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Tuesday, July 26, 2011
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Cost of a Miracle

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick..and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

" I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money."

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago .

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly.

"And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence, " smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of a miracle for little brothers. "

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

"That surgery," her Mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost...one dollar and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.

In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
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The secret of happiness !!!

Once upon a time.......



A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for 40 days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.



Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the man's attention.



The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn't have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.



"Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something", said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. "As you wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill".



The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was.



"Well", asked the wise man, "Did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?"



The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.



"Then go back and observe the marvels of my world", said the wise man. "You cannot trust a man if you don't know his house".



Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen.



"But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?" asked the wise man. Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.



"Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you", said the wisest of wise men. "The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon" that refers to one's obligations in life.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
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Boss Takes Credit

One day the tortoise met the elephant, who trumpeted, Out of my way, you weakling “I might step on you!".
The tortoise was not afraid and stayed where he was, so the elephant stepped on him, but could not crush him.


Do not boast Mr. Elephant, I am as strong as you are! said the tortoise, but the elephant just laughed. So the
tortoise asked him to come to his hill the next morning.

The next day, before sunrise, the tortoise ran down the hill to the river where he met the hippopotamus, who
was just on his way back to the water after his nocturnal feeding.

Mr Hippo! Shall we have a tug-of-war? I bet I'm as strong as you are!� said the tortoise.

The tortoise laughed at this ridiculous idea, but agreed. The tortoise produced a long rope and told the hippo
to hold it in his mouth until the tortoise shouted�.

Then the tortoise ran back up the hill where he found the elephant, who was getting impatient. He gave the
elephant the other end of the rope and said, When I say hey!' pull, and you'll see which of us is the strongest.

Then he ran halfway back down the hill, to a place where he couldn't be seen, and shouted HEY!. The elephant
and the hippopotamus pulled and pulled, but neither could budge the other “they were of equal strength."

They both agreed that the tortoise was as strong as they were.

Never do what others can do for you.

The tortoise let the others do the work for him while he got the credit.

Moral:Tortoise is you boss and you are meger an elephant...
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Noori: Once upon a light ....



It was the gloomy winter of 2005. My interest in philosophy and arts was growing. As a reaction of my rebellious nature and artistic romanticism, I had moved out of my house and started living in a small room in old Lahore.

My mornings were dedicated to riaz (practice) of classical music and I either painted or read the whole day. Exactly like some typical ‘crazy artist’ character portrayed by Dostoevsky.

One day while playing the harmonium, I saw a little girl who was peeping inside from the old, wooden window. Upon realizing that I had noticed her, she smiled shyly and ran away. She was hardly 12 years old.

I can never forget the glimpse of those curious, lively eyes. The next day, I saw her again playing with other children in the street.

I remember I was holding a canvas and other painting material. We had an eye contact for a split second and exchanged a smile. I entered my room and as I was putting my things away, someone knocked at the door and I heard a very sweet voice call out:

     “Paint walay bhai, mei ander aa jaoon?” (May I come in, painter-brother?)

That sounded innocent beyond imagination. It had been a few months since I was living there and she was my first guest ever. I asked her name and she said:

     “Noori.”

I asked whether she knows the meaning of her name. She replied:

    ‘’Noori ka matlab hai roshni!” (Noori means, light!)

We chatted for about an hour and I was amazed to realize how intelligent she was. She told me that she had been secretly observing me from the window for many days. On asking the reason she said something I did not expect at all:

     “Molvi sahab says painting and music is forbidden. I wanted to see how these forbidden things look like.”

All I could explain to her little mind was that things that don’t hurt anyone and spread love are not forbidden. She started visiting me almost daily for the next couple of months till I lived there. She loved to observe me paint or play music. One day, she came for a while and looked very anxious. She said:

     “Paint walay bhai, my marriage has been fixed. Mother says this is the last year of my childhood.”

I remained silent. It made me really sad but I was not surprised. She was going to be one of those thousands of victims of child-marriage in Pakistan. Then, all of a sudden, she said something that hit me really hard.

     “Paint walay bhai, will you please paint me? I want to save my childhood.”

The next day, I started making her portrait. For some reason, I was really melancholic. She was so impatient that she came again and again to see her image. I used very bright colors and tried to capture her lively smile and those dazzling, little eyes. Finally when I handed her the portrait, she started running towards her house, shouting and calling her friends that her childhood had been saved.

I decided to move back home a few days later. Before leaving, I visited Noori’s house and met her mother. I found out that Noori was the eldest among her four sisters, something her mother told me with grief. Noori was so excited about her portrait that she hung it in the only room of their house.

I remember the last words she said before I left:

     “Paint walay bhai there’s a mistake in this painting. You’ve also painted a candle but there was no candle in that room.”

She was right.

I painted a source of light failing to realize that Noori’s life would remain dark in years to come.

*******************************************************************

A few days back, I was visiting the walled city of Lahore for some research. I went to the narrow streets of the Lahori Gate after so many years and was amazed to see how nothing had changed at all.

By sunset, it had started raining and I was hoping to get some tea from a nearby Dhaaba when I saw him. He was standing under an old, leaf-less tree and was staring very oddly at me. When I noticed him, the stranger started walking towards me, very slowly, as if lost in deep thought. That burnt, disfigured face, strange walk and those expressionless eyes, certainly grabbed my attention. He was staring deep into my eyes as if he recognized me. Holding my cup of tea, I was a bit confused and tried avoiding him but he sat right in front of me and whispered…

     “Paint walaybhai…’’

He was Noori!

Known as Noor, an ordinary, ugly guy who works as a labourer, she now lives pretending to be a man.

She lighted her cigarette and said:

     “My husband burnt my face with acid. An ugly man is still acceptable in society but not an ugly woman.”

Getting married to a drug addict, being brutally tortured every other day and ending up as an acid victim – Noori’s story is not something new for our barbarian society. But what really sets her apart from other victims is what she has turned out to be.

The acid not only burnt her face but also her identity.

She had to be a ‘man’ for her younger sisters, playing a role of not only a bread-winner but also a father figure. She told me how she looked for work but no one was willing to hire an acid-victim.

‘She’ has now been forgotten by everyone.

Only ‘he’ is known.

Noor, a guy who fights with other boys when they tease his sisters, who smokes and plays snooker in the streets and who has a more masculine walk.

     “When I saw there’s no place for Noori anymore, I cut my hair, changed my clothes and that’s how Noor came into being”

Noori’s life is tragic but it could’ve been more so had she waited silently for her death, being locked in a room and ashamed of being an acid-burnt woman.

Instead she decided to fight.

In order to gain her confidence back, she changed her identity because sadly, confidence associated with one gender in our patriarchal society. Owing to her hard work, her sisters are getting an education and that’s the success of her struggle.

Behind the persona of an ugly Noor, lives the strong and beautiful Noori.

I asked her:

     “Do you have any hope for future?”

She didn’t hesitate:

     “No. But I’ll keep walking and maybe someday I’ll say with pride that I’m a woman.”

We talked for hours that night. I walked her to her home. She asked me to wait for a minute and went inside. When she came back, she held that portrait that I had made of her.

The colors were not that bright anymore.

With tears in her eyes she said:

     “Paint walay bhai that’s the only place where Noori lives now.”

I couldn’t help myself either…
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Breakfast at McDonald's

This is a good story and is true, please read it all the way through until the end! (After the story, there are some very interesting facts!):

  I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called, 'Smile.'

   The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought this would be a piece of cake, Literally.

  Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son.. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then
Even my husband did. I did not move an inch.... An overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible 'dirty body' smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men.

  As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was 'smiling'. His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, 'Good day' as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.

  The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation.

  I held my tears as I stood there with them.

  The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.

  He said, 'Coffee is all Miss' because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm).

 
Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman's cold hand..

  He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, 'Thank you.'

 
I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, 'I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope.'

 
I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, 'That is why God gave you to me, Honey, to give me hope..' We held hands for a moment and at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given were we able to give.

 
We are not church goers, but we are believers.

 
That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love. I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand.. I turned in 'my project' and the instructor read it.

 
Then she looked up at me and said, 'Can I share this?' I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings and being part of God share this need to heal people and to be healed. In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald's, my son,the instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.

 
I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn:

 
UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE.

 
Much love and compassion is sent to each and every person who may read this and learn how to
LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS -

 
NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.

There is an Angel sent to watch over you.
 

In order for her to work, you must pass this on to the people you want watched over.

An Angel wrote:
  Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart To handle yourself, use your head..

 
To handle others, use your heart.

God Gives every bird it's food, but He does not throw it into its nest.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
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Who'll Take The Son?


A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art.

They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael.

They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier.

The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art.

The young man held out his package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."

The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting.

The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel.

"We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"

There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the room shouted. "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."

But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"

Another voice shouted angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting.. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"

But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

"We have $10, who will bid $20?"

"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."

"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"

A man sitting on the second row shouted. "Now let's get on with the collection!"

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is, "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
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Steve Jobs inspirational story

When Steve Jobs was born February 24, 1955, in San Francisco, California , his unwed mother decided to put him for adoption because she wanted a girl. So in the middle of the night, his mother called a lawyer named Paul Jobs and said, “We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?”

His mother felt very strongly that he should be adopted by college graduates and when she found out that both his future parents had never graduated from colleges, she refused to sign the adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when his future parents promised that they would send Jobs to college.
He went to college but decided to drop out because it was too expensive. Recalling his time there he said,

I didn’t have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends’ rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple.


Jobs and Apple
At 20, he and a friend (Steve Wozniak) started a company in a garage on April 1, 1976. Later that year, the duo debuted the Apple I at the Homebrew Computer Club in Palo Alto, California. A local store offered to buy 50 machines and to finance the production, the duo had to sell their most expensive possesions. Jobs sold his Volkswagen van while Wozniak sold his Hewlett-Packard scientific calculator.
Jobs named their company – Apple in memory of a happy summer he had spent as an orchard worker in Oregon.
By 1982 however, his company sales sagged in the face of competition from IBM’s new PC. Jobs and Wozniak unveiled their new creation, Lisa to increase the company’s bottom line, only to be another expensive failure.
Not wanting to dwell on these successive failures, they worked on a new machine called the Macintosh. Jobs was reported to commandeered the project, ruthlessly pushing its computer engineers and flying a pirate flag above the building where the team worked.
By 1986 the Mac, which Jobs promised to be ‘insanely great’ was a huge success. After 10 years, starting from 2 kids working in a garage, Apple computer had grown into a $2 billion dollar company with over 4000 employees.
At 30 Jobs, however, was fired from the company he co-founded with Steve Wozniak. He left the company after losing a bitter battle over control with Apple’s CEO John Sculley (whom Jobs had recruited from Pepsi Cola).


After Apple
Apparently both have different views of how the company should be handled and in one meeting Sculley had told security analysts in a meeting that Jobs would have no role in the operations of the company “now or in the future.” When Jobs heard of the message he said, “You’ve probably had somebody punch you in the stomach and it knocks the wind out you and you cannot breathe. The harder you try to breathe, the more you cannot breathe. And you know that the only thing you can do is just relax so you can start breathing again.”
Jobs sold over $20 million of his Apple stock, spent days bicycling along the beach, feeling sad and lost, toured Paris, and journeyed on to Italy.
Recalling this publicly heartbreaking episode Jobs said,
‘I didn’t see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.’
During the next five years he started two companies – NeXTStep and Pixar.
NeXTStep which produces NeXT, $9,995 cube-shaped workstation which aimed to create a workstation for research and higher, didn’t do as well as Jobs had dreamed for. It did poorly and Jobs pulled the plug in 1993.
Pixar, however was a success story. The company started the first computer-animated film, the Toy Story and when Pixar’s stock went public, Jobs became an instant billionaire.


Jobs, back with a vengence
Meanwhile, his old company, Apple was under immense pressure from rival Microsoft and in 1996 posted billions of dollars in losses.

In December 1996 Jobs convinced Apple to buy NeXT and make its software the foundation of the next-generation Mac OS. The technology he developed at NeXT became the catalyst of Apple’s comeback. Initially appointed as Apple’s adviser, Steve Jobs was named Apple’s interim CEO in 1997.

In 2004 he was diagnosed with cancer on his pancreas. Jobs was told that the cancer was incurable and he would only live for another three to six months. Later, a biopsy showed that he actually had a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. He had the surgery and survives.
Under his leadership, Apple returned to profitability and introduced innovations such as the iPod.

Steve Jobs advice
Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work.
And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.
Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma-which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
Friday, July 1, 2011
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There is always the other side ...


A Mother was reading a magazine and her cute little daughter every now and then distracted her. To keep her busy, she tore one page on which was printed the map of the world. She tore it into pieces and asked her to go to her room and put them together to make the map again.

She was sure her daughter would take a lot more time and probably whole of day to get it done. But the little one came back within minutes with perfect map.

When he asked how she could do it so quickly, she said, "Oh Mom, there is a man's face on the other side of the paper. I made the face perfect to get the map right." she ran outside to play leaving the mother surprised.?

Moral :

Perhaps there is always the other side to whatever you experience in this world. This story indirectly teaches a lesson. That is, whenever we come across a challenge or a puzzling situation, look at the other side...and will be surprised to see an easy way to tackle the problem or an acute difficulty.
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