04.27.16 Wacky Wonderful Wednesdays!

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Scott Feldstein

We all love super heroes. When most of us were growing up, we always had a role model, someone we looked up to, or a super hero that we wanted to be when we grew up. It was fun thinking (and sometimes still do) about the awesomeness of having the super power to fly, leap higher than the tallest building, run faster than lightning, become bulletproof, and a host of other things.

Sometimes, unbeknownst to us, there are sometimes REAL super heroes in our midst…and we have no idea who they are! Such is the case of today’s story of a person that was a super hero despite of the “evil” said by others.

I am sure that today’s short story will touch your heart in a special way and, maybe, bring a tear to your eye…but it is a story and a lesson that you may never forget…

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While sitting on a train one day, a young boy about 7 years old got on dressed as Superman. He had the biggest smile on his face…his eyes beaming…and joy just emanating from his soul. Suddenly, a heartless and callous man asked the boy, “Hey kid, you aren’t Superman! So why are you dressed up like him?”

The young boy just looked at him and said, “I may not look like Superman to you, but I’m going to see my mom who is very sick in the hospital and she smiles every time she sees me…so I’m her Superman…and that’s why I am dressed like this.”

Absolutely Precious!

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KRISPY CREME MINIS!

 

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Be the Candle

A 100-year-old woman on how to make the rest of your life count.

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”–Edith Wharton

“My advice to this generation is — give of yourself. There’s no one who can’t give something.”–Mathilda Spak

Of all the people I have ever interviewed Mathilda Spak has to be one of the most extraordinary. At close to 100 years old, Mathilda is out there volunteering every day from morning till night. This feisty lady has more energy than people half her age even though she has severe arthritis and suffers from black-outs. Yet Mathilda completely relishes life. As she told me, “I’m having a ball!”

Every day Mathilda either takes a bus or gets a ride to one of her many pet projects. Pay attention to the following words of wisdom from this rare gem of a woman. People like her don’t come along very often:

“I made a promise to my mother that I would work on myasthenia gravis-the fatal debilitating illness she died from-till I found out what caused it and how to cure it. I have been asking questions ever since. Twenty-five years ago I started a research project and we are getting closer to finding out the causes. We have been able to cut the death rate from 85% to 5%.

“I also work at the Children’s Hospital in Long Beach, California. When babies who have been abused are brought to the clinic, their soiled clothes are thrown out and they end up being released wrapped in a towel. Can you imagine? When I saw that, I lost my temper. I told the people at the hospital, These children need decent clothes! So they put me in charge. I convinced a yarn company to donate skeins of yarn. Now I have members of different churches knitting beautiful blankets and sweaters for the babies. I also get donations of new clothing. Now every single baby goes home properly clothed, with a pretty new blanket.

“I also fund-raise for the City of Hope. Each year we have a Grand Prix fundraiser for 20 different charitable organizations. Hundreds apply to be included but the rule is that each organization can only participate every three years. A few years ago I made a deal with them to keep myasthenia gravis on their schedule every year. How did I convince them? I told them that I am in my nineties and I can’t afford to wait around three years between cycles.

“I try to fit it all in. What I can’t do at the office I take home. You have to stay busy, otherwise you get stagnant and you start to feel sorry for yourself. I also serve as a guide for the Long Beach Symphony, helping out when the children visit from schools.

“I got started on this path because my mother taught me from the time I was a child that you must always give back to the community in service. We had a little store in a poor neighborhood and my mother was always helping people. I learned it from her.

“There is a lot of goodness in people waiting to come out. One day I was on my way to work. I got off the bus and blacked out. Our office is in a very poor area of the city. Two down-and-out men came over and helped me. They could have stolen my purse and run away, but they didn’t. I looked at them and said, Are you hungry? And they said yes. So I asked them come with me to the diner across the street and eat. But the men said, They won’t let us in. And I said, Oh yes they will!! Watch! We went inside together and I would not take any guff from the waitress about serving them. We had a nice breakfast, then I gave the waitress a $20 bill and told her that she had to feed these men till the money ran out, and I would be back to check. The men ate all week long.

“I live every minute of my life as if it is the last, and I enjoy every second. I have two rules: At my funeral, anyone who sheds a tear will be haunted because I have lived a great life. The other rule is to continue my charity work.

My advice to this generation is-give of yourself. There’s no one who cannot give something. You can take care of a child, volunteer, help your neighbor. No excuses. My mother taught me you never say can’t, and that’s how I live. I have to walk with a cane. Big deal. So I buy myself fancy canes.

“Only by giving do you get back. My mother also taught me to only use the dollar for what good you can do with it, and to never turn away a hungry person.

“I get people to do all kinds of things. I go to the nursing home and have the older women knit for the babies. If someone says they can’t help out, I ask for one Wednesday. But people started saying, don’t let Mathilda ask you for one Wednesday or you’ll be doing one Wednesday for the rest of your life! I have one man who has been doing one Wednesday for 40 years.”

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THIS WEEK’S THREE FAVORITE PHOTOS

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WHAT A PARADE!!

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MORE OF THIS AWESOME PARADE NEXT WEEK!

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Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!

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Click on the links below to go there!

Dora and the Explorers published randomly

Some Things I Learned About Alzheimer’s published randomly

 

04.19.16 Wacky Wonderful Wednesdays!

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Standing out and becoming what your meant to be even in the toughest of circumstances still proves beautiful!

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Ronald Steiger's photo.

by Ronald Steiger

A son took his father to a restaurant to enjoy a delicious dinner. His Father was already a pretty old man, and therefore, a little weak, too. While he was eating, a little bit of food fell from time to time on his shirt and his trousers. The other diners watched the old man with their faces distorted by the disgust, but his son remained in total calm.

Once both guys were done eating, the son, without being remotely ashamed, (helped with absolute peace of mind) helped take his father to the toilet.

He cleaned up his leftovers from his wrinkled face, and tried to wash the stains of food from his clothes; lovingly combed his hair gray and finally cleaned his fathers glasses.

On the way out of the toilet, a profound silence reigned in the restaurant. No one could understand how is it that someone could do the ridiculous in such a manner. The Son was going to pay the bill, but before you leave, a man, also of advanced age, rose from the all diners and asked the son of the old man: ” don’t you think that you’ve left something here? ”

The young man replied: “No, I haven’t missed anything”. Then the stranger said to him :” Yes you’ve left something!

You left here a very important lesson for each child, and a hope for every father!” The entire restaurant was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

One of the biggest honors that exist, is being able to take care of those older adults who cared for us too. Our parents, and all those elderly who sacrificed their lives, with all of their time, money and effort. They deserve our utmost respect. If you also feel respect for older adults, share this story with all your friends.

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Sintra, Portugal

The charming town of Sintra is often recognized for its 19th-century Romantic architecture and the royal estates and castles. The Pena National Palace sits on top of a hill above the city and can be seen from Lisbon on a clear day.

Sintra, Portugal

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Avenue of the Baobabs, Madagascar

This alley of towering baobab trees lines the dirt road in the Menabe region of Madagascar and has become one of the most popular spots for tourists in the area.

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Love Notes

A young child’s after school art project turns into a celebration of love for the whole family.

It’s been over eleven years now. It was a wintry afternoon, the snow swirling around the cedar trees outside, forcing little icicles to form at the tips of the deep green foliage clinging to the branches.

My older son, Stephen, was at school, and Reed, my husband, at work. My three little ones were clustered around the kitchen counter, the tabletop piled high with crayons and markers. Extra long sheets of white paper stretched across the counter as far as their tiny arms could reach. The baby was sound asleep in his crib as Tom, Laura, and Sam labored to create works of art to be shown to Daddy at dinnertime. Tom was perfecting a paper airplane, creating his own insignia with stars and stripes, while Sam worked on a self-portrait, his chubby hands drawing first a head, then legs and arms sticking out where the body should have been. The children mostly concentrated on their work, Tom occasionally tutoring his younger brother on exactly how to make a plane that would fly the entire length of the room.

But Laura, our only daughter, sat quietly, engrossed in her project.

Every once in a while she would ask how to spell a name of someone in our family, then painstakingly form the letters one by one. Next, she would add flowers with small green stems, complete with grass lining the bottom of the page. She finished off each with a sun in the upper right hand corner, surrounded by an inch or two of blue sky. Holding them at eye level, she let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

“What are you making, Honey?” I asked.

She glanced at her brothers before looking back at me.

“It’s a surprise,” she said, covering up her work with her hands.

Next, she taped the top two edges of each sheet of paper together, trying her best to create a cylinder. When she had finished, she disappeared up the stairs with her treasure.

It wasn’t until later that evening that I noticed a “mailbox” taped onto the doors to each of our bedrooms. There was one for Steve. There was one for Tom. She hadn’t forgotten Sam or baby Paul. My heart softened when I saw that Reed and I had one pasted to our door as well, complete with lopsided hearts.

For the next few weeks, we received mail on a regular basis. There were little notes confessing her love for each of us. There were short letters full of tiny compliments that only a seven-year-old would notice. I was in charge of retrieving baby Paul’s letters, page after page of colored scenes including flowers with happy faces.

“He can’t read yet,” she whispered. “But he can look at the pictures.”

Each time I received one of my little girl’s gifts, it brightened my heart.

I was touched at how carefully she observed our moods. When Stephen lost a baseball game, there was a letter telling him she thought he was the best ballplayer in the whole world. After I had a particularly hard day, there was a message thanking me for my efforts, complete with a smiley face tucked near the bottom corner of the page.

One night, just as my husband and I were winding down, readying for bed, I looked across from my room and into the hall. I stared at the mailbox that Laura had made for herself. Suddenly, I realized that our little angel’s mailbox had sat empty all the while the rest of us had enjoyed her love notes. My eyes filled with tears.

Seeing my distress, Reed immediately questioned me about what was troubling me.

A thick lump locked in my throat as I pointed to her empty box. Without saying a word, he knew exactly what I was trying to tell him.

He brushed my hair off my forehead and planted a kiss on my furrowed brow.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

In the weeks that followed, this little girl and her daddy exchanged the sweetest of love notes.

“I love your eyes, Honey,” he’d write. “I noticed how kind you were to baby Paul.” “Thanks for letting Sam have his way this time. It shows how grown up you are.”

In return, her tiny hands penned words of love and support for him, how she loved to see him after a long day of work and how much his tucking her into bed at night meant.

This same little girl is grown now, driving off every day to the community college. But some things about her have never changed. One afternoon only a week or so ago, I found a love note next to my bedside.

“Thanks for always being there for me, Mom,” it read. “I’m glad that we’re the best of friends.”

I couldn’t help but remember the precious child whose smile has brought me countless hours of joy throughout the years. There are angels among us. I know. I live with one.

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THIS WEEK’S THREE FAVORITE PHOTOS

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MOMMY AND ME

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Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!

cooltext1838781539

Click on the links below to go there!

Dora and the Explorers published randomly

Some Things I Learned About Alzheimer’s published randomly

09.23.15 Wacky Wonderful Wednesdays

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David Heard's photo.

by David Heard with Jackie Beebe and Pam Lowe

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. “Your son is here,” she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused.

Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients. Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her, “Who was that man?” he asked.

The nurse was startled, “He was your father,” she answered.

“No, he wasn’t,” the Marine replied. “I never saw him before in my life.”

“Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

“I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed. I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman’s Name? “

The nurse with tears in her eyes answered, “Mr. William Grey………”

The next time someone needs you … just be there!

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Proverbs 31 Ministries's photo.

There I was on the beach my weakness standing beside their strength.

I was on a beach vacation with several friends who have dancer’s legs. I guess you could say I have dancer legs too, if you’re referring to the dancing hippo from the Madagascar movies. I can eat healthy and exercise all day long, but lean legs are just not in my genetic makeup.

When comparisons sneak in it can be hard, worse than hard. It can quite simply make me forget all the strengths I do have. Then, I stop being thankful and become consumed by what I don’t have.

I desperately need God’s truth to bump into my weaknesses every day. Only then, can I stop comparing and start living in the reality of who He’s made me to be. Not perfect. Not even close, but good. – Lysa TerKeurst, Proverbs 31 Ministries

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MORE CHRISTIAN BUMPER STICKERS AND SIGNS

Fear knocked. Faith answered. No one was there.
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Forbidden fruits create many jams.
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Give God what’s right, not what’s left!
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Give Satan an inch and he’ll be a ruler.
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God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.
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God doesn’t want shares of your life; He wants controlling interest!
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God grades on the cross, not the curve.
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God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.
kilroyTHIS WEEKS THREE FAVORITE PHOTOS

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Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!

cooltext1838781539

Click on the links below to go there!

Dora and the Explorers published randomly

Some Things I Learned About Alzheimer’s published randomly