A New Puppy

One day an eight year old boy went to the pet store with his dad to buy a puppy. The store manager showed them to a pen where five little furry balls huddled together.
After a while, the boy noticed one of the litter all by itself in an adjacent pen. The boy asked, "Why is that puppy all alone?"
The manager explained, "That puppy was born with a bad leg and would be crippled for life, so we're going to have to put him to sleep."
"You're going to kill this little puppy?" the boy said sadly while patting it.
"You have to realize that this puppy would never be able to run and play with a boy like you."
After a short converation with his boy, the dad told the manager that they wanted to buy the puppy with the bad leg.
"For the same amount of money, you could have one of the healthy ones. Why do you want this one?"
To answer the manager's question, the boy bent over and pulled up the pants on his right leg, exposed the brace underneath and said, "Mister, I want this one because I understand what he's going through."

 Rebecca

Rebecca is 7 years old today. For someone so young, she is so clever to be able to successfully live in two different worlds.
In the outside world, she is a pitiful little bitty thing in a wheelchair.
"Can she walk?" No, she cannot sit up or roll over either.
"Is she awake?" Actually this is about as alert as she gets.
Puzzled looks from strangers who walk up and talk to her and she doesn't respond. She doesn't hear you.
"Can she sign?" No, she's blind, too.
"You mean she can't hear or see?" Well, she sort of hears background sounds and sort of recognizes familiar voices but she doesn't understand words.
"Does she talk?" No.
"What is she doing?" That's a seizure. "Oh".
"What does she like to eat?" She's fed with a g-tube. "Oh".
"What is she going to do when she grows up?" The same as she is doing now.
"How come her head is so small?" That's her disability.

In her real world, she is the happiest kid in town. All it takes is a touch and you are rewarded with a huge smile. Spend some time snuggling and playing and the rewards are even greater.
Unlike her brothers and sister, she always likes my "cooking", happily wears whatever cute outfit I decide is right for the day, and never complains about my singing.

She does have opinions. She never crys to get attention but can holler up a storm - and may have a smile on her face while she is being her loudest. If she doesn't want to get into the swing that hangs from the doorway, she can draw up her little legs so you can't get her into it no matter what. It is okay if she falls asleep in the swing but she'd better not wake up there because, if you don't notice and get her moved while she is asleep, she'll awaken and stomp her feet and yell.
Oh, just because you think it's time for bed doesn't mean that Rebecca is tired, too. Might just as well leave her sitting in her chair in the dark because if you put her to bed, she'll roll onto her back and make noise until you give in - and grin at you when she wins.

She knows her favorite people and interacts with each of them differently. Big sister gets smiles if she plays "footsie" but gets hollered at if she tries to be a hair stylist. Babysitter has never gotten Becca into the swing because Becca likes to cuddle on her big warm bosom. Daddy (my boyfriend) is good for some rollicking games with lots of loud singing. She rarely falls asleep on my lap because she expects me to be physically active with her and she's ready for action.

She knows that shoes means she is going somewhere and that the bus means it's school. That's a great place because she has so much to do and so many friends. There will be wind on her face at recess and lots of noise in the cafeteria at lunch.

All of these evidences of awareness are her highest score on the most recent school evaluation - "emerging memory" - functioning at the 3 month level. Good thing we know her personally and not just from the reports.

Anywhere we go is exciting - even if she has no idea where we are, what we are doing, or why we are there. She knows it isn't home and it isn't school and it must be a good time. Her first day of each camping trip is spent wiggling and laughing at the adventure of it all. At home she can sleep in half the morning but camping means sleeping with Mom so she has to wake up early and play (ugh - so it's not ALL fun for me).

Unlike her brothers and sisters, she still fits on our laps and wants to be there. Grandpa particularly likes that she is still his little girl because I certainly am not anymore! Actually, holding Becca is a pretty good excuse for sitting in the recliner and looking at the messy house.
Gretchen Kohl

 Special needs

If I have special needs, Remember.........
they are special, but I am not.
I am not a "special child", but a child with special needs.
Be sensitive, and make allowances.
But whenever possible,
treat me like all the rest.
Don't let those special needs be all you see of me.
Give me the dignity of living
with the same rules as others.
Not set apart or different, except where I must be.
Keep me and others from using handicaps!
Sheryl

 Two Nickels and Five Pennies

When an ice cream sundae cost much less, a boy entered a coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table, and the waitress was impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said angrily. The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream." The waitress brought the ice cream and walked away. The boy finished, paid the cashier, and departed. When the waitress came back, she swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies-her tip.

 Special Occasions

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion".
"Well, I guess this is the occasion." He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician.
His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special.
I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event - such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends'.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing - I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with, someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write, one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them.
I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.
Every day, every minute, every breath truly is...a gift from God.
by Ann Wells

 Barney

A four-year-old was at the pediatrician for a check up.
As the doctor looked down her ears with an otoscope,
he asked, "Do you think I'll find Big Bird in here?"
The little girl stayed silent. Next, the doctor took a
tongue depressor and looked down her throat. He asked,
"Do you think I'll find the Cookie Monster down there?"
Again, the little girl was silent. Then the doctor put a
stethoscope to her chest. As he listened to her heartbeat,
he asked, "Do you think I'll hear Barney in there?" "Oh,
no!" the little girl replied. "Jesus is in my heart.
Barney's on my underpants."
Author unknown

 The Gold Box

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 it under their Christmas 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, and again begged her forgiveness.
My friend told me that he kept that gold box by his bed for years. Whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each of us as parents has been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children. No more precious possession could anyone hold...
Author unknown.

 You are Worthy

Do not undermine your worth
by comparing yourself with others.
It is because we are different
that each of us is special.

Do not set your goals
by what other people deem important.
Only you know
what is best for you.

Do not take for granted
the things closest to your heart.
Cling to them as you would your life,
for without them,
life is meaningless.

Do not let your life
slip through your fingers
by living in the past
nor for the future.
By living your life one day at a time,
you live all the days of your life.

Do not give up
when you still have something to give.
Nothing is really over
until the moment you stop trying.

It is a fragile thread
that binds us to each other.

Do not be afraid to encounter risks.
It is by taking chances
that we learn how to be brave.

Do not shut love out of your life
by saying it is impossible to find.

The quickest way to receive love
is to give love;
The fastest way to lose love
is too hold it too tightly;
In addition,
the best way to keep love
is to give it wings.

Do not dismiss your dreams.
To be without dreams
is to be without hope;
To be without hope
is to be without purpose.

Do not run through life
so fast that you forget
not only where you have been,
but also where you are going.
Life is not a race,
but a journey
to be savored
each step of the way.
Author unknown

It Worked!

Charles Plumb, a US Navy Academy graduate, was a jet fighter pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile.
Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent the next six years in a Communist prison.
He survived that ordeal and now lectures about lessons learned from that experience.
One day, when he and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, and man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Nam from the carrier, Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"
"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.
"Oh, I was the one who packed your parachute," the man replied.
Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man smiled and said, "Yep, I guess it worked!"
Plumb assured him, "It sure did work -- if your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."
Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about the man who had packed his parachute. Plumb kept wondering what the man might have looked like in a Navy uniform. "I wondered how many times I might have passed him on the Kitty Hawk. I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said good morning, how are you or anything, because you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."
Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands the fate of someone he didn't know.
Now Plumb asks his audiences, "Who's packing your chute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day.
Plumb also points out that we all need many kinds of parachutes. We need mental, emotional and spiritual parachutes as well.
While a prisoner of war, Plumb called on all of these supports before reaching safety. His experience reminds us all to prepare ourselves to weather whatever storms lie ahead - and to recognize and appreciate all of those people who pack our parachutes everyday, for they are the ones who truly deserve the credit for our survival.
"Packing Parachutes" in Insights Into Excellence, Executive Books 

 Liza

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liza who was suffering from a disease and needed a blood transfusion from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying "Yes, I'll do it if it will save Liza."
As the transfusion progressed, he lay in the bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks.
Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?"
Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor, he thought he was going to have to give Liz all of his blood.
Author Unknown

 Dorothy

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz.
I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke! I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her Name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank.
Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
"Absolutely," said the professor, "In your careers you will meet many people. All are significant and they deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'Hello.'"
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
Author Unknown

 Jeremiah

I was taking my usual morning walk and was deep in thought about how I would handle a troubling situation when a garbage truck pulled up beside me. I thought the driver was going to ask for directions when he rolled down the window. Instead, he showed me a picture of a cute little five-year-old boy. "This is my grandson, Jeremiah." he said. "He's on a life-support system in a Phoenix hospital."
Thinking he would next ask for a contribution toward his hospital bills, I reached for my wallet. But he shook his head.
"I'm asking everybody I can to say a prayer for him. Would you say one for him, please?"
I did. And my problems didn't seem very important that day.
Author Unknown

The Story of Little Bear

Once upon a time, my dear, there was a little bear whose name was Ted. He was a very special little bear, for his was the best boy in the whole world... well, at least in the Before time. Today, you see, he was a sad little bear. He sat at the side of the road and looked as though a tear would drown him. He was the scruftiest, muftiest little bear you ever did see and just by looking at him you would never know how special he was. It just so happened that Nana Bear was walking down the street on her way to town when she saw Little Ted looking ever so sad and stopped to talk to him.
"Why are you so sad, Little Ted?" said Nana Bear kindly. "You used to be the happiest little bear in the land." "That was in the Before times," answered Little Ted, sad-as-sad could be, "I don't have my boy any more. I've lost him, I'm never going to find him again and I am so unhappy."
"Well," said Nana Bear. "Suppose you tell me all about it." And she sat down on the tree stump by the side of the road, settling herself in quite comfortably and waited for Ted to tell her his story. But he didn't say a word.
A big tear started to roll down his face and straight away he stopped it and was Very Very Brave.
"Why, Little Ted, whatever are you doing?" asked Nana Bear, very puzzled, seeing the tear stop rolling on an instant and the Very Very Brave face freeze Ted's face like concrete on a very hot day.
"I'm being Very Very Brave," answered Little Ted, bravely. "Very Brave," he added on, just to make sure she knew what a good little bear he was being.
"Well," said Nana Bear. "But WHY are you being Very Very Brave? It doesn't look like it makes you very happy and I am sure I don't know what good of a thing being Very Very Brave is if it doesn't make you happy."
"The Bear by the Field said I must," said Little Ted, wisely. "He said that losing your boy can be Very Very Hard and I must be Very Very Brave."
"Oh," said Nana Bear, thoughtfully. "Tell me, Little Ted, what else did the Bear by the Field tell you?" "Well," said Little Ted, remembering as best as he could. "He said that I would get another boy soon and that would make everything better."
"Oh," said Nana Bear, even more thoughtfully. "And would it make everything better if you got another boy right away?" Little Ted sat mournfully. "No one could ever be the best boy that my boy was. He was wonderful and he loved me ever so much. I don't think any other boy would ever be as good." "Ah," said Nana Bear, "I see. And what else else did the Bear by the Field tell you?"
"He said that I would feel much better soon. 'It's just a matter of time' he told me, 'just a matter of time.. But Nana Bear, I don't want to forget my boy. I want to remember what a nice boy he was. Does that mean in time I will forget all about him?"
"Oh, I don't think so, Little Ted," said Nana Bear. "When you love someone as much as you loved your boy, I don't think you'll ever forget him. What else did the Bear by the Field say?" "He didn't," said Little Ted, sadly, "I wanted to talk about my boy and he didn't. I said I wished I had my boy back and he said he thought the corn would grow nicely. I said I wanted to remember my boy forever and he said what nice weather we are having. I suppose that all the bears are tired of hearing me talking about my boy."
"Oh Little Ted," said Nana Bear, "Come up here this very instant and not a second longer."
Little Bear climbed up on Nana Bear's lap. He was very glad to be there because it was hard being Very Very Brave all the time and it was so good to have someone hug and cuddle him again. He did not realize what an all-alone feeling it had been without his boy to hug him and kiss him. He snuggled down in Nana Bear's lap, his heart aching for the missing of his boy.
"Should I tell you what I think, Little Ted?" she said softly as she stroked his little bear head. "I think that your boy would want you to cry if you were sad. If your boy was peeking from behind those bushes and saw your Very Very Brave face, why he might not even know it was you.
"And I will tell you what else I think... Maybe one day you will find another boy to love and who will love you very much. But the little soft fuzzy spot in your heart that belongs to your boy will always be just for him and not for your new boy. Your new boy will have his very own place that you will make just for him.
"And I will tell you what else I think. Time is a taker of many things, but not a taker of heartache. All the time in the world will not stop you missing your boy. But time cannot steal your memories and cannot take away all the good times you ever had in your whole lives together.
"And, Little Ted, of course you must talk about him. You loved him so much and it would be hard not to talk about him. You must pick your very good friends who loved him ever so much and you can talk about him together. And there's a spot right here on my lap whenever a your boy-thought needs to be spoken."
"Oh thank you, Nana Bear," breathed Little Ted softly, "Thank you so much for telling me that. And Nana Bear, tell me this, just one more thing, can I be happy again one day? Am I supposed to be sad for my boy forever?"
"Oh what a wonderful thing that will be when you have happy thoughts," said Nana Bear. "After all, you have only lost your boy for a short while. Boys aren't like socks in the dryer, never to be seen again. In the Big Cloud in the Sky, in the Aftertimes, you will see him again. In the meantime, you have to love the world for him because he cannot do it by himself anymore. When you see a little butterfly flying around, you must look at it for your boy, and laugh for him and dance with it for him. You must live all the happiness left in the world and store it up in your heart to take for him when you see him again. When you are ready, you can begin to store those happy thoughts, Little Ted, when you are ready."
And a big tear rolled down Little Ted's face, and another and another. Pretty soon, there were so many tears he made a puddle, and the puddle made a bath. Pretty soon, Ted was all wet and before you know it, he was clean as a whistle and didn't look anywhere near as scruftie-muftie as he did before. And the tears made the flowers grow and the butterflies come and before you knew it the world was clean and sparking and wonderful again.
Did Little Ted every stop missing his boy? Oh, no, never in a million years. But he learned that it is a fine thing to cry and get the fur all nice and clean and he learned that tears grow flowers and flowers bring butterflies. And Little Ted learned that one day, in a long and far off time a bear and his boy would see each other again, but until that time he would keep his eye out for joy-things to store up and take as a great and wonderful gift to the best boy who ever lived in this whole wide world.
Author unknown

 THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FLOWER
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath 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 down
And 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 side
And 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 colors: 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 time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As 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 see
A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
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 nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

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