Stories and
Inspirational Messages:
An Afternoon in the Park
There once was a little boy who
wanted to meet God. He knew it was long trip to where God lived, so he
packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a six-pack of root beer and he started
his journey.
When he had gone about three blocks,
he met an old woman. She was sitting in the park just staring at some pigeons.
The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase. He was about to take
a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the old lady looked hungry,
so he offered a Twinkie. She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him.
Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered
a root beer.
Once again she smiled at him. The
boy was delighted!
They sat there all afternoon eating
and smiling, but they never said a word.
As it grew dark, the boy realized
how tired he was and he got up to leave, but before he had gone more than
a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman and gave her a
hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.
When the boy opened the door to
his own house a short time later, his mother was surprised by the look
of joy on his face.
She asked him, "What did you do
today that made you so happy?"
He replied, "I had lunch with God."
But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's got
the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"
Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant
with joy, returned to her home.
Her son was stunned by the look
of peace on her face and he asked, "Mother, what did you do today that
made you so happy?"
She replied, "I ate Twinkies in
the park with God." But before her son responded, she added, "You know,
he's much younger than I expected."
By Julie A. Manhan from A 3rd Serving
of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and
Mark Victor Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
The Obstacle in Our Path
In ancient times, a king had a boulder
placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would
remove the huge rock. Some of the kingdom's wealthiest merchants and courtiers
came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not
keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone
out of the way. Then a peasant came along, carrying a load of vegetables.
On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried
to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining,
he finally succeeded.
As the peasant picked up his load
of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had
been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating
that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway.
The peasant learned what many others
never understand: Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one's
condition.
By Brian Cavanaugh from A Cup of
Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen & Barry Spilchuk
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Big Feet - Bigger Heart
It was an unseasonably hot day.
Everybody it seemed, was looking for some kind of relief, so an ice cream
store was a natural place to stop.
A little girl, clutching her money
tightly, entered the store. Before she could say a word, the store clerk
sharply told her to get outside and read the sign on the door, and stay
out until she put on some shoes. She left slowly, and a big man followed
her out of the store.
He watched as she stood in front
of the store and read the sign: No Bare Feet. Tears started rolling down
her cheeks as she turned and walked away. Just then the big man called
to her. Sitting down on the curb, he took off his size-12 shoes, and set
them in front of the girl saying, "Here, you won't be able to walk in these,
but if you sort of slide along, you can get your ice cream cone."
Then he lifted the little girl up
and set her feet into the shoes. "Take your time," he said, "I get tired
of moving them around, and it'll feel good to just sit here and eat my
ice cream." The shining eyes of the little girl could not be missed as
she shuffled up to the counter and ordered her ice cream cone.
He was a big man, all right. Big
belly, big shoes, but most of all, he had a big heart.
By Anonymous From Brian Cavanaugh's
The Sower's Seeds from A 4th Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright
1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Hanoch McCarty & Meladee
McCarty (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Paco, Come Home
In a small town in Spain, a man
named Jorge had a bitter argument with his young son Paco. The next day
Jorge discovered that Paco's bed was empty - he had run away from home.
Overcome with remorse, Jorge searched
his soul and realized that his son was more important to him than anything
else. He wanted to start over. Jorge went to a well-known store in the
center of town and posted a large sign that read, "Paco, come home. I love
you. Meet me here tomorrow morning."
The next morning Jorge went to the
store, where he found no less than seven young boys named Paco who had
also run away from home. They were all answering the call for love, each
hoping it was his dad inviting him home with open arms.
By Alan Cohen from A 3rd Serving
of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor
Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
If I Had My Child to Raise Over
Again
If I had my child to raise all over
again,
I'd finger-paint more, and point
the fingers less.
I would do less correcting and
more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch,
and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know
to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more
kites.
I'd stop playing serious, and seriously
play.
I would run through more fields
and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd build self-esteem first, and
the house later.
I would be firm less often, and
affirm much more.
I'd teach less about the love of
power,
And more about the power of love.
By Diane Loomans from Condensed
Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen & Patty Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
From - My Sister Kim On (Tue May
12 19:01:51 1998)
A
Sad but True Story
Actually Happened to Her.
You may roll your eyes and ask me
why I'm telling you this story. I'll tell you why when I'm finished.
This happened today at the building across from us at work.
One of our receptionists had been
outside on her break and came in asking someone to call 911. She
had been standing there when all of a sudden she heard screaming coming
from outside the building next door. All these people from that building
(which is under construction) came running towards the sound.
Come to find out, a truck which
had been delivering steel beams had been parked but had rolled into one
of the porta potties. No one was inside the truck. But yes,
there was someone inside the porta potty. Before you laugh, thinking
this is funny, they couldn't move the truck forward. The man continued
to scream. They hurriedly got a fork lift and went to the front of
the truck where they literally pulled the truck away with the lift.
They proceeded to try and get the door of the porta potty but it was crushed.
They had to tear it apart from the side, but still couldn't get the man
out.
Finally, after the firemen found
out that this man was hurt badly, they called an ambulance. The ambulance
personnel took one look at him, stabilized him, and called Air Flight.
This man, who started his day as
every other day, ended up losing both his legs below the knee.
The reason I felt so strongly about
sharing this story is because we never know when life will deal us a terrible
hand. Live the best life you can, enjoy each and every day and always
tell the people around you that you care. It could happen to anyone........
My Sister Kim
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Thinking Outside the Box:
Submitted by Kim Holtzenber
Start with a cage containing five
apes. In the cage, hang a banana on a string and put stairs under
it. Before long, an ape will go to the stairs and start
to climb towards the Banana. As soon as he touches the stairs, spray
all of the apes with cold water. After a while, another ape makes an attempt
with the same result-all the apes are sprayed with cold water. Turn off
the cold water. If, later, another ape tries to climb the stairs, the other
apes will try to prevent it even though no water sprays them.
Now, remove one ape from the cage
and replace it with a new one. The New ape sees the banana and wants to
climb the stairs. To his horror, all of the other apes attack him. After
another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be
assaulted.
Next, remove another of the original
five apes and replace it with a New one. The newcomer goes to the stairs
and is attacked. The previous Newcomer takes part in the punishment
with enthusiasm.
Again, replace a third original
ape with a new one. The new one makes it to the stairs and is attacked
as well. Two of the four apes that beat him have no idea why they were
not permitted to climb the stairs, or why they are participating in the
beating of the newest ape.
After replacing the fourth and fifth
original apes, all the apes which have been sprayed with cold water
have been replaced. Nevertheless, no ape ever again approaches the stairs.
Why not? "Because that's the way it's always been around here."
"Make the most of the best, and
the least of the worst."
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Discouraged?
As I was driving home from work
one day, I stopped to watch a local Little League baseball game that was
being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on
the first-baseline, I asked one of the boys what the score was.
"We're behind 14 to nothing," he
answered with a smile.
"Really," I said. "I have to say
you don't look very discouraged."
"Discouraged?" the boy asked with
a puzzled look on his face. "Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been
up to bat yet."
By Jack Canfield from Condensed
Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen & Patty Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
My Mascot
The nursing aides for the 89-year-old
man planned a surprise party for him. This active and alert retired doctor
had his leg amputated two years ago. It had been a struggle to adjust to
living his life with only one leg, spending most of his time in a wheelchair.
Family, friends and volunteers filled
the brightly decorated room. He looked at the group and signaled a sweet
six-year-old girl, the grandchild of one of his aides, to come over to
him. He reached out and put his arm around her. He introduced her and announced,
"She is my mascot!" He went on to tell the group assembled that he would
never forget the first time she visited. She came in, looked at him and
his folded up pants leg in the wheelchair, and in her charming voice asked,
"Where is your prosthesis?" He was astounded she knew the word. She showed
him her prosthesis and told him her story. When she was three years old,
a man broke into her home, killed her 17-month-old brother and, with a
machete, cut off her leg.
He said this young girl taught him
not to complain and to be grateful for the 88 years during which he had
two legs. They share a very special bond. She feels proud that she was
able to help a very old man. He has a very special smile for the young
girl who walks with joyful and energetic steps, the prosthesis removing
all barriers from her path.
By Hedy J. Dalin from A Cup of Chicken
Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen &
Barry Spilchuk (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Let There Be Peace
A wise old gentleman retired and
purchased a modest home near a junior high school. He spent the first few
weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment . . . then a new school
year began. The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful,
after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every
trash can they encountered. The crashing percussion continued day after
day, until finally the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.
The next afternoon, he walked out
to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street.
Stopping them, he said, "You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express
your exuberance like that. Used to do the same thing when I was your age.
Will you do me a favor? I'll give you each a dollar if you'll promise to
come around every day and do your thing."
The kids were elated and continued
to do a bang-up job on the trash cans. After a few days, the old-timer
greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face. "This
recession's really putting a big dent in my income," he told them. "From
now on, I'll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans." The
noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they did accept his offer and
continued their afternoon ruckus.
A few days later, the wily retiree
approached them again as they drummed their way down the street. "Look,"
he said, "I haven't received my Social Security check yet, so I'm not going
to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?"
"A lousy quarter?" the drum leader
exclaimed. "If you think we're going to waste our time, beating these cans
around for a quarter, you're nuts! No way, mister. We quit!" And the old
man enjoyed peace and serenity for the rest of his days.
By Gentle Spaces News from Condensed
Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen & Patty Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Big B
I nicknamed him Big B; he was my
older brother. We were total opposites and drove each other crazy, but
we also shared much, creating an unbreakable bond between us. We both know
what it was like to believe that nothing we did, no matter how hard we
tried, felt like it was good enough. Everyone who knew Big B adored him.
He had a huge heart and believed in everyone else's goodness - except his
own.
Big B tutored hundreds of kids who
had been labeled by society as stupid, lazy, undisciplined or mentally
challenged. My brother saw within them an ability to make a difference.
He himself had a learning disability; it was his secret. Together he and
his students knew what it felt like to be different in a world that had
yet to understand.
In the last year of Big B's life
he had another challenge to face, his absolute refusal to believe he was
worthy of love. Big B was a beacon of light to all he touched and everybody
knew it - everybody but him.
I was determined to prove to him
that he was worthy of love. As cancer ravaged his body for the sixth and
last time, he finally allowed me to enter his world of pain and confusion.
During the last weeks of his life, only 80 pounds remained of his once
190-pound frame. His eyelids would not close, he was too weak to blink
and his voice was a whisper. All I could do was hold him in my arms and
love him. All he could do was accept it.
Big B was pampered around the clock
and he came to love that. When he was too weak to talk, he would tap his
fingers to motion me to hold his hand. My brother finally knew how to ask
for and receive love! Decades of fights, misunderstandings and the helplessness
of each feeling the other was unreachable had vanished. In the end, he
totally surrendered to the wisdom of a higher power to help him understand
the strange concept of self-love.
During one of our last conversations
he secretly whispered to me, "I really am loved, aren't I?" It was the
missing piece to his life's puzzle. He finally realized that he had the
right to be loved.
By Paula Petrovic from A Cup of
Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen & Barry Spilchuk
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
What's Really Important
A few years ago at the Seattle Special
Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled
at the starting line for the 100-yard dash. At the gun they all started
out, not exactly in a dash, but with the relish to run the race to the
finish and win.
All, that is, except one boy who
stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry.
The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and paused. Then they
all turned around and went back. Every one of them. One girl with Down's
syndrome bent down and kissed him and said, "This will make it better."
Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line.
Everyone in the stadium stood, and
the cheering went on for 10 minutes.
By Author Unknown Submitted by Bob
French from A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by
Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
The Magic of Believing
I'm not old enough to play baseball
or football. I'm not eight yet. My mom told me when you start baseball,
you aren't going to be able to run that fast because you had an operation.
I told Mom I wouldn't need to run that fast. When I play baseball, I'll
just hit them out of the park. Then I'll be able to walk.
By Edward K. McGrath Jr. "An Exceptional
View of Life" from Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by
Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
I "Heard" the Love
When I was growing up I do not
recall hearing the words "I love you" from my father. When your father
never says them to you when you are a child, it gets tougher and tougher
for him to say those words as he gets older. To tell the truth, I could
not honestly remember when I had last said those words to him either. I
decided to set my ego aside and make the first move. After some hesitation,
in our next phone conversation I blurted out the words, "Dad . . . I love
you!"
There was a silence at the other
end and he awkwardly replied, "Well, same back at ya!"
I chuckled and said, "Dad, I know
you love me, and when you are ready, I know you will say what you want
to say."
Fifteen minutes later my mother
called and nervously asked, "Paul, is everything okay?"
A few weeks later, Dad concluded
our phone conversation with the words, "Paul, I love you." I was at work
during this conversation and the tears were
rolling down my cheeks as I finally "heard" the love. As we both sat there
in tears we realized that this special moment had taken our father/son relationship to a new level.
A short while after this special
moment, my father narrowly escaped death following heart surgery. Many
times since, I have pondered the thought, If I did not take the first step
and Dad did not survive the surgery, I would have never "heard" the love.
By Paul Barton from A Cup of Chicken
Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen &
Barry Spilchuk (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Two Brothers
Two brothers worked together on
the family farm. One was married and had a large family. The other was
single. At the day's end, the brothers shared everything equally, produce
and profit.
Then one day the single brother
said to himself, "it's not right that we should share equally the produce
and the profit. I'm alone and my needs are simple."
So each night he took a sack of grain from his bin and crept across the
field between their houses, dumping it into his brother's bin.
Meanwhile, the married brother said
to himself, "It's not right that we should share the produce and the profit
equally. After all, I'm married and I have
my wife and my children to look after me in years to come. My brother has
no one, and no one to take care of his future." So each night he took a
sack of grain and dumped it into his single brother's bin.
Both men were puzzled for years
because their supply of grain never dwindled. Then one dark night the two
brothers bumped into each other. Slowly it dawned on them what was happening.
They dropped their sacks and embraced one another.
By Source Unknown From Brian Cavanaugh's
More Sower's Seeds from Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
The Trouble Tree:
Submitted By Kim Holtzenberg
The carpenter I hired to help me
restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job.
A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now
his ancient pickup truck refused to start.
While I drove him home, he sat in
stony silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we
walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching
tips of the branches with both hands. When opening the door, he underwent
an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he
hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car.
We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about
what I had seen him do earlier. Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied.
"I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure,
troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I
just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the
morning I pick them up again."
"Funny thing is," he smiled, "when
I come out in the morning to pick'em up, there ain't nearly as many as
I remember hanging up the night before."
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
My
Declaration of Self-Esteem:
The following was written in answer
to a 15-year-old girl's question, "How can I prepare
myself for a fulfilling life?"
I am me.
In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. There are people
who have some parts like me but no one adds up exactly like me. Therefore,
everything that comes out of me is authentically mine because I alone choose
it.
I own everything about me - my body, including everything it does; my mind,
including all my thoughts and ideas; my eyes, including the images of all
they behold; my feelings, whatever they might be - anger, joy, frustration,
love, disappointment, excitement; my mouth and all the words that come
out of it - polite, sweet and rough, correct or incorrect; my voice, loud
and soft; all my actions, whether they be to others or myself.
I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears.
I own all my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes.
Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me in
all my parts. I can love me and be friendly with me in all my parts, I
can then make it possible for all of me to work in my best interests.
I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects
that I do not know. But as long as I am friendly and loving to myself,
I can courageously and hopefully look for the solutions to the puzzles
and for ways to find out more about me.
However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and
feel at a given moment in time is me. This is authentic and represents
where I am at that moment in time.
When I review later how I looked and sounded, what I said and did, and
how I thought and felt, some parts may turn out to be unfitting.
I can discard that which is unfitting
and keep that which proved fitting, and invent something new for that which
I discarded.
I can see, hear, feel, think, say and do. I have the tools to survive,
to be close to others, to be productive, to make sense and order out of
the world of people and things outside of me.
I own me and therefore I can engineer me.
I am me and I am okay.
By Virginia Satir from Chicken Soup
for the Soul Copyright 1993 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Rock Concert:
Even without the torn jeans, he
made a scruffy-looking ten year old. His fifth grade classmates had never
seen anyone as poorly dressed and unpolished
as Marco. This was his first day of elementary school in a quaint New England
town of well-to-do families. Marco's parents were migrant fruit pickers and his classmates eyed him with suspicion
for the first part of the day. Even though
they whispered and made comments about his clothes, he didn't seem to notice.
Then came recess and the kickball
game. Marco led off the first inning with a home run, earning him a bit
of respect from his wardrobe critics. Next up to kick was Richard, the
least athletic and most overweight child in the class. After his second strike (amid the groans
of his classmates), Marco edged up to Richard and quietly said, "Forget
them, kid. You can do it!" Richard kicked
a home run and at that precise moment, something began to change in Marco's
class. Over the next few months, Marco was able to teach the class many
new things. Things such as how to tell when fruit was ripe, how to call a wild turkey
and, especially, how to treat other people.
By the time Marco's parents finished
their work in the area, the class was preparing to celebrate Christmas.
While other students brought the teacher
fancy scarves, perfumes and soap, Marco stepped up to the teacher's desk
with a special gift. It was a rock that
he delivered into the teacher's hands which was beautiful and bright. "I
polished it up special," he said.
Years later, the teacher still had
Marco's rock on her desk. At the beginning of each school year, she would
tell her class about the gentle boy
who taught her and her class not to judge a book by its cover. And that
it's what`s on the inside of others that truly
counts.
By From This Little Light of Mine
from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield,
Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Roles - and How We Play Them:
Whenever I'm disappointed with my
spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying
out for a part in a school play. His mother
told me that he had his heart set on being in it, though she feared he
would not be chosen. On the day the parts were announced, I went with her
to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining, with pride and excitement.
"Guess what, Mum," he shouted, and then said those words that remain a
lesson to me: "I've been chosen to clap and cheer."
By Marie Curling from A 3rd Serving
of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor
Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
You Are a Marvel:
Each second we live is a new and
unique moment of the universe that will never be again . . . And what do
we teach our children? That two and two
make four, and that Paris is the capital of France.
We should say to each of them: Do
you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years
that have passed, there has never been
another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the
way you move.
You may become a Shakespeare, a
Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you
are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like
you, a marvel?
We must all work to make the world
worthy of its children.
By Pablo Casals from Condensed Chicken
Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen &
Patty Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
Lessons From Children:
Submitted by Dale Moline
"Butterfly Kisses"
We often learn the most from our
children. Some time ago, a friend of mine 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 tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift
to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy."
He was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again
when he found that the box was empty. He yelled at her, "Don't you know
that when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something
inside of it?" The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes
and said, "Oh, Daddy it's not empty. I blew kisses into the
box. All for you, Daddy." The father was crushed. He
put his arms around his little girl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The Most Caring Child"
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia
once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose
of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner
was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly
gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry,
the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap,
and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said
to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him
cry."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What It Means to Be Adopted"
Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders
were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture
had a different color hair than the other family members. One child
suggested that he was adopted and a little girl named Jocelynn Jay said,
"I know all about adoptions because I was adopted." "What does it
mean to be adopted?" asked another child. "It means," said
Jocelynn, "that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
"Thank You for Believing Me Well"
As a young social worker in a New
York City psychiatric clinic, I was asked to see Roz, a 20-year-old woman
who had been referred to us from another psychiatric facility. It was an
unusual referral in that no information was received ahead of her first
appointment. I was told to "play it by ear." and to figure out what her
problems were and what she needed.
Without a diagnosis to go on, I
saw Roz as an unhappy, misunderstood young woman who hadn't been listened
to in her earlier therapy. Her family situation was unpleasant. I didn't
see her as disturbed, but rather as lonely and misunderstood. She responded
so positively to being heard. I worked with her to start a life worth living
- to find a job, a satisfying place to live and new relationships. We hit
it off well, and she started making important changes in her life right
away.
The records from the previous psychiatric
facility arrived a month after Roz and I began our successful work together.
To my complete surprise, her records were several inches thick, describing
a number of psychiatric hospitalizations. Her diagnosis was "paranoid schizophrenic,"
with a comment on her being "hopeless."
That had not been my experience
with Roz at all. I decided to forget those pieces of paper. I never treated
her as if she had that "hopeless" diagnosis. (It was a lesson for me in
questioning the value and certainty of diagnoses.) I did find out about
the horrors for Roz of those hospitalizations, of being drugged, isolated
and abused. I also learned a lot from her about surviving such traumatic
circumstances.
First Roz found a job, then a place
to live away from her difficult family. After several months of working
together, she introduced me to her husband-to-be, a successful businessman
who adored her.
When we completed our therapy,
Roz gave me the gift of a silver bookmark and a note that said, "Thank
you for believing me well."
I have carried that note with me
and I will for the rest of my life, to remind me of the stand I take for
people, thanks to one brave woman's triumph over a "hopeless" diagnosis.
By Judy Tatelbaum from Chicken Soup
for the Soul at Work Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen,
Maida Rogerson, Martin Rutte & Tim Clauss
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
A Brother
Like That
A friend of
mine named Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas
present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin
was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it. "Is this your car, Mister?"
he asked.
Paul nodded.
"My brother gave it to me for Christmas." The boy was astounded. "You mean
your brother gave it to you and it didn't cost you nothing? Boy, I wish..."
He hesitated.
Of course
Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a
brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Paul all the way down to
his heels.
"I wish,"
the boy went on, "that I could be a brother like that."
Paul looked
at the boy in astonishment, then impulsively he added, "Would you like
to take a ride in my automobile?"
"Oh yes,
I'd love that."
After a short
ride, the boy turned and with his eyes aglow, said, "Mister, would you
mind driving in front of my house?"
Paul smiled
a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his
neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong
again. "Will you stop where those two steps are?" the boy asked.
He ran up
the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard him coming back, but he was
not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him
down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed
to the car.
"There she
is, Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for
Christmas and it didn't cost him a cent. And some day I'm gonna give you
one just like it...then you can see for yourself all the pretty things
in the Christmas windows that I've been trying to tell you about."
Paul got
out and lifted the lad to the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older
brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday
ride.
That Christmas
Eve, Paul learned whatJesus meant when he had said: "It is more blessed
to give...
By Dan Clark
from Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1993 by Jack Canfield and Mark
Victor Hansen (TOP)
(Back to Stories Index)
The Flower
For some time
I have had a person provide me with a rose boutonniere to pin on the lapel
of my suit every Sunday. Because I always got a flower on Sunday morning,
I really did not think much of it. It was a nice gesture that I appreciated
but it became routine. One Sunday, however, what I considered ordinary
became very special.
As I was
leaving the Sunday service a young man approached me. He walked right up
to me and said, "Sir, what are you going to do with your flower?"
At first I did not know what he was talking about, but then I understood.
I said, "Do
you mean this?" as I pointed to the rose pinned to my coat.
He said,
"Yes sir. I would like it if you are just going to throw it away." At this
point I smiled and gladly told him that he could have my flower, casually
asking him what he was going to do with it. The little boy, who was probably
less than 10 years old, looked up at me and said, "Sir, I'm going to give
it to my granny. My mother and father got divorced last year. I was living
with my mother, but when she married again, she wanted me to live with
my father. I lived with him for a while, but he said I could not stay,
so he sent me to live with my grandmother. She is so good to me. She cooks
for me and takes care of me. She has been so good to me that I want to
give that pretty flower to her for loving me."
When the
little boy finished I could hardly speak. My eyes filled with tears and
I knew I had been touched in the depths of my soul. I reached up and unpinned
my flower. With the flower in my hand, I looked at the boy and said, "Son,
that is the nicest thing I have ever heard, but you can't have this flower
because it's not enough. If you'll look in front of the pulpit, you'll
see a big bouquet of flowers. Different families buy them for the church
each week. Please take those flowers to your granny because she deserves
the very best."
If I hadn't
been touched enough already, he made one last statement and I will always
cherish it. He said, "What a wonderful day! I asked for one flower but
got a beautiful bouquet."
By Pastor
John R. Ramsey from A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright
1995 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
Note by Webmaster:
Isn't it so true that when we come to the "Living Waters" for just a small
drink of refreshment that Christ in His ultimate Love supplies freely and
gives us not just a small cup but a cup overflowing.
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Missed Opportunities
I had offered
to watch my 3-year-old daughter, Ramanda, so that my wife could go out
with a friend. I was getting some work done while Ramanda appeared to be
having a good time in the other room. No problem, I figured. But then it
got a little too quiet and I yelled out, "What are you doing, Ramanda?"
No response. I repeated my question and heard her say, "Oh...nothing."
Nothing? What does "nothing" mean?
I got up
from my desk and ran out into the living room, whereupon I saw her take
off down the hall. I chased her up the stairs and watched her as her little
behind made a hard left into the bedroom. I was gaining on her! She took
off for the bathroom. Bad move. I had her cornered. I told her to turn
around. She refused. I pulled out my big, mean, authoritative Daddy voice,
"Young lady, I said turn around!"
Slowly, she
turned toward me. In her hand was what was left of my wife's new lipstick.
And every square inch of her face was covered with bright red (except her
lips of course)!
As she looked
up at me with fearful eyes, lips trembling, I heard every voice that had
been shouted to me as a child. "How could you...You should know better
than that...How many times have you been told...What a bad thing to do..."
It was just a matter of my picking out which old message I was going to
use on her so that she would know what a bad girl she had been. But before
I could let loose, I looked down at the sweatshirt my wife had put on her
only an hour before. In big letters it said, "I'M A PERFECT LITTLE ANGEL!"
I looked back up into her tearful eyes and instead of seeing a bad girl
who didn't listen, I saw a child of God...a perfect little angel full of
worth, value and a wonderful spontaneity that I had come dangerously close
to shaming out of her.
"Sweetheart,
you look beautiful! Let's take a picture so Mommy can see how special you
look." I took the picture and thanked God that I didn't miss the opportunity
to reaffirm what a perfect little angel He had given me.
By Nick Lazaris
from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield,
Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Nintendo Master
When I first
saw you, I thought - Nintendo Master. There was this intensity about you.
Your piercing blue eyes and the way your hands moved rapidly along the
control buttons were subtle hints of your expert skill.
You didn't
appear too different from all of the other video-crazed 10-year-olds out
there, but you were. I guess the fact that it was summer, and we were both
stuck in the oncology ward of the hospital cruelly betrayed the normalcy
with which you tried to present yourself. Or maybe it was the fact that
we were prematurely robbed of the innocence of childhood, and it comforted
me to know that there was someone else out there just like me. I can only
speculate, but all I know for sure is that I was drawn to your energy and
zest for life.
That was
the summer of my first post-cancer surgeries. The doctors were trying to
fix my left hip joint, which had shattered under the intense bombardments
of chemotherapy treatments. It wasn't the only thing that had shattered.
I had misplaced my usual optimistic attitude about life and was surprised
at how nasty I could be. This did not help me endear myself to anyone.
My surgery
went "well," the doctors said, but I was in excruciating pain. (The ever-present
differing perspective of doctor and patient is an amazing thing.)
I saw you
again in physical therapy, realizing only then the extent of what cancer
did to you. I wanted to scream, "Let him go back upstairs and play his
video games, you idiots!" But I just sat there in stunned silence. I watched
you get up and start walking with the aid of the parallel bars. Prior to
your entrance into the room, I sat in my wheelchair wallowing in self-pity.
I thought, "Wasn't the cancer enough? Now my hip is screwed up, and I really
don't care anymore. If I get up, it is going to kill me."
You will
never know me, but you are my hero, Nintendo Master. With such courage
and poise, you got up on your one remaining leg. Some might have the audacity
to call you disabled or even crippled, but you are more complete than many
can ever wish to be. After you had your walk for the day, a walk that was
perfectly executed on your part, and you were safely tucked into your bed
enjoying your video games once again, I decided that it was about time
that I got up and took a walk myself. You see, Nintendo Master, it dawned
on me then that you had innately known what it takes most of a lifetime
to grasp - life is like a game, you can't win them all and yet the game
goes on, forcing all to play it. Nintendo Master, you play it better than
most!
By Katie Gill
from Chicken Soup for the Surviving Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield,
Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Aubery & Nancy Mitchell, R.N.
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
Lady, Are
You Rich?
They huddled inside the storm door - two children in ragged outgrown coats.
"Any old papers, lady?"
I was busy. I wanted to say no - until I looked down at their feet. Thin
little sandals, sopped with sleet. "Come in and I'll make you a cup of
hot cocoa." There was no conversation. Their soggy sandals left marks upon
the hearthstone.
I served them cocoa and toast with jam to fortify against the chill outside.
Then I went back to the kitchen and started again on my household budget...
The silence in the front room struck through to me. I looked in.
The girl held the empty cup in her hands, looking at it. The boy asked
me in a flat voice, "Lady...are you rich?"
"Am I rich? Mercy, no!" I looked at my shabby slip covers.
The girl put her cup back in its saucer - carefully. "Your cups match your
saucers." Her voice was old, with a hunger that was not of the stomach.
They left then, holding their bundles of papers against the wind. They
hadn't said thank you. They didn't need to. They had done more than that.
Plain blue pottery cups and saucers. But they matched. I tested the potatoes
and stirred the gravy. Potatoes and brown gravy, a roof over our heads,
my man with a good steady job - these things matched, too.
I moved the chairs back from the fire and tidied the living room. The muddy
prints of small sandals were still wet upon my hearth. I let them be. I
want them there in case I ever forget again how very rich I am.
By Marion
Doolan from A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by
Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
(TOP) (Back to Stories Index)
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