 The Two men

By Rudy J Reid

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man  was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and   families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military  service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the  man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where  his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and  colour of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while  children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every colour of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite  detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.  Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive  words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see  anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt  ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He   began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that  window - and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window  began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man   watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking  stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no  words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he  could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his   first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

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Moral of the story:

The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.

FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE

By Rudy J Reid

o Love starts with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a tear. o Don't cry over anyone who won't cry over you.

o Good friends are hard to find, harder to leave, and impossible to forget.

o You can only go as far as you push.

o Actions speak louder than words.

o The hardest thing to do is watch the one you love, love somebody else.

o Don't let the past hold you back; you're missing the good stuff.

o Life's short. If you don't look around once in a while, you might miss it.

o A best friend is like a four leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.

o If you think that the world means nothing, think again. You might mean the world to someone else. 

o When it hurts to look back, and you're scared to look ahead, you can look beside you and your best friend will be there

o True friendship never ends.

o Friends are forever.

o Good friends are like stars....You don't always see them, but you know they are always there.

o Don't frown. You never know who is falling in love with your smile.

o What do you do when the only person who can make you stop crying is the person who made you cry?

o NOBODY IS PERFECT UNTIL YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH THEM. (Isn't that the truth?)

o Everything is okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end.

Most people walk in and out of your life. But only True friends leave footprints in your heart.

Send this on to everyone special in your life, even the people who really make you mad sometimes. Whether we realize it or not, everyone we know is very special to us.

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When we look back on our younger years, we will  remember the people who went to school with us, the people who made us laugh, the people who hung out with us when nobody else would, and the  people who made our lives much better simply by being a part of it.

There may be somebody who is thinking about you RIGHT NOW and wishing that you were around. That's the wonderful thing about friendship-you always feel loved and cared about.

The most important thing to remember is... Always appreciate the friends that you have.

A fight may come and go very easily, but a friendship could last forever. 

For every second spent in anger, a minute of happiness is wasted.  So send this to your friends and let them know that you care.

Travelling Angels by Rudy J Reid

Two travelling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a space in the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole on the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied..."Things aren't always what they seem".

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest.

When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been the their sole income, lay dead in the field. The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel "how could you have let this happen!? The first man had everything, yet you helped him," she accused. "The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let their cow die."

"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied. "When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it. Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave her the cow instead. Things aren't what they seem." Sometimes that's exactly what happens when things don't turn out the way they should.

If you have faith, you just need to trust that every outcome is always to your advantage. You might not know it until sometime later.

Think about this: Should you find it hard to get to sleep tonight; just remember the homeless family who has no bed to lie in.

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Should you find yourself stuck in traffic; don't despair. There are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.

If you have a bad day at work; think of man who have been out of work for the last three months.

Should you despair over a relationship gone bad; Think of the person who has never known what it is like to love and be loved in return.

Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance; Think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.

Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror; Think of the cancer patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine. Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all about, asking "what is my purpose"; Be thankful. There are those who didn't live long enough to get the opportunity.

Should you find yourself the victim of other peoples bitterness, ignorance, smallness or insecurities; Remember things could be worse. You could be them!!

Should you decide to send this to a friend; You might brighten someone's day!

A lot to Give. By Rudy J Reid

Who made this boy believe that he couldn't stand the testthat as a human being he was different from the restA father who told him "Son you've come out all wrong"Never would he fit in, nor would he belongWhy does the little girl live all alone with her fearsthat daddy's next punch will leave her with more than tears"I'm sorry daddy, please, it's probably all my fault"She really wants to say "I don't need this bloody assault"When did the little boy stop seeking physical affectionand shy away from any that was aimed in his directionWho was the bastard who stole away his cheeky little grinfor innocence lost the pervert should pay the ultimate price for his sinHow come the little girl believes all the crap that she is toldday after day on verbal abuse she has been sold"Not good enough, too fat, too thin, you just don't fit in"chanted over and over by children standing around her in a ringAll these children aren't the first, sadly they are not the lastThey will bear forever the scars of a hated pastCan anyone help them change the beliefs they have been givenor to the needle, weed and booze to escape they will be drivenWho out there is willing to estimate how much it is they've lostfor with pain, fear, terror and tears they have paid the cost

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Can anybody out there show them they are worthy to livefor to this world they really have quite a lot to give.

The bank? By Rudy J Reid

Imagine there is a bank that credits your account each morning with 86,400. It carries over no balance from day to day. Every evening deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course!!!!

Each of us has such a bank. Its name is TIME.Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds.Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose.It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft.Each day it opens a new account for you.Each night it burns the remains of the day.If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours.There is no going back.There is no drawing against the "tomorrow".You must live in the present on today's deposits.Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success!

The clock is running.Make the most of today.To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade.To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a pre-mature baby.

To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train.To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident.To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won a silver medal in the Olympics.

Treasure every moment that you have! And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time.

And remember that time waits for no one.Yesterday is historyTomorrow is mysteryToday is a giftThat's why it's called the present!!

It's National Friendship Week

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Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed.They make you smile and encourage you to succeed.They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.Show your friends how much you care.....

The Flower By Rudy J Reid

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to readBeneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.He stood right before me with his head tilted downAnd said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my sideAnd placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.Not vibrant of colours: orange, yellow or red.But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,He held it mid-air without reason or plan.It was then that I noticed for the very first timeThat weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sunAs I thanked him for picking the very best one."You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play,Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to seeA self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

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Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see

The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.And for all of those times I myself had been blind,I vowed to see the beauty in life,And appreciate every second that's mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my noseAnd breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful roseAnd smiled as I watched that young boy, Another weed in his hand,About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

The Winner By Rudy J Reid

I was watching some little kids play soccer. These kids were only five or six years old, but they were playing a real game - - a serious game -- two teams, complete with coaches, uniforms, and parents. I didn't know any of them, so I was able to enjoy the game without the distraction of being anxious about winning or losing - I wished the parents and coaches could have done the same.

The teams were pretty evenly matched. I will just call them Team One and Team Two. Nobody scored in the first period. The kids were hilarious. They were clumsy and terribly inefficient. They fell over their own feet, they stumbled over the ball, they kicked at the ball and missed it but they didn't seem to care. They were having fun.

In the second quarter, the Team One coach pulled out what must have been his first team and put in the scrubs, except for his best player who now guarded the goal.

The game took a dramatic turn. I guess winning is important even when you're five years old -- because the Team Two coach left his best players in, and the Team One scrubs were no match for them. Team Two swarmed around the little guy who was now the Team One goalie. He was an outstanding athlete, but he was no match for three or four who were also very good. Team Two began to score. The lone goalie gave it everything he had, recklessly throwing his body in front of incoming balls, trying valiantly to stop them.

Team Two scored two goals in quick succession. It infuriated the young boy. He became a raging maniac -- shouting, running, diving. With all the stamina he could muster, he covered the boy who now had the ball, but that boy kicked it to another boy twenty feet away, and by the time he repositioned himself, it was too late -- they scored a third goal.

I soon learned who the goalie's parents were. They were nice, decent-looking people. I could tell that his dad had just come from the office -- he still had his suit and tie on. They yelled encouragement to their son. I became totally absorbed, watching the boy on the field and his parents on the sidelines. After the third goal, the little kid changed. He could see it was no use; he couldn't stop them.

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He didn't quit, but he became quietly desperate futility was written all over him. His father changed too. He had been urging his son to try harder - yelling advice and encouragement. But then he changed. He became anxious. He tried to say that it was okay - to hang in there. He grieved for the pain his son was feeling.

After the fourth goal, I knew what was going to happen. I've seen it before. The little boy needed help so badly, and there was no help to be had. He retrieved the ball from the net and handed to the referee - and then he cried.

He just stood there while huge tears rolled down both cheeks. He went to his knees and put his fists to his eyes - and he cried the tears of the helpless and broken-hearted.

When the boy went to his knees, I saw the father start onto the field. His wife clutched his arm and said, "Jim, don't. You'll embarrass him." But he tore loose from her and ran onto the field. He wasn't supposed to - the game was still in progress. Suit, tie, dress shoes, and all - he charged onto the field, and he picked up his son so everybody would know that this was his boy, and he hugged him and held him and cried with him. I've never been so proud of a man in my life.

He carried him off the field, and when he got close to the sidelines I heard him say, "Scotty, I'm so proud of you. You were great out there. I want everybody to know that you are my son."

"Daddy," the boy sobbed, "I couldn't stop them. I tried, Daddy, I tried and tried, and they scored on me."

"Scotty, it doesn't matter how many times they scored on you. You're my son, and I'm proud of you. I want you to go back out there and finish the game. I know you want to quit, but you can't. And, son, you're going to get scored on again, but it doesn't matter. Go on, now."

It made a difference - I could tell it did.

When you're all alone, and you're getting scored on - and you can't stop them - it means a lot to know that it doesn't matter to those who love you. The little guy ran back on to the field - and they scored two more times - but it was okay.

I get scored on every day. I try so hard. I recklessly throw my body in every direction. I fume and rage. I struggle with temptation and sin with every ounce of my being - and Satan laughs. And he scores again, and the tears come, and I go to my knees - sinful, convicted, helpless.

And my Father - my Father rushes right out on the field - right in front of the whole crowd - the whole jeering, laughing world - and he picks me up, and he hugs me and he says, "John, I'm so proud of you. You were great out there. I want everybody to know that you are my son, and because I control the outcome of this game, I declare you -- The Winner."

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The Temper By Rudy J Reid

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily, gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said "you have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one."

You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there.

Make sure you control your temper the next time you are tempted to say something you will regret later.

Room At The Table By Rudy J Reid

Have you ever noticed that dining room tables seat six, eight, or twelve-not seven, nine, or thirteen? I've been single all my life, usually not thinking much of it. But on holidays even the place-settings conspire against me, rendering a silent rebuke against my single status.

You can endure holiday dinners two ways if you're single: 1) Bring someone you don't particularly care for; 2) Hear the awful words "pull up an extra seat," a euphemism for either a collapsible chair or one that is too high or too low for the table. Either strategy leaves you uncomfortable.

At Thanksgiving two years ago, while my calves cramped from straddling the leg of my brother's dining room table, Aunt Nell took the opportunity to ask for details about my love life, which was seriously lacking at the time. The event was excruciating.

Though I enjoy singlehood in the main, there have been times when I've worked myself into a mad frenzy looking for someone to fill a void I thought I couldn't satisfy on my own. Someone, anyone with a pulse would do. Over the years, I dated quite a few guys I liked-I was even engaged once but "till death do we part" seemed a very long time. I always ended up alone again.

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So holidays, especially with the Aunt Knells of the family, can weaken my confidence, leaving me a little bereft. One day, noting my frustration surrounding the holidays, a friend of mine suggested we try something different on the next such occasion.

"How `bout you and I go down to a homeless shelter and help out? Then maybe we'll be grateful for what we have," she proposed. I had a thousand reasons why this wasn't a good idea, but my friend persisted. The next Christmas I found myself in an old downtown warehouse, doling out food. Never in my life had I seen so many turkeys and rows of pumpkin pies. Decorations donated by a nearby grocery store created a festive atmosphere that uplifted even my reluctant spirit. When everyone was fed, I took a tray and filled a plate with the bountiful harvest. After a few bites, I knew what everyone was carrying on about; the food was really good.

My dinner companions were easy company. Nobody asked me why I didn't have a date or when I was going to settle down. People just seemed grateful for a place to sit and enjoy a special dinner. To my surprise, I found I had much in common with my fellow diners. They were people just like me.

My experience that Christmas brought me back to the shelter the following year. I enjoyed helping others so much that I began seeking more opportunities to serve. I started volunteering for the Literacy Foundation once a week. I figured I could sit in front of the TV, or I could use those evening hours to help others learn to read.

Caring for others has abundantly filled the void in my life that I had sometimes interpreted as a missing mate. When I stopped trying to so hard to fit in, I realized I was single for a reason and found my own special purpose.

There is room at the table for a party of one. And sometimes "just one" is the perfect fit.

Water of Life.

By Rudy J Reid

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt several farmers before it was through. Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn't see some rain soon... we would lose everything.

It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes. I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort... trying to be as still as possible. Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I

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went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed.

Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods. This activity went on for over an hour: walking carefully to the woods, then running back to the house. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen... as he was obviously doing something important and didn't need his Mommy checking-up on him).

He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill the water he held in them... maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands. I sneaked closer as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much greater purpose. As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site.

Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him... he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hand.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle of water began to creep out. He knelt there, letting each drip of water slowly fill up his makeshift "cup," as the sun beat down on his little back. It was just last week he was punished for playing with the garden hose, and received a stern lecture on the importance of not wasting water. So, I'm sure that is why he didn't ask me to help him.

It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands. When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I'm not wasting," was all he said. As he began his walk, I joined him... with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away... it was his job.

I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save a life. As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops... and more drops... and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, Himself, was weeping with pride.

Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles don't really happen. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can't argue with that... I'm not even going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm... just like the actions of one little boy saved a life.

Epilogue (The editor): I have received this same story from other sources, which do not include the "to honour the memory of my beautiful Billy." However, out of respect to the parent(s) that lost a child, I'm including it as an addendum; along with my sincere heartfelt sympathy.

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Addendum -- "This story is to honour the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken from me much too soon.... but not before he showed me the true face of God; in a little sunburned body."

Success By Rudy J Reid

Success is speaking words of praise, in cheering other people's ways. In doing just the best you can, with every task and every plan. It's silence when your speech would hurt, Politeness when your neighbour's curt. Its deafness when the scandal flows, and sympathy with others' woes. It's loyalty when duty calls, its courage when disaster falls. Its patience when the hours are long, it’s found in laughter and in song. It's in the silent time of prayer, in happiness and in despair. In all of life and nothing less, we find the thing we call success.

A World of Smile By Rudy J Reid

About ten years ago when I was an undergraduate in college, I was working as an intern at my University's Museum of Natural History. One day while working at the cash register in the gift shop, I saw an elderly couple come in with a little girl in a wheelchair.

As I looked closer at this girl, I saw that she was kind of perched on her chair. I then realized she had no arms or legs, just a head, neck and torso. She was wearing a little white dress with red polka dots.

As the couple wheeled her up to me I was looking down at the register. I turned my head toward the girl and gave her a wink. As I took the money from her grandparents, I looked back at the girl, who was giving me the cutest, largest smile I have ever seen. All of a sudden her handicap was gone and all I saw was this beautiful girl, whose smile just melted me and almost instantly gave me a completely new sense of what life is all about. She took me from a poor, unhappy college student and brought me into her world; a world of smiles, love and warmth.

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That was ten years ago. I'm a successful business person now and whenever I get down and think about the troubles of the world, I think about that little girl and the remarkable lesson about life that she taught me.

Big Difference. By Rudy J Reid

The Boss drives his men, The Leader inspires them..The Boss depends on authority; The Leader depends on goodwill...The Boss evokes fear, The Leader radiates love...The Boss says "I", The Leader says "We"..The Boss shows who is wrong; The Leader shows what is wrong.The Boss knows how it is done; The Leader knows how to do it.The Boss demands respect, The Leader commands respect.

DEPRESSION.

By Rudy J Reid

Maybe if my leg was broken or I was diagnosed with a life threatening illness they would have cared more. It seems that mental illness does not have a place in this world. There are already too many 'freaks' suffering from it, one in five Australians in fact. Sure the physical symptoms of depression may not kill me, but the emotional ones may. I know that I can be stronger and fight my depression, I want an education and a career, I never wanted to be a dropout. Finding the motivation to brush my teeth is a struggle, so you can imagine the pain I feel when people called me a faker. The inner sadness that engulfs me is phenomenal. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. Yet I would like to see some of the people who ridiculed me go through a fraction of what I have been through for a second and see how they would fight it.

I like everybody else, has had problems in my life. My parents separating when I was young. I was followed home from school when day and bashed because some girls didn't like me. I've suffered the usual bitchiness and name calling. The saying 'sticks and stones may break my bone but words will never hurt me' is so wrong. Being called a whore or slut while still being a virgin has left emotional scars that feel like they will be with me forever. A simple threat sends me into a hysterical state. While physical scars heal, emotional ones are there to taunt you for life. Some people I have considered my 'best friends' have betrayed me. Many haven't called the whole time I have been sick. I'm forgotten now.

I'm extremely lucky to have a caring and understanding family as well as a boyfriend who would do anything to see me happy. I love them all so much. Unfortunately you hurt the ones you love most. Your pain becomes directed at them and they cope the blame for all the shit the world has dealt out to you. I never wanted to hurt them. I hope they can forgive me.

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This was written during the darkest times of my depression. Three suicide attempts followed and my family helped me through them. I am now a happy 17 year old doing my HSC. The time of depression seem like a bad nightmare. I still can't believe what I went through and survived. There is always hope, for anyone. There is always someone there to listen.

All the Time in the World . . . By Rudy J Reid

While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground. "That's my son over there," she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.

"He's a fine looking boy," the man said. "That's my son on the swing in the blue sweater." Then, looking at his watch, he called to his son. "What do you say we go, Todd?"

Todd pleaded, "Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes." The man nodded and Todd continued to swing to his heart's content.

Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his son. "Time to go now?"

Again Todd pleaded, "Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes." The man smiled and said, "Okay."

"My, you certainly are a patient father," the woman responded.

The man smiled and then said, "My older son Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I'd give anything for just five more minutes with him. I've vowed not to make the same mistake with Todd.

"He thinks he has five more minutes to swing. The truth is . . . I get five more minutes to watch him play."

Flowers on the Bus. By Rudy J Reid

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We were a very motley crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 33 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb, we sat drowsily with our collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn bunch.

One of the passengers was a small grey man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him.

Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent.

The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice: "And a very good morning to you all!" Some of us looked up, amazed, and murmured "Good morning," in reply.

The following weeks we were more alert. Our friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to us every day and we gradually began to nod and talk to each other.

One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked: "Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie?" We never got to know if his name really was "Charlie", but he nodded shyly and said yes.

The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat.

Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet, gently nudged him and said shyly: "Here." Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper.

The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasn't waiting at his usual stop. When he wasn't there the next day and the day after that, we started wondering if he was sick or -- hopefully -- on holiday somewhere.

When we came nearer to the centre for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. We all held our breaths when she went to the door.

Yes, the staff said, they knew who we were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadn't been coming to the centre that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent we were the rest of the way to work.

The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more grey, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrunk again. Inside the bus was a silence akin to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands.

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Life Has A Meaning

By Rudy J Reid

If there is a future there is time for mending- Time to see your troubles coming to an ending.

Life is never hopeless however great your sorrow-If you're looking forward to a new tomorrow.

If there is time for wishing then there is time for hoping-When through doubt and darkness you are blindly groping.

Though the heart be heavy and hurt you may be feeling-If there is time for praying there is time for healing.

So if through your window there is a new day breaking-Thank God for the promise, though mind and soul be aching,

If with harvest over there is grain enough for gleaning-There is a new tomorrow and life still has meaning.

True Love

By Rudy J Reid

 

There was this guy who believed very much in true love and decided to take his time to wait for his right girl to appear. He believed that there would definitely be someone special out there for him, but none came.

Every year at Christmas, his ex-girlfriend would return from Vancouver to look him up. He was aware that she still held some hope of re-kindling the past romance with him. He did not wish to mislead her in any way. So he would always get one of his girl friend’s to pose as his steady whenever she came back. That went on for several years and each year, the guy would get a different girl to pose as his romantic interest. So whenever the ex-girlfriend came to visit him, she would be led into believing that it was all over between her and the guy. The girl took all those rather well, often trying to casually tease him about his different girlfriends, or so, as it seemed! In fact, the girl often wept in secret whenever she saw him with another girl, but she was too proud to admit it. Still, every Christmas, she returned, hoping to re-kindle some form of romance. But each time, she returned to Vancouver feeling disappointed.

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Finally she decided that she could not play that game any longer. Therefore, she confronted him and professed that after all those years, he was still the only man that she had ever loved. Although the guy knew of her feelings for him, he was still taken back and have never expected her to react that way. He always thought that she would slowly forget about him over time and come to terms that it was all over between them. Although he was touched by her undying love for him and wanted so much to accept her again, he remembered why he rejected her in the first place-she was not the one he wanted. So he hardened his heart and turned her down cruelly. Since then, three years have passed and the girl never return anymore. They never even wrote to each other. The guy went on with his life..... still searching for the one but somehow deep inside him, he missed the girl.

On the Christmas of 1995, he went to his friend's party alone. "Hey, how come all alone this year? Where are all your girlfriends? What happened to that Vancouver babe who joins you every Christmas?", asked one of his friend. He felt warm and comforted by his friend's queries about her, still he just surged on.Then, he came upon one of his many girlfriends whom he once requested to pose as his steady. He wanted so much to ignore her ..... not that he was impolite, but because at that moment, he just didn't feel comfortable with those girlfriends anymore. It was almost like he was being judged by them. The girl saw him and shouted across the floor for him. Unable to avoid her, he went up to acknowledge her.

"Hi......how are you? Enjoying the party?" the girl asked.

"Sure.....yeah!", he replied.She was slightly tipsy..... must be from the whiskey on her hand. She continued,"Why...? Don't you need someone to pose as your girlfriend this year?" Then he answered, "No, there is no need for that anymore......"Before he can continue, he was interrupted, "Oh yes! Must have found a girlfriend! You haven't been searching for one for the past years, right?" The man looked up, as if he has struck gold, his face beamed and looked directly at the drunken girl. He replied, "Yes......you are right! I haven't been looking for anyone for the past years."With that, the man darted across the floor and out the door, leaving the lady in much bewilderment. He finally realized that he has already found his dream girl, and she was.....the Vancouver girl all along! The drunken lady has said something that awoken him.

All along he has found his girl. That was why he did not bother to look further when he realized she was not coming back. It was not any specific girl he was seeking! It was perfection that he wanted, and yes.....perfection!!Relationship is something both parties should work on. Realizing that he had let away someone so important in his life, he decided to call her immediately. His whole mind was flooded with fear. He was afraid that she might have found someone new or no longer had the same feelings anymore..... For once, he felt the fear of losing someone.

As it was Christmas eve, the line was quite hard to get through, especially an overseas call. He tried again and again, never giving up. Finally, he got through......precisely at 1200 midnight. He confessed his love for her and the girl was moved to tears. It seemed that she never got over him! Even after so long, she was still waiting for him, never giving up.

He was so excited to meet her and to begin his new chapter of their lives. He decided to fly to Vancouver to join her. It was the happiest time of their lives! But their happy time was short-

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lived. Two days before he was supposed to fly to Vancouver, he received a call from her father. She had a head-on car collision with a drunken driver. She passed away after 6 hours in a coma.The guy was devastated, as it was a complete loss. Why did fate played such cruel games with him? He cursed the heaven for taking her away from him, denying even one last look at her! How cruel he cursed! How he damned the Gods...!! How he hated himself....for taking so long to realize his mistake!! That was in 1996.

The moral of this story is :Treasure what you have...Time is too slow for those who wait;Too swift for those who fear;Too long for those who grief;Too short for those who rejoice;But for those who love...Time is Eternity.

For all you out there with someone special in your heart, cherish that person, cherish every moment that you spend together that special someone, for in life, anything can happen anytime. You may painfully regret, only to realise that it is too late.

Follow Your Heart

By Rudy J Reid 

James loved Lisa with all his heart. But he never told a Single soul. Lisa secretly loved him too. But she thought she would never have a chance with him. James asked his friends what they think of her and his friends thought she was gay. They didn't like her at all. So James just went along with them. They all made fun of her and made her feel really bad. James was so upset.

One day they followed her home from school making fun of her the whole way home. Once she got inside her house she dropped to the floor cringe. She had a crush on James since 3rd grade. She didn't know what to do. When James got home he felt real bad about what he had done. So he decided to go to Lisa's house to tell her he was sorry and that he really loves her.

When he got there he knocked on the door no one answered.

The door was open so he walked in. He walked into the living room and found Lisa lying dead on the floor. She had slit her wrists. James was so upset . He knew it was his fault she killed herself. And now he could never tell her how he really felt.

The lesson of this story is: Don't wait to until the last minute to tell someone how you really feel. Because it just might be too late. And don't always go by what your friends say, follow your heart.

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 Lost Love

By Rudy J Reid

Once upon a time, there was once a guy who was very much in love with this girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl. Although, at that time he was just a small executive in his company, his future doesn't seemed too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualise any future for the both of them, so let's go their own ways there and then... heartbroken, the guy agreed.

When he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make something out of himself. Finally with all these hard work and with the help of friends, this guy had set up his own company...

"You never fail until you stop trying." he always told himself. "I must make it in life!"One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn't take him long to realise those were his ex-girlfriend's parents. With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn't the same anymore, he had his own company, car, condo, etc. He had made it in life!

Before the guy can realise, the couple was walking towards a cemetary,and he got out of his car and followed them...and he saw his ex-girlfriend, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone... and he saw his precious paper cranes in a bottle placed beside her tomb. Her parents saw him. He walked over and asked them why this had happened. They explained, she did not leave for France at all. She was stricken ill with cancer. In her heart, she had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want her illness to be his obstacle ... therefore she had chosen to leave him.

She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again he can take some of those back with him. The guy just wept ...the worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them but knowing you can't have them and will never see them again.The End."

A tragic story that perhaps happens only in the movies. At the end of the day, money is money is money but love is divine. In our quest for our material wealth, take time to make time for our loved ones. There will be a time when we have only memories to cling to.Take this weekend to show our "love" to all that are close to us.

The Ring.

By Rudy J Reid

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A girl was sitting on a chair at the gas station she worked at. She looked up and saw her boyfriend walk in. As he was looking at snacks, a man walked in and pointed a gun at her. He had been admiring her ring her boyfriend had given to her as a token of his love. When he asked her to give it to him, she said no. Her boyfriend looked up just in time to see her shot. He ran over to the killer and beat him over the head with a hammer that was for sale. Then he ran and called 911. When the ambulance came, he was sobbing uncontrollably near his girlfriend.

The doctor came over and felt for her pulse. Then he stood up and said she was still alive. Later at the hospital, as he was sitting beside her, he asked “Why didn't you just give him the ring?" and then she softly spoke “Because when you gave it to me, you said it was part of your love for me and I knew if I gave him the ring, I would lose that love." The next day, she was pronounced dead.

The Lesson

By Rudy J Reid

 

There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same.

But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners. He is a joy to be around."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

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Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.

Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favourite teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favourite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer - the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me.

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Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

A Special Teacher

By Rudy J Reid

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on that first day of school in the Fall and told the children a lie.

Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils, saying she loved each of them the same, that she would treat them all alike.

But that was impossible for there in front of her, slumped in his third row seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkempt and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant. It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then highlighting the "F" at the top of the paper.

Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him either. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's records and delayed Teddy's until last. She opened his file, and found a surprise.

His first-grade teacher had written, and I quote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners. He is a joy to be around."

His second-grade teacher had penned, "Teddy is an excellent student, well-liked by all his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third-grade teacher had noted, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth-grade teacher had commented, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show

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much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and often falls asleep in class. He is tardy and could become a more serious problem."

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the extent of the problem, but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus again on Teddy Stoddard.

Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissor grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter as she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed behind after class just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching Reading, Writing, & Speaking. Instead, she began to teach Children. Jean Thompson paid very particular attention to one they all called "Teddy." As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On the days when there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne.

By the end of the year he had become one of the highest achieving children in the class and, well, he had also somewhat become, the "pet" of that teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later, she found a note under her door from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his favourite.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favourite teacher of all time.

Four years later, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honours.

He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favourite teacher.

Four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favourite teacher but that now, his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. For there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married.

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He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

And on that special day, Jean Thompson wore that bracelet, the one with the rhinestones missing.

And on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas together.

The Rose

By Rudy J Reid

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to find a wrinkled little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being. She said, "Hi, Handsome. My name is Rose. I’m eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?"

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, "Of course you may!" and she gave me a giant squeeze.

"Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?" I asked.

She jokingly replied, "I’m here to meet a rich husband, get married, have a couple of children, and then retire and travel."

"No, seriously," I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

"I always dreamed of having a college education and now I’m getting one!" she told me.

After class we walked to the student union building and shared a milkshake. We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized, listening to this "time machine" as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she revelled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet and I’ll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her 3x 5 cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed, she leaned into the microphone and simply said, "I’m sorry I’m so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I’ll never get my speech

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back in order so let me just tell you what I know."

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began: "We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success."

"You have to laugh and find humour every day."

"You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who are dead and don’t even know it!"

"There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eight-eight. Anybody can grow older. That doesn’t take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity in change."

"Have no regrets. The elderly usually don’t have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets."

She concluded her speech by courageously singing "The Rose." She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives.

At the year’s end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it’s never too late to be all you can possibly be.

Some say, "Love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed,"Some say, "Love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed."

Some say, "Love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need."I say, "Love, it is a flower, and you, it’s only seed."

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes a chance.It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give,

And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long,And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,

Just remember, in the winter far beneath the bitter snow,Lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose."

Love Life

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By Rudy J Reid

I’ve heard the saying, “The best gift parents can ever give to their children is to love each other.”

I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing the truth of this statement for over 40 years. From as far back as I can remember my Mom and Dad were a team. A great partnership. They were more than just a partnership. It was as if they were one person.

Sure, they argued, but there was never any doubt in our minds that any disagreements would be worked through and resolved. Mom and Dad began their married life poor, but they worked hard and, over the years, built a very successful business. They each had their strengths and weaknesses, but the way they worked together, you never saw the weaknesses, just the strengths.

Dad was the outgoing, more public person with whom people met and fell in love with right away. Everyone knew Dad! Then, when they got to meet Mom, they felt the exact same way about her as well. Mom, although not at all shy, was more comfortable being the person behind the scenes. More detail oriented, she ran the books and, according to Dad, was the one who really made the business work.

The biggest lesson about love and marriage that my mom and dad taught us kids was how to talk “about” your spouse. Have you ever heard husbands and wives, when speaking to others, make unkind remarks about their spouses? It’s one of those things people just seem to do. Sure, they’re “only kidding,” or maybe they are not. But words matter. And words teach, whether positively or negatively.

You would never hear such a thing from my mom and dad. Dad always speaks of Mom in the most complimentary, glowing terms. As does she of him.

This lesson made such an impression on me. I still remember when I was age 12 and we were getting carpet installed in our home. The crew boss was one of those stereotypical beer guzzling, hard-living guys, who would have probably belonged to Ralph Kramer’s Raccoon Lodge from the old Honeymooner’s TV show. For lunch, my folks bought pizza for the crew. Dad went to talk with the boss about the job. I was around the corner listening.

The boss said, “This is an expensive job. Women will really spend your money, won’t they?” Dad responded, “Well, I’ll tell you, when they were right there with you before you had any money, it’s a pleasure to do anything for them you possibly can.”

This wasn’t the answer the carpet installer expected to hear. He was looking for negative banter about wives which, to him, was natural. He tried again: “But, gee, they’ll really play off that and spend all they can, won’t they?” Dad replied, as I knew he would, “Hey, when they’re the reason you’re successful, you want them to do the things they enjoy. There’s no greater pleasure.” Strike two.

The crew boss tried one more time, “And they’ll take that as far as they can, huh?” Dad responded, “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’d do anything to make her happy.”

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I was trying not to laugh. I knew he wanted Dad to give in just a little bit and say, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” But it wouldn’t happen… not in a million years!

Finally, the installer gave up and went back to work, probably shaking his head in bewilderment. Witnessing my dad in that moment taught me more about loving and respecting your wife than anything he could ever have told me about the subject.

Mom and Dad are now retired and enjoying their life together, just hanging out, reading, and visiting their children and grandchildren. They recently celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary.

They still hold hands, and they are more in love than ever. Throughout the years, whenever Mom would remind me that I should be looking to get married, I’d say, “Ma, I have plenty of time.” She’d jokingly reply that I don’t have “that” much time. My Dad would then look at me in that wisdom-filled, city streets bred way of his and say, “Hey, you take all the time you need. If you marry someone just half the woman your mother is, you’ll have a great life.”

I should only be so lucky.

No Charge For Love

By Rudy J Reid

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy. “Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”

“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat of the back of ! his neck, “These puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”

“Sure,” said the farmer, and with that he let out a whistle. Here, Dolly!” he called.

Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur.

The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up…. “I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would. “

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg

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attaching itself to a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands. “

With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully he handed it to the little boy.

“How much?” asked the little boy.

“No charge,” answered the farmer,

“There’s no charge for love.”

Your Actions by Rudy J Reid

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd." I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friend the following afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him, and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye.

I handed him his glasses and said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives."

He looked at me and said, "Hey, thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. It turned out he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before coming to this school.

I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes. We hung all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him. And my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Damn boy, you are going to

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really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!". He just laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends.

When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class.

I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.

Graduation day arrived - I saw Kyle and he looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him!

Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"

He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said. As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach... but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story."

I stared at my friend in disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable."

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others.

"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."

Still Have Nightmares...

By Rudy J Reid

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I ran away a few months ago. At that time I was 13. I am a very angry and sad person. I grew up without a father and sometimes was made fun for it. I was very poor for a long time and lived in the ghettos and homeless shelters of a lot of different cities. My mamas boyfriends and husbands were all very mean and there was always fighting in the house in front of me and my sister.

About 3 years ago my mom left her last husband and had a couple boyfriends after that. When I was 12 my sister moved out of the apartment. All the anger and frustration that my mama had, she took out on me. I tried to express my feelings to my mama, but she just got mad. 

So finally I just runaway. It was so hard to survive. I broke into many "for sale" houses just to sleep in them. I was over exhausted and starving. I had to sell drugs to get money. The person that lent me the drugs got angry and tried to shoot me because I owed him money. Then I got in a argument with a boy, and he also tried to shoot me. I was raped twice. I found out I was pregnant, but I lost the baby. I was constantly running from the cops for all different things. I have barb wire scars all over my legs from running at night. I started getting really sick from lack of food, sleep, and the dirty places I slept.

I finally got arrested and the police called my mama to pick me up. I still feel like running away sometimes and I have nightmares of the stuff I went through. I'm just lucky I didn't die. I just needed to talk about my experiences. I sometimes wish for a different life, but I am who I am for a reason.

Once Upon a Time

By Rudy J Reid

Once upon a time I was a runaway who had lost my way. I thought that God had balled me up like a piece of trash and thrown me away. Living my life day y day waiting for my turn. I listened to angry music to get me by to make me strong so that I didn't feel alone.

I made a family of my own out on the streets thank God. The family I made was true to me. They helped me care lifted me up and brought me to see this wasn't how life was meant to be. You can read a story I wrote on here 4 years ago when I was still on the streets.

About a week after this story was written my soon to be husband made me promise to go home. He told me he loved me but I needed to go home or he couldn't be with me. Finally someone who cared just enough to give me a hug for an hour if I needed it, someone to hold my hand when it was hard and I couldn't make through the day alone. And now me and this angel from heaven are getting married in a month 3 years and 7 months and two days after I wrote my story in here, and we have a beautiful baby boy who is 6 months old.

I guess my point is it's possible to grow to be a strong person and pull through. I mean I would have never thought I would be here that day. I wanted nothing more than to die but this man from God loved me and I knew it would kill him to see me do this and I loved him and still do. God blessed me even when I didn't believe. You can to.

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On the Other Side of the Streets

By Rudy J Reid

I am writing this because I know how lucky I am to have gotten out on the other side... I hope that somehow.. someday I can help just one kid who may think leaving home is a good idea.

I was 15 when I left home. There were many reasons that I am sure most kids go through, but when I had an experience with date rape and told my mother who said it was my fault" what did I expect" I decided to bolt. I figured I could take care of myself better than anyone so I left. The problem is once you get out on the street you realize that it isn't that easy. You can’t get a job because you can’t give your name, you can’t eat without stealing or hooking. You become a shell of a human, you go from worrying about the guy in 5th period thinking you’re a dork to worrying if you are going to get raped or worse. I slept where ever I could find a place to flop. I spent many a night behind a local grocery store and would get up really early in the morning before the delivery trucks would come. I would raid the dumpster to get the day old bread or the bruised fruit to eat. I would use local fast food places to wash up in ( as best as you can anyway).

I hooked up with a small time drug dealer and began to work for him delivering drugs. I was sexually assaulted by a customer. I remember thinking how can I get out of this without going home and admitting defeat. The turning point was the day I got arrested for shoplifting at the grocery store I was sleeping behind. When the police arrived they asked me if I would like to spend the night in jail. I just looked up at him in utter defeat and said it would be better than where I slepted last night. I spent a few days in Juvi, which is no picnic either... if you think the streets are bad... do a sleep over in Juvi! A few days later I met with my "case worker" he was very nice. I was placed in a foster home and my parents were contacted. After some negotiation I was allowed to go and live with relatives.

I completed high school and went on to college. I am now married and a mother of two beautiful girls. I would die if either of them went to the streets. My mother and I haven't spoken in several years. That is ok with me, I was later told that she has what the shrinks call a narcissistic personality disorder. Basically it means that it is impossible for her to worry or feel anything for anyone other than herself. I could have told them that!

My point is I know that life is hard at home at times but there has to be SOMEONE you can tell,,, a friends parent that you trust! The street cares less about you than the parent(s) that you are leaving. If you are being abused tell someone... anyone! I beg anyone who even thinks about it to really think! The streets are hard and once you are out there NO ONE will care if you live or die. I thank God every day that I made it through because now I love life.

 

Not the same old story

By Rudy J Reid

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My mother got cancer when I was 14, so my parents (mother and stepfather) sent me to live with my aunt and uncle in Wyoming. I hated every day I was there, but somehow I made it through an entire year and returned to live with my parents the next year. I suppose part of me never forgave my parents for sending me away.

When I returned home, my mother was still bedridden in recovery from her cancer and her doctor advised her that my stepfather should take over the “parenting role.” Since my mother wasn’t around to see anything I did, it gave my stepfather complete control over my life. My stepfather would lie to my mother about me and my mother would believe him (And why not? Wouldn’t you believe your spouse?). One time, I spoke to my mother and explained that he was lying to her and she said something I’ll never forget: “I won’t believe that this man lied!” (Motioning to my stepfather).

That’s when I knew that I had to get out. The next time my stepfather made up a story about me (the next day), I yelled back at him and he told me that if I didn’t like the rules, I could get out. I DIDN’T like the rules so I left. I was 15 at the time.

I went to live with a friend and his parents for the first few months. I got a job at a burger joint down the street and I worked as many hours as I could. A couple of months after I left, I went drinking with some buddies and ended up being arrested and charged with a minor in possession of alcohol, so I had to go to court. Of course, a notice was sent to my parent’s home, so my father showed up in court. He spoke to the judge and made up more lies about me (he actually lied on the witness stand) and, to make a long story short, I was sentenced to 30 days in juvenile detention.

Before me, the most anyone in my county had ever gotten for a minor in possession of alcohol was 7 days in jury. I felt it was unfair to have to serve 30 days, but what really upset me was that there was another guy in jury that had 20 days…FOR RAPE OF A CHILD… I learned a hard lesson in jury: life is not fair. When I accepted that, things started to get better in my life.

When my time in jury was up, my stepfather refused to pick me up, so I ended up as a ward of the state. I was put in a foster home pretty close to some of my friend’s houses so I got to hang out with them and be a normal kid again. The lady that I lived with just took the $500 that she got from the government every month, gave me half of it, and said “you’re on your own!” We slept in the same house, but that was about it.

I got another job and went back to school. I graduated from H.S. on time and since I was a ward of the state, I got free tuition to go to college. At college, I majored in the hardest thing that I could find: Chemical Engineering. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.

At 21, I graduated with a 3.95 GPA and had plenty of great job offers making a lot of money, but I turned them down and took the MCAT to go to medical school. I am now in my 2nd semester of medical school and am loving life. I am with the woman of my dreams and I have a bright future.

I never speak to my parents anymore and that’s fine with me. All they ever did was doubt me and hold me back. I’d like to talk to my mother (who made a full recovery from her cancer), but then I’d run the risk of having to see my stepfather again. That’s enough to keep me away.

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Running away was the best thing that I ever did. If I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

Advice: There is one piece of advice that I give away every chance that I get. Through everything that happens, stay in school. Education is what got me out of the mess that I was in. Kids these days (I still consider myself a kid, I guess) often choose to do badly in school to fight back at their parents. There is NOTHING that could ever shackle you more to them than giving up on education.

The Secret to Success

By Rudy J Reid

I'm was a runaway because I was kicked out of the house and abused. Most runaways are not runaways at all but abused kids whose parents can't wait to get rid of.

I got on a train to London and stepped off the train in downtown with only £5 in my pocket and a violin. Want to hear my story? Well, today I'm a successful business owner and employ over a dozen people and earn over 200K per year. ALL on my own.

When I first stepped off the bus, I was scared beyond belief. I walked for miles and miles, not wanting to stop because I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Eventually, I sold my violin at a pawn shop and got a hotel room. In the morning after sleeping, I had trouble moving my legs because I walked so much the two days before hand. I had to lift them up with my hands.

I walked and walked and walked some more and finally found a Mexican man who was sleeping in his car and let me sleep in the back seat. I stole food to eat and panhandled for what little I had. I was all alone with no one. No one cared about me and no one helped me except for a homeless man with nothing.

I wanted so much to just have a life, to take care of myself. I knew that what happened to me wasn't because of me but because of other people's sickness.

I panhandled up a few dollars and made a sign saying: "Work wanted. Strong, young honest young man will work for £5 per hour. Yard work, moving, painting, anything. Please call and have me do your odd jobs around the house". I put in a pay phone that I knew would ring and stayed there all day waiting on calls. And you know what? I got lots of calls. I started working. I would walk to the people who called and did all sorts of work. Anything, it didn't matter.

Then I found a construction company guy who hired me full time. And then I found a man who ran a rooming house who hired me to paint the rooms in exchange for a room in the house! It was great!

I've never stopped working since and now own my own telemarketing company and have thousands of customers and hire people all the time. I have a Mercedes and a nice life and am saving for my retirement.

You want to know my secret to success? WORK! and then WORK some more. Don't let mentally ill abusers and sickos tell you what you are and how you

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should live or be. You create and control your destiny. Get off your ass and do it!

Let me tell you. That first meal I ate after working a job created by my signs was the best meal I've ever had and took me on the road to self reliance. You can do it too. Stop crying, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get off your ass and make things happen. You'll find that they just have to be pushed a little, moved a bit, and then they all come crashing down.

This is a true story.

Do you know what gives me a laugh every day?

When people look down their nose at me as rich man and see me pulling up in a Mercedes and thousand dollar suit. Little do they know that just a few years ago I was picking through their garbage for food to eat.

Just A Glass Of Milk

By Rudy J Reid

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.

He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water! She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it so slowly, and then asked, How much do I owe you?"

You don't owe me anything," she replied. "Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness."

He said ... "Then I thank you from my heart."

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Many years later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

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Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.

Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once.

He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case.

After a long struggle, the battle was won.

Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge, and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words ...

"Paid in full with one glass of milk"

(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

The Wallet By Rudy J Reid

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.

It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him anymore because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him.

It was signed, Hannah.

It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there any way you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a

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phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!"

"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter."

She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.

I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "

Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television."

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.

She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye.

I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael."

She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said Softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."

"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him.

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You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..."

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?"

I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet."

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."

"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks."

I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.

On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"

"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"

I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward."

"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"

"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."

He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.

"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly.

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The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her."

"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me."

We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?" She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"

She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!" He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.

"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home... "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!" It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.

A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

My Guardian Angel By Rudy J Reid

There was this little girl sitting by herself in the park. Everyone passed by her and never stopped to see why she looked so sad. Dressed in a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the people go by. She never tried to speak. She never said a word. Many people passed by her, but no one would stop.

The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her eyes. Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the little girl's dress. It was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her. Deformities are a low blow to our society and, heaven forbid if you make a step toward

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assisting someone who is different. As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more clearly.

She was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello"; The little girl acted shocked, and stammered a "hi"; after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad face said, "Because, I'm different"; I immediately said, "That you are!"; and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know." "Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent."

She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said, "Really?" "Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all people walking by." She nodded her head yes, and smiled.

With that she opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then she said "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was speechless -- sure I was seeing things."

She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job here is done;" I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"

She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You are the only one that could see me," and then she was gone.

And with that, my life was changed dramatically.

With You By Rudy J Reid

It was autumn again. Sucking in the warm morning breeze, Mary smiled as she stretched her arms wide, as though embracing the beauty of nature. Jumping up and down in glee, she swirled around in the garden, with her long silky jet-black hair dancing behind her. By anyone’s standards, she was beautiful. Her cherry lips often gave way to smiles and laughter and her eyes a beautiful shade of blue.

She let the wind sting her cheeks as she ran around the garden, shrieking in joy, when she skidded on the fallen leaves only to find herself resting on the strong grasp of a hand. Opening her eyes, her heart momentarily stopped beating as she came face to face with a freckled-faced man. He grinned, revealing a row of yellowish teeth, and then opened his mouth, sending out a weave of nasty stench which smelled like a thousand rotten apples. Mary widened her eyes in horror, shocking the man as he lost grip of her and she fell on the floor.

Moaning miserably, she got up slowly from her supine position and grunted, flinging expletives at the bewildered man. But he only looked down without a word. “Are you mute!

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Can’t you even say sorry!” Mary cried out in frustration and stomped off. The man sighed and shook his head, picking up his broom to continue sweeping the fallen leaves.

The next day, Mary sat under a tree in the same garden, burying her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Suddenly, she felt her nose twitch as an unbearable stench gushed into her nostrils and she looked up, only to see a white handkerchief.

“You again” she folded her arms, obviously annoyed. The man lifted his right hand to the side of his forehead, an indication that he was sorry. He then pointed to the handkerchief, motioning her to wipe her tears. “A-Are you really… mute?” Mary stammered, afraid to know the answer. Instead, the man smiled, and distorted his face using his hands so he looked hilariously frightful. Mary laughed, and he whipped out a piece of paper from his back pocket and started scribbling. Like this, a few hours passed.

“If only my boyfriend was as understanding as you, John…” She mused sadly and continued, “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” And they sat in silence in the middle of the garden where brown leaves scattered, and where a beautiful friendship was already blossoming.

Day after day, Mary would look for John in the garden, where he would be sweeping the leaves. They enjoyed each other’s company immensely, even if it meant communicating through scraps of paper. Many a time, Mary did the talking and John, the listening, always ready with a handkerchief to chase away her sorrows. Whenever Mary was feeling down, John would bring her to the fields in the outskirts of the city where sunflowers bloomed its prettiest and hatred never existed. He would urge her to tell her unhappiness to a tree and then carve a tiny happy face at that portion of the trunk. Months soon passed, and this humble tree was soon filled with many happy faces. This was their paradise.

Unfortunately, their love was soon put to the test. It was past midnight. Mary was returning home from work and had taken the short cut through a deserted alley when two big burly men appeared before her. They had similar nasty stench drifting out of their mouths and snorted furiously like demented bulls.

“Leave John alone! He’s better off without women! He belongs with us to the underworld!” One of them boomed. Mary, frightened, shrieked and closed her eyes, muttering a short prayer as she anticipated her life to end at this juncture. Seconds passed, and she gingerly opened her eyes, to see an outline of a familiar figure wrestling with the two burly men. John was punched and kicked about like a rag doll. Blood trickling from his nose and forehead, he was sprawled on the ground, defenceless. “That’s what you get for betraying us,” they smirked in satisfaction and swaggered away.

“John!” Mary cried out, lifting him up and hugging him tightly. Examining his face carefully, she realised that like those burly men, he was filthy and smelly, but unlike them, he had the kindest and most beautiful eyes ever. She had come to love this man for who he was. It was a love that needed no words. Garnering the last ounce of strength in him, he took out the white handkerchief he always carried and held it out to her. She received the handkerchief with trembling hands. Inhaling sharply, she let Niagara Falls come.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me no matter what happens” She whispered. With quivering hands, he took out a scrap of paper and pen. “I’ll always be with you” He assured her. “I swear”. Smiling, she held out her last finger in which he hooked against his and they hugged.

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Although belonging to different worlds, one a law graduate from Harvard and the other from the underworld, they never mentioned about their difference in status. Instead, their love only grew stronger after that fateful incident.

One day, Mary was on her way to the garden when a gush of fluid was flung at her face. Instantly, she felt a burning sensation in her eyes and the flash of light was soaked up by the spreading dark patches before her eyes. Her ear splitting screaming reverberated to John’s ears as he sallied forward towards the sound, only to see Mary already unconscious on the ground, and he knew it was the work of the two burly men.

Mary was rushed to the hospital forthwith but it was too late. She was to lose her sight. Her family was devastated and wailed in pain and anguish. Guilt-ridden to have caused misfortune to befall Mary and her family, John made up his mind. He knew what he had to do.

Packing the essentials, he decided to leave and quitted his job as a sweeper in the garden. Looking at the blissful pictures of Mary and himself, he sighed and threw them away.

“Mary! Can you see me?” Aunts jostled towards the weary girl and waved before her. The image she saw was a blur and she felt groggy. However, it was a great blessing that Mary had regained her sight. Looking into the mirror, she was startled to find that her eyes looked somewhat different. They were the same shade of blue, but now they exuberated great warmth and compassion.

Unfortunately, Mary soon realised that John had left her and was devastated. She bawled her heart out and pinned for him day and night. Thinking back on the promise he made to her, she hated him all the more.

One day, she decided to visit their place of paradise to relieve their happy days together. She walked to the tree where she used to pour out her unhappiness and leaned close to the trunk and touched its rough surface filled with happy faces. She wept uncontrollably as she ran her fingers down the trunk. Unexpectedly, she saw the words ‘I’ll be with you’ engraved on the foot of the tree trunk. Glimmers of hope began to light the darkness as she looked earnestly around, but what she saw left her dumbfounded.

On the bench sat a man with a pair of sunglasses and a walking stick. Under the scorching sun, he was sweating profusely and fished out a white handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe the perspiration. Coincidentally, a photo fell out from the pocket as well. With manifold feelings, Mary picked up the photo and looked at herself in the picture and was shocked. The man groped his back pocket for the photo and became flustered when it was no longer there. Slowly, Mary walked over and placed the photo in the man’s hands. It was only then that she tasted the warm salty wetness of her own tears and realised how hard she was crying.

The man bowed in gratitude and flashed his yellowish teeth which glistened in the morning sun.

“I’ll always be with you… “

Looking at the man who loved her so deeply, she smiled. Touching her eyes which were once his, tears streaked down her cheeks. His eyes brimming with her tears.

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The Light Bus

By Rudy J Reid

A touching love story that occurs on a bus. This sad love story is so sweet it certainly brings a warmness to the heart!

The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully up t\he steps. She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, walked down the aisle and found the seat he'd told her was empty. Then she settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against her leg.

It had been a year since Susan, 34, became blind. Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity. And all she had to cling to was her husband, Mark.

Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan with all his heart. When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again.

Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there? She used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city. At first, this comforted Susan, and fulfilled Mark's need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task.

Soon, however, Mark realized the arrangement wasn't working. Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again, he admitted to himself. But she was still so fragile, so angry - how would she react? Just as he predicted, Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again.

"I'm blind!", she responded bitterly. "How am I supposed to know where I am going? I feel like you're abandoning me."

Mark's heart broke to hear these words, but he knew what had to be done. He promised Susan that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang of it. And that is exactly what happened. For two solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from work each day.

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He taught her how to rely on her other senses, specifically her hearing, to determine where she was and how to adapt to her new environment. He helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, and save her a seat.

Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her arms around Mark, her temporary bus-riding companion, her husband, and her best friend. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience, And his love. She said good-bye, and for the first time, they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... Each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. She was doing it! She was going to work all by herself.

On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying the fare to exit the bus, the driver said, "Boy, I sure do envy you." Susan wasn't sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. After all, who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to find the courage to live for the past year? Curious, she asked the driver, "Why do you say that you envy me?"

The driver responded, "It must feel good to be taken care of and protected like you are." Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, and again asked, "What do you mean?"

The driver answered, "You know, every morning for the past week, a fine-looking gentleman in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you as you get off the bus. He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches until you enter your office building.

Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady." Tears of happiness poured down Susan's cheeks. For although she couldn't physically see him, she had always felt Mark's presence. She was lucky, so lucky, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn't need to see to believe - the gift of love that can bring light where there is darkness.

Unloved

By Rudy J Reid

Another touching story, that things might not be what they seem. Surprises and the sweetest of them comes in small packages. And this story shows just that, don't underestimate the littlest of gestures for they might actually be the ones which you will remember for life.

I had three friends. Eric, Cathleen, Carol.Eric was chased by all the girls in our high school.Cathleen was one of those popular girls. Cheerleader, sexy, and stylish.Carol was just one of those plain and average girls .Cathleen and Carol were both totally crazy and wacko over Eric.Cathleen didn't have to do anything to attract Eric.

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For she was already attractive enough.Carol on the other hand, showered Eric which love and care.Carol wasn't ugly at all.In fact, she looked sweet and pleasant.But she wasn't a cheerleader, she didn't were spaghetti-straps or tubes.So like everyone expected, Eric chose Cathleen.For Carol was just one ordinary and plain girl.While Cathleen was labile d as the cool and attractive type.

Eric always insulted Carol.

Telling her what a 'Plain Jane' she was.And how dumb she looked.Which obviously made Carol feel so hurt and useless.That's life. Carol never gave up though.She wanted to prove something to Eric.She wanted to prove that looks aren't everything.She studied hard, really hard.She became the top girl, and all the guys who once ignored her, chased her.

But she never forgot Eric.Everyday, she put a red rose in Eric's locker.Always with the same words.'I care for you, and I always will'Because she knew that Eric was facing a hard time.Eric began to realise.How dumb he had been.His beloved girlfriend, Cathleen.Was flirting with other guys.He regretted for choosing the wrong girl.

Cathleen broke up with Eric later.For she had found a wealthier guy.Eric felt so cheated, stupid and dumb.He went to look for Carol.He knelt on his knees, and said."Carol, please forgive me. Do you want to be my girlfriend?"Carol rejected him, much to everyone's surprise.She only uttered these words."You've suffered a great loss, so I don't want you to face another one"

Eric felt disappointed.He didn't understand a word that she said to him.But they became good friends.Did everything together.Eric began to change into someone better.Because Carol showered him with the love he never experienced before.His ex-girlfriends had never treated him that way.They just accepted him for his looks.

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But Carol accepted him for himself .She changed him.Carol continued putting a red rose into his locker every day.With the same words. She never forgot.

One day, Carol didn't turn up in school.She didn't come for a week.At first, Eric thought that she was on a vacation with her family.Because she told him that she would be going Hawaii with them.But one day. He received a call from the General Hospital.Saying that Carol was about to die.She had been suffering from cancer.But Carol forbade them from telling him.Because she didn't want Eric to worry about her.But now that she was about to die.She wanted to see Eric for the last time.Eric rushed to the hospital.When he saw how weak Carol was.Tears began rushing down his cheeks.He whispered."Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why did you hide this from me?"She looked at him . And smiled weakly at him.

"When I said that I didn't want you to suffer from facing another loss, I meant this. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry. I wanted to spend my last days with you cheerfully." Eric looked at her."You can't leave me!" he said."What will I be without you?""You'll be who you are now. I will always be there by your side. Never forget that. Cherish those times. Live life happily. And one more thing."

"Yes?" "I love you" And she died. Eric screamed.He still couldn't accept Carol's death.He had only spent a month with Carol.

A month. But Carol changed his life in a way.A way that no one could ever explain. He regretted.But he knew that Carol would always be keeping an eye on him from Heaven.Sometimes We just don't appreciate those people who really care for us.Until they leave us. Until we lose them. Then we regret.Outer beauty doesn't matter; it's the inner one that counts.It's better to tell someone how much you love them.Rather than to not tell them and lose them without telling them.You'll regret Love is. When we fight till the very last minute.Just to show and tell someone how much we love them.

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Last words

By Rudy J Reid

A beautiful story, well written and captured all the emotions so well. It's another story about sickness and love, how when put together, it seems to just take away the hurt and the pain that the sickness brings. A story that will bring tears to anyone's eyes.

It had been raining for more than a week, so much rain it made everyday seemed so restless and gloomy. She called and said she was coming up. It was the third time she came up to see me that week. I carried her excuse of why she came all the way here and went to meet her at the nearby seven-eleven. She was standing there alone, carrying her red umbrella. Her friend had dropped her off. It was raining and she was shivering. She looked weak and fragile in the harsh rain, wearing not enough to keep her warm.

I walked up to her and said, "You shouldn't come see me anymore," and stuff like how we shouldn't be together.

She said, "I miss you."

I told her coldly, "Lets go, I'll take you home."

She did not open up her umbrella; I knew she wanted to share mine.

I said, "Open up your umbrella, let's go."

Unwillingly, she opened up her umbrella and walked with me to the car. She said she hadn't eat lunch or dinner and asked if we could stop at some place to eat.

Right away I answered with a stoned heart, "No!"

Disappointed, she asked me to take her to the train station; she said she would take the train back home.

Maybe it was the rain, all the trains were full of people with umbrellas and suit cases who were eager to get home, not caring about who just passed by. We waited and waited, she looked at me innocently. Being together for so long, of course I knew what she meant. I understand how she must feel when she came all this way here in this kind of weather and I

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treat her like this. With her soft eyes staring at me, I felt guilt and wanted to let her stay for the night.

But reality struck again, I said to her coldly, "Let's go try the other train station."

We were living in the same apartment building, on the same floor. Back then there were four of us, and we got along well. We would always eat dinner together, watch movies, and sometimes go camping. We were more like a family, but I didn't know I would end up falling in love with the only girl of the four. Maybe it was during the last year of college, having living together for two years, we developed deep feelings for each other. After she graduated she went back home, and I stayed for one more year to finish school. During that year I was only able to take the train down to see her on holidays, but never for long. That was how we kept the treasured relationship.

We were walking along the side of the road. She was in front of me and I was right behind her. Her umbrella had a broken spoke. She looked liked a wounded soldier, carrying her rusted rifle walking weakly. Many times, she was too into thinking or whatever she was doing, drifting off the road, she almost got hit by the cars passing by. I wanted to just take her in my arms, but with the love I had for her and the constant pain in my stomach, I did nothing. On the way, we passed by the park where we use to always go.

She begged and said, "Let’s go in the park just for a little while please, I promise I'll go home right after this."

With her begging, my cold heart softened, but I still put up an annoyed face and walked in the park. I was just sitting on the benches looking like I wanted to leave. She went to the big oak tree and she was looking for something. I knew she was looking for what we wrote on that tree with a silver ink pen half a year ago. If I remember it right, it said, "Chris and Susan was here, Chris had tea and Susan was drinking hot chocolate. Hope Chris and Susan would always remember this day, always loving each other, forever." She was looking around for quite a while, and then she came back slowly with tears on her face.

She said, "Chris, I can't find it, it's not there anymore."

I felt so sour inside; there was a stream of pain, flowing into my heart, the kind of pain I've never felt before. But all I could do was pretend I didn't care, and said, "Can we go now?"

I opened up my big black umbrella, she was just standing there, didn't want to leave yet, hoping there was still a chance. She said, "You made up the story of you and that other girl didn't you? I know I frustrate you sometimes, but I'll change, can't we start over?"

I didn't say a word, just looked down and shook my head. After that we just kept on walking towards the train station, didn't say a word to each other.

Four years ago, the doctor said I had cancer, but it was found early, so it was still curable. Thinking that it was okay, I started living my normal life again, and even forgot about the cancer. I didn't think about the cancer again and did not go back to the doctor. Until a month ago, my stomach was hurting for two weeks straight, and the nightmare awakened me again. First I thought the pain would go away, but it grew stronger until to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. I went back to the doctor and took an X-ray. The picture came out and there

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was a big black spot, which proved the truth that I did not want to believe. I was at the most glittering part of my life, but it was coming to an end. I wanted myself and the people around me to go through the least pain possible, so I decided to commit suicide.

But I couldn't let people find out about my intentions, especially Susan, the person I love the most in this whole world, who still doesn't know about the truth. Susan was still young; she shouldn't have to go through this. So I made up some stories and lied to her. It was a cruel thing to do, and it broke her heart, but it was the fastest way to wipe out three years’ feelings. I didn't have much time, because I would soon start to lose hair and she would find out eventually. But now I'm close to succeeding, this drama would soon be over. Thirty minutes more this would all come to an end that was what I had in mind.

The train had stopped running so I called a taxi for her. We were just standing there, waiting, losing our last moments in silence.

I saw the taxi from far away; I held my tears and said to her, "Take care of yourself, take good care of yourself."

She didn't talk, just nodded lightly, and then opened up her misshaped umbrella and stepped out on the street. Out in the rain, we became two single life forms, one red, one black, so far away from each other. I opened the door for her and she got in, then I close the gate that would separate me from her forever. I stood by the car, staring in the dark window, at the first love in my life, also the last one, walking out of my life. The car started, driving into the street. Finally I couldn't hold my sorrow and the twist in my heart any longer, waving my arms rapidly chasing after the taxi, because I knew, this would be the last time I see her.

I wanted to tell her I still love her, I wanted to tell her to stay, I wanted to tell her so much, but the taxi had already turned in the corner. Warm tears kept falling down my face, blended with the cold rain drops. I was cold, not because of the rain. I was cold inside.

She left, and I didn't get anymore of her phone calls even until today. I know she didn't see my tears, because they were washed away by the rain. I left without regrets. But I'm not Chris, I'm that girl Susan, using my memory, and his diary I found after one year since he left, writing down these last words.

Don’t Be Shy

By Rudy J Reid

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: ‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

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The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys were playing baseball. Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’ Shay’s father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay’s father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.’

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt . His father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father’s joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first! Run to first!’ Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’ Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the

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second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the way Shay!’

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third, Shay, run to third!’

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home! Run home!’ Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.

Young Shay would never forget what it felt like to be a hero that day.

Neither would the other boys.

"The decency of any society can be measured by how it treats its most vulnerable citizens."

Love and Success

By Rudy J Reid

A woman came out of her house and saw three old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them. She said, "I don't think I know you, but you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat."

"Is the man of the house home?" they asked. "No", she said. "He's out."

"Then we cannot come in", they replied.

In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened. "Go tell them I am home and invite them in," he said.

The woman went out and invited the men in. "We do not go into a house together," they replied. "Why is that?" she wanted to know. One of the old men explained: "His name is Wealth," he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, "He is Success, and I am Love." Then he added, "Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home."

The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. "How nice!" he said. "Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth!"

His wife disagreed. "My dear, why don't we invite Success?" Their daughter-in-law was

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listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: "Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!"

"Let us heed our daughter-in-law's advice," said the husband to his wife. "Go out and invite Love to be our guest."

The woman went out and asked the three old men, "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest." Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other two also got up and followed him.

Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success: "I only invited Love, why are you coming in?" The old men replied together: "If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would've stayed out, but since you invited Love, wherever He goes, we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!"

The time of my life

By Rudy J Reid

It was June 15, and in two days I would be turning thirty. I was insecure about entering a new decade of my life and feared that my best years were now behind me.

My daily routine included going to the gym for a workout before going to work. Every morning I would see my friend Nicholas at the gym. He was seventy-nine years old and in terrific shape. As I greeted Nicholas on this particular day, he noticed I wasn't full of my usual vitality and asked if there was anything wrong. I told him I was feeling anxious about turning thirty. I wondered how I would look back on my life once I reached Nicholas's age, so I asked him, "What was the best time of your life?"

Without hesitation, Nicholas replied, "Well, Joe, this is my philosophical answer to your philosophical question:

"When I was a child in Austria and everything was taken care of for me and I was nurtured by my parents, that was the best time of my life.

"When I was going to school and learning the things I know today, that was the best time of my life.

"When I got my first job and had responsibilities and got paid for my efforts, that was the best time of my life.

"When I met my wife and fell in love, that was the best time of my life.

"The Second World War came, and my wife and I had to flee Austria to save our lives. When we were together and safe on a ship bound for North America, that was the best time of my life.

"When we came to Canada and started a family, that was the best time of my life.

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"When I was a young father, watching my children grow up, that was the best time of my life.

"And now, Joe, I am seventy-nine years old. I have my health, I feel good and I am in love with my wife just as I was when we first met. This is the best time of my life."

Boy At A Big Piano  By Rudy J Reid 

 

Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the piano, a mother took her boy to a school concert. After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her.

Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way through a door

marked "NO ADMITTANCE." When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that the child was missing.

Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused onthe impressive Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother sawher little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit. Keep playing."

Then leaning over, the master reached down with his lefthand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obligator. Together, the old master and the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was mesmerized.

That's the way it is in life. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't exactly graceful flowing music. But when we trust in the hands of a Greater Power, our life's work truly can be beautiful.

Next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You can hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your ear, "Don't quit. Keep playing."

Twenty Pounds By Rudy J Reid 

A well known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a £20 pounds. In the room of 200, he asked. "Who would like this £20 pounds?"

Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this £20 to one of you - but first, let me do this."

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He proceeded to crumple the 20 pounds note up. He then asked. "Who still wants it?" Still the hands were up in the air.

"Well," he replied, "what if I do this?" He dropped it on theground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. "Now, who still wants it?"

Still the hands went into the air.

"My friends, you have all learned a very valuable lesson. Nomatter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth £20.Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless; but no matter what happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value.

Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are stillpriceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives comes, not in what we do or who we know, but by ...WHO WE ARE.

You are special - don't ever forget it."

So what do you think so far good stories or not?

Why did i write them? Well I’ve always wanted to write stories and for the first time to let my feelings out that’s why.

Look out for more of my short stories the best is yet to come.

This book is called a book of short stories part 1 inside the stories.

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