Million Dollar Smile

Each year this organization of men came to the Children's Home Society Orphanage.

All the boys and girls would get two dollars each. The men would take us in groups of five to downtown Jacksonville, Florida, to do some Christmas shopping.

I remember going with this one gentleman three years in a row. He would take us shopping, then he would ask us if we wanted to go to the movies. I remember watching him closely when we got to the theater. I watched him as he pulled out his wallet to pay for our tickets. He looked over at me and just smiled with his great big smile. During the movie he bought us all the popcorn and candy that we wanted. I remember thinking how wonderful it was that someone would spend their own money on someone like us.

We all laughed at the funny movie and had a really good time. The man would laugh really hard and then he would pat me on top of the head. Then he would laugh really hard again and reach over and rustle my hair. I would just look at him, and he would just keep smiling with his great big wonderful smile.

That trip to the movies was the first time in my life that I ever felt as if someone really cared about me. It was a wonderful feeling which I have never forgotten, even to this day, decades later. I don't know if that man felt sorry for me, but I do know this: If I ever win the big lottery, that man will find out that he carried a million-dollar smile.

This is why I believe it is so important that organizations and clubs, such as the Shriners and Jaycees, continue to reach out and help the children who are less fortunate. In my particular case, it was this one man's personal act of kindness that will be remembered for years to come. Just one little simple act of kindness.

It is these little-tiny acts that will insure that when some confused child goes off the deep end one day, he or she will forever remember that small glimmer of kindness that was shown to them by someone. That little speck of hope, that little dim light of goodness that will forever be stuck somewhere in the far reaches of their confused mind.

I thank you, kind Sir, for a memory which I now share with my children and grandchildren fifty years later.

Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.

Finding Center

As the yellow corn pollen fell to the New Mexico earth, the words of the medicine man whispered clearly in my mind, "Bless the place that we chose, for it is the center of all that is to be." Prayerfully, I stood on that place and drank in the beauty and significance of this moment. The late afternoon sun wrapped the August rain columns with a golden cloak that swept cool mist over the high-desert mountains. This pristine valley, that stretched and rolled before me, would now be home to a new purpose.

The cool breeze filled my senses, bringing the scent of the coming rain. As I breathed in the fragrance, my heart stirred with gratitude in recognition of the honor that was being bestowed on this land. Oso Vista Ranch had been chosen to host the building of a traditional Navajo spiritual dwelling, called a Hogan.

The potency of this honor began to reveal itself when, earlier that day, a Navajo Hogan builder handed me a hammer and stake explaining that a Hogan is built from the center out. "When you find the center," he said, "mark that spot and then we will begin." My spirit swooned with the metaphorical perfection of this gentle command.

To find that center, I had stood in spiritual partnership with my dear friend Howard, Navajo medicine man from the Sleeping Rock clan, born for the Mexican clan. I waited patiently as he chose the spot that would not only be the physical center but also the spiritual center of this traditional Navajo Hogan.

This would be a female Hogan: eight-sided, log walls with a single door to the east, no windows and a domed ceiling with a smoke hole in the center. Structures such as these have been the center of Navajo family and spiritual life for hundreds of years.

A female Hogan's walls, being nine logs high, symbolize the nine months of pregnancy and its corner logs, notched together, represent a woman's hands, fingers intertwined over her expectant belly. Every aspect of its shape, construction, dedication, interior and the manner that one moves within it, has significance. It embodies the heart and soul of the Navajo people. The most powerful place in this Hogan is the center. It is in the center that all healing takes place.

The powerful richness that this experience has brought to my work as a purpose coach and consultant to Bob Proctor's programs has been profound. It has strengthened my understanding that the spiritual center to our lives, the place from which we must build and in which all healing takes place, is our life purpose.

The discovery and expression of our purpose is why we are here. Living it brings meaning and fulfillment like we have never before experienced. Every aspect of our lives and every project that we choose will breathe with new joy when we find that center.

As I watch Oso Vista Ranch emerge as a Navajo cultural and spiritual healing center for the Ramah Navajo community and the people of the world, I realize just how much of my purpose is expressed through this project. Culture, family, healing, personal growth, purposeful living and service are my passions. I value them above all other things.

Building a project based on these values has given my life immeasurable joy and meaning. It is an experience that has caused a Renaissance in my soul. I am, more than any other time in my life, completely fulfilled.

I've found that shifting my life to the foundation of purpose has filled every void and healed every wound. It has added a depth, richness and bliss to my life that can me achieved only by creating alignment between my life's work, my divine essence and my connection to the Source of all that is.

As our lives touch for this brief moment, I pass the hammer and stake to you and say earnestly, "Find your center and build from there."

Margaret Merrill

Margaret is a success coach and author.

The Happiest Day Of My Life

It started innocently.

Many years ago I worked in an office with large windows facing a busy overpass. I was standing by one of those windows one day when a woman in a passing car looked up and made eye contact. Naturally, I waved.

A chuckle escaped my lips as she turned and tried to identify me. It was the beginning of a year of window antics. When things were slow, I would stand in the window and wave at the passengers who looked up. The strange looks made me laugh and stress was washed away.

Co-workers began to take an interest. They would stand from view, watch the reactions I received, and laugh along.

Late afternoon was the best time - rush hour traffic filled the overpass with cars and transit buses, and providing lots of waving material for the end-of-day routine. It didn't take long to attract a following - a group of commuters who passed the window every day and looked up at the strange waving man.

There was a man with a construction truck who would turn on his flashing-yellow light and return my wave, the carpool crowd, and the business lady with her children fresh from day care. But my favorite was the transit bus from the docks that passed my window at 4:40pm. It carried the same group every day, and they became by biggest fans.

After a while, waving became boring, so I devised ways to enhance my act. I made signs: "Hi," "Hello," "Be Happy!" and posted them in the window and waved. I stood on the window ledge in various poses, created hats from paper and file-folders, made faces, played peek-a-boo by bouncing up from below the window ledge, stuck out my tongue, tossed paper planes in the air, and once went into the walkway over the street and danced while co-workers pointed to let my fans know I was there.

Christmas approached, and job cuts were announced. Several co-workers would lose their jobs, and everyone was feeling low. Stress in the office reached a high. A miracle was needed to repair the damage caused by the announcements.

While working a night shift, a red lab jacket attracted my attention. I picked it up and turned it in my hands. In a back corner where packing material was kept, I used my imagination and cut thin, white sheets of cloth-like foam into trips and taped them around the cuffs and collar, down the front, and around the hem. A box of foam packing and strips of tape became Santa's beard and when taped to the hat, slipped over my head in one piece.

The next working day I hid from my co-workers, slipped into the costume, walked bravely to my desk, sat down, held my belly, and mocked Santa's chuckle, as they gathered around me laughing. It was the first time I had seen them smile in weeks. Later my supervisor walked through the door. He took three steps, looked up, saw me, paused, shook his head, turned and left.

I feared trouble. The phone on the desk rung a few moments later, "Mike, can you come to my office please?" I shuffled down the hall, the foam beard swishing across my chest with each step.

"Come in!" the muffled voice replied to my knock. I entered, and sat down. The foam on the beard creaked, and he looked away from me. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead, the only sound was the hammering of my heart. "Mike..." This was all he managed before he lost his composure, leaned back in his chair, and bellowed with laughter. He held his stomach, and tears formed in his eyes, as I sat silent and confused. When he regained control he said, "Mike, thanks! With the job cuts it has been hard to enjoy the Christmas season. Thanks for the laugh, I needed it."

That evening, and every evening of the Christmas season, I stood proudly in the window and waved to my fans. The bus crowd waved wildly, and the little children smiled at the strange Santa. My heart was full of the season, and for a few minutes each day we could forget the loss of jobs.

I didn't know it then, but a bond was forming between my fans and me. It wasn't until the spring following the Santa act that I discovered how close we had become.

My wife and I were expecting our first child that spring, and I wanted the world to know. Less than a month before the birth I posted a sign in the window, "25 DAYS UNTIL B DAY." My fans passed and shrugged their shoulders. The next day the sign read, "24 DAYS UNTIL B DAY." Each day the number dropped, and the passing people grew more confused.

One day a sign appeared in the bus, "What is B DAY?" I just waved and smiled.

Ten days before the expected date the sign in the window read, "10 DAYS UNTIL BA-- DAY." Still the people wondered. The next day it read, "9 DAYS UNTIL BAB- DAY," then "8 DAYS UNTIL BABY DAY," and my fans finally knew what was happening.

By then, my following had grown to include twenty or thirty different busses and cars. Every night they watched to see if my wife had given birth. Excitement grew as the number decreased. My fans were disappointed when the count reached "zero" without an announcement. The next day the sign read, "BABY DAY 1 DAY LATE," and I pretended to pull out my hair.

Each day the number changed and the interest from passing cars grew. When my wife was fourteen days overdue she went into labor, and the next morning our daughter was born. I left the hospital at 5:30am, screamed my joy into the still morning air and drove home to sleep. I got up at noon, showered, bought cigars, and appeared at my window in time for my fans. My co-workers were ready with a banner posted in the window:

"IT'S A GIRL!"

I wasn't alone that night. My co-workers joined me in celebration. We stood and waved our cigars in the air as every vehicle which passed acknowledged the birth of my daughter. Finally, the bus from the docks made its turn onto the overpass and began to climb the hill. When it drew close, I climbed onto the window ledge and clasped my hands over my head in a victory pose. The bus was directly in front of me when it stopped dead in heavy traffic, and every person on board stood with their hands in the air.

Emotion choked my breathing as I watched the display of celebration for my new daughter. Then it happened: a sign popped up. It filled the windows and stretched half the length of the bus, "CONGRATULATIONS!"

Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as the bus slowly resumed its journey. I stood in silence, as it pulled from view. More fans passed and tooted their horns or flashed their lights to display their happiness, but I hardly noticed them, as I pondered what had just happened.

My daughter had been born fourteen days late. Those people must have carried the sign, unrolled, on the bus for at least two weeks. Everyday they had unrolled it and then rolled it back up.

We all have a clown inside of us. We need to let it free and not be surprised at the magic it can create. For eight months I had made a fool of myself, and those people must have enjoyed the smiles I gave them, because on the happiest day of my life they had shown their appreciation.

It has been more than 18 years since that special time, but on my daughter's birthday I always remember the special gift they gave me.

Michael T. Smith

About 10 years after this event happened a version of the story was printed in a small local newspaper in Halifax, Nova Scotia - where the events occurred. The day it ran the editor had 3 calls from people who were on the bus. You just never know how you can touch the lives of others.

A Radical Approach to Becoming a Great Leader

Each and every one of us has the opportunity to be a leader at different times of our lives, whether it's a leader in our business, our home or our community. The challenge for many of us is that we don't have the fortitude to step up to the plate to become the type of leader that people trust. This true story below is an inspiration to anybody ready to make real changes in their life.

As a regional manager at a major brokerage firm, Michael had been working on his own leadership skills for several years, but despite his efforts, his retail branch region had been consistently ranked last or second to last in his company's employee opinion survey, and in this rare company where surveys are taken seriously - the results are published and ranked - this was bad news for Michael's career. He was losing his credibility as a manager. Then he had the epiphany.

Even though the surveys specifically reflected the views of front-line branch employees whose lives were affected by their immediate supervisors, Michael assumed that he was the problem, not the supervisors. Just allowing himself that realization was a risky endeavor: suddenly, responsibility rested squarely on Michael's already sore shoulders, the Blame Game was no longer an option, and he launched himself irrevocably into do-or-die mode. Then he cranked up the risk factor one more notch.

He gathered his management team together, stood up in front of the conference room and said, "I'm screwing up; the numbers show it, so I want you to tell me what I'm doing wrong and what I need to do to improve."

"I'm going to leave the room," he went on, "and I'd like you to get very specific and write down your ideas on flip-chart paper. When I come back, we'll talk through each item."

And he walked out.

A half-hour later he came back and knocked on the door. "We're not done yet," they said.

Finally, after ninety minutes, they let him in. All the walls were covered in flip-chart paper: list after list of suggestions for his personal improvement as a human being. He kept his balance, took a deep breath and proceeded to:

Accept What You Hear (And Show It)
Michael knew that his reaction in that moment would make or break the whole exercise, as well as his personal credibility. So he took a radical approach and responded authentically.

"I'm really disappointed," he said, "in myself. I had no idea there'd be so much."

He didn't defend, justify, or make excuses. All he did was ask some questions to make sure he fully understood each item, and they talked together for the next couple of hours. Imagine the intestinal fortitude that Michael needed to keep that conversation going for that long. "And another thing, boss..." was said more than once, I'm sure.

And then, at the end of the day, with rolls of flip chart paper tucked under his arms and a pounding sensation behind his eyes, Michael looked at his team and said two words straight from the heart:

"Thank you."

That night and the next couple of days, Michael told me, were the most difficult of his entire career. He was devastated and overwhelmed by the severity of the feedback and the immense challenge to follow through. He recovered from the initial shock, however, and went on to:

Do Something About It!
Nobody expected Michael to start at the top of list one, item one and start fixing them all. But they saw him try. He proved through his own actions that the session hadn't been a consultant-assigned exercise that he had been forced into tolerating.

The next round of surveys ranked Michael's organization second from the top in the entire company, with jumps of eighty to ninety percent in some measures. That's a radical leap no matter how you look at it, but the funny thing is, the improvement had relatively little to do with Michael's follow-up actions. It had everything to do with his team.

Steve Farber

Steve Farber is the president of Extreme Leadership, Incorporated - an organization devoted to the cultivation and development of Extreme Leaders in the business community. His book, The Radical Leap: A Personal Lesson in Extreme Leadership is a recipient of Fast Company magazine's Readers' Choice Award.

The 333 Story

I was doing a weekend seminar at the Deerhurst Lodge, north of Toronto. On Friday night a tornado swept through a town north of us called Barrie, killing dozens of people and doing millions of dollars worth of damage. Sunday night, as I was coming home, I stopped the car when I got to Barrie. I got out on the side of the highway and looked around. It was a mess. Everywhere I looked there were smashed houses and cars turned upside down.

That same night Bob Templeton was driving down the same highway. He stopped to look at the disaster just as I had, only his thoughts were different than my own. Bob was the vice-president of Telemedia Communications, which owns a string of radio stations in Ontario and Quebec. He thought there must be something we could do for these people with the radio stations they had.

The following night I was doing another seminar in Toronto. Bob Templeton and Bob Johnson, another vice-president from Telemedia, came in and stood in the back of the room. They shared their conviction that there had to be something they could do for the people in Barrie. After the seminar we went back to Bob's office. He was now committed to the idea of helping the people who had been caught in the tornado.

The following Friday he called all the executives at Telemedia into his office. At the top of a flip chart he wrote three 3's. He said to his executives, "How would you like to raise 3 million dollars 3 days from now in just 3 hours and give the money to the people in Barrie?" There was nothing but silence in the room.

Finally someone said, "Templeton, you're crazy. There is no way we could do that."

Bob said, "Wait a minute. I didn't ask you if we could or even if we should. I just asked you if you'd like to."

They all said, "Sure we'd like to." He then drew a large T underneath the 333. On one side he wrote, "Why we can't." On the other side he wrote, "How we can."

"I'm going to put a big X on the 'Why we can't side.' We're not going to spend any time on the ideas of why we can't. That's of no value. On the other side we're going to write down every idea that we can come up with on how we can. We're not going to leave the room until we figure it out." There was silence again.

Finally, someone said, "We could do a radio show across Canada."

Bob said, "That's a great idea," and wrote it down. Before he had it written, someone said, "You can't do a radio show across Canada. We don't have radio stations across Canada." That was a pretty valid objection. They only had stations in Ontario and Quebec.

Templeton replied, "That's why we can. That stays." But this was a real strong objection because radio stations are not very compatible. They usually don't work together. They are very cutthroat. They fight each other. To get them to work together would be virtually impossible according to the standard way of thinking.

All of a sudden someone said, "You could get Harvey Kirk and Lloyd Robertson, the biggest names in Canadian broadcasting, to anchor the show." (That would be like getting Tom Brokaw and Sam Donaldson to anchor the show. They are anchors on national TV. They are not going to go on radio.) At that point, it was absolutely amazing how fast and furious the creative ideas began to flow.

That was on a Friday. The following Tuesday they had a radiothon. They had fifty radio stations all across the country that agreed to broadcast it. It didn't matter who got the credit as long as the people in Barrie got the money. Harvey Kirk and Lloyd Robertson anchored the show and they succeeded in raising three million dollars in three hours within three business days!

You see, you can do anything if you put your focus on how to do it rather than on why you can't.

Bob Proctor

Bob Proctor is the author of the best selling book "You Were Born Rich." For almost 40 years he has conducted seminars around the world helping people achieve their dreams. He very rarely does open seminars for the public any longer.

My Grandmother Taught Me To Fly

The phone rang and it was my sister, tearfully sharing the news that Bella had a massive stroke and I needed to get home immediately. My heart was broken, my stomach churned and I was overwhelmed. The backbone of our Italian family was in critical condition and I wanted to see her one more time: my grandmother, Bella.

Grandma Bella played such an important role in my life; every Italian matriarch stereotype was embodied in this beautiful, beautiful lady. She had such a green thumb and her garden produced wonderful tomatoes which we canned every season. She taught me to make sausage using a coveted family recipe, and we played Crazy 8's until the wee hours of the morning more times than I could ever count!

"What do you mean the ticket is $600? I can't afford it. I told you, I have to get to my family NOW. Please help me, please", I told the Delta Airline representative.

Despite tears and my strongest desire to be there, I could not get to my family for three days because the only ticket I could afford required a three day advance purchase. No available credit on my maxed out Visa, no savings, and not an extra dime in the checking account. Sadly, I didn't even have anything of value to pawn, and my pride did not allow me to admit my financial situation and ask my family for a loan.

For three days, I constantly called my family, asking repeatedly, "How is Bella? How is Bella? Tell her that I am coming. Please tell her that I will be there."

I could hardly eat, I was restless, I was crying, and I was devastated that I was stranded in the tropics known as South Florida. The sense of helplessness was greater than I have ever known. My family was in shock and I was a thousand miles away, but it might as well have been a million miles. Finding $600 to reach them immediately was an impossible task. Being alone and realizing my financial situation made matters much worse.

When I finally made it home, my arrival was bittersweet. Bella was out of pain, no longer incapacitated by a stroke. But, I did not have the chance to tell her I loved her, I did not have the opportunity to lay my head by her beating heart, and I could no longer clasp her aged, worn hand safely between mine. She was in heaven now. Tears flowed and I knew in my heart Bella had taught me one more lesson: never ever to be a victim of finances.

After an incredible celebration of Bella's life, I headed to the airport for the lonely flight home. Gazing out the plane window, I looked at the big fluffy clouds fully expecting to see my Bella dancing in the heavens. At this point, I made a commitment to be like Bella: free, beholden to no one, in bondage to nothing.

Paul Martinelli

Although Bella's death was heartbreaking, it spurred Paul to make the biggest decision of his life: the commitment to fly, to soar, to be truly free! And this included being able to reach his family without having to wait three days for a supersaver ticket!

Today, Paul soars by earning a multimillion dollar income. He did this by following his heart...deciding to forgo the opinions of others to teach the principles and techniques of Bob Proctor. Paul uses Bella's final lesson as his reminder to be free, and shares this with others so they, too, can know the inexplicable joy of being beholden to no one or no thing.

If You Can't Say Something Nice

"Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you." Not so, according to Joseph Telushkin in his profoundly impactful book, Words That Hurt, Words That Heal.

Harsh criticism, snide sarcasm, nasty nicknames, and thoughtless gossip and rumors can inflict deep and lasting harm on individuals and their relationships. Some of the worst and most enduring pains we've suffered were caused by words.

What's more, Telushkin says, most of us say hurtful things about others much more than we realize. He challenges readers to go 24 hours without saying an unkind word to or about anyone. I flunked.

He's particularly down on gossip. Although we justify it as harmless and entertaining chatter, many things we say about others are fundamentally unkind and often unfair. Even worse, as anyone knows who has been the target of someone else's digs, jabs, and judgments, whether the gossip is innocent, insensitive, or malicious, the result is often the same: hurt feelings and damaged reputations and relationships.

Next time you're tempted to say unkind things about another - either to them or behind their back - ask yourself:

* What is the point and purpose? Is there any good that could come of these remarks?
* Could my words create or reinforce negative opinions that could harm or hurt the person I'm talking about?
* Would I be comfortable if the object of my gossip overheard my comments?

Tact, timing, and tone are all important. When we start being more responsible for our words, we realize the wisdom of the old adage: "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

Michael Josephson

Your Destiny Switch

"Knowledge alone is not enough. Only with understanding can real application begin. And that will help bring you to the place you want to be."

This was a true "Aha!" moment. I realized that hearing the insights of all the self-help experts I could find wasn't getting me to wrest control of my life and shape my destiny, because I hadn't internalized their wisdom. I'd written it on sticky notes and in journals, but I wasn't connecting to what they were telling me, so I couldn't truly understand it or apply it to my life. I was too busy congratulating myself for being a seeker of truth to slow down and process what I was taking in. Even the idea that I was in charge of my destiny really hadn't sunk in. Unknowingly, I'd been expecting motivational speakers to do it for me.

As a result of this epiphany, I developed a passion for deeper understanding. I realized that I needed to apply what I'd learned and actually experience the truths that these teachers were imparting to me. I began to think about what they'd taught me about emotions and to look more closely at how I was experiencing my feelings. Why was it so hard for me to stay positive when I knew how important it was to do so? Why did I descend into a pit of anger or self-loathing with such ease? So many things could push my buttons and make me feel negative. Rather than letting my emotions continue to rule my life and imprison me, I decided that it was time for me to search further to figure out why I was at their mercy and what do about it.

Peggy McColl

Loving Hands

It was going to be our leanest Christmas. We had discussed not giving presents at all, but our children were still in school. Both my husband and I remembered the meager years of our childhoods, and we did not want a Christmas without presents for our children. So, we got the family together, and we all agreed, that this would be the Christmas where we would exchange only gifts that we had made with our own hands.

There was a kind of hushed peace that settled upon us in the month before Christmas. No last minute shopping, where we would dash into the store before it closed, and then dash out with some meaningless, soon-to-be-forgotten gift. This Christmas would require thought and planning.

The house was quiet for weeks as we each ransacked boxes of craft supplies, materials, and ribbons. Bedroom doors closed early, as our daughters giggled and planned all the wonderful surprises that they had in store for each member of the family. I was able to design and make special Christmas ornaments and tiny photo albums, telling the story of each child's life. I cannot remember the gift that I made for my husband, but I will never forget the gift that he made for me.

That Christmas he became a man of secrets. Louie, a big man with large, capable hands, was an electrician in the Navy. I was simply amazed to see the things that he could make work. His powerful hands could pull cables weighing hundreds of pounds, with a strength that would bring another man to his knees, but I had also felt those loving hands gently stroke my headaches away, and I'd witnessed the tenderness in those hands as he held a sick child. So, I was curious to see what those hands would create for me for Christmas.

He took over the back bedroom. Sitting at a child's desk, working under the light of a cheap study lamp, he performed his mysterious enterprise. He would walk into the house, right after work, carrying brown paper bags held tightly to his chest. Some of the bags were so tiny, that I couldn't imagine what they contained. I made cookies and cakes and planned the Christmas meal, as I imagined the tantalizing moment, when I would unwrap his gift.

As Christmas day neared, I barely saw my husband. I had to insist that he eat something, and then he took a notion to eating right after work, so he could devote himself fully to his project. He was in the door, barely pausing for a brief kiss, then into the back room! And, no matter how long I stood with my ear to the door, I couldn't hear a sound!

I had never been so excited. I couldn't wait. What was he making!? I imagined all sorts of electronic equipment, perhaps a flashing light-board that whistled or clanged. Maybe he was building me some wonderful electronic gismo! I had a lot of fun trying to guess what the surprise would be. I hadn't a clue.

Christmas day dawned bright and crisp. First came breakfast, and the only thing that could be touched before breakfast were the stockings. The girls dived into their stockings, through the nuts and apples, all the way down to the orange that was in the toe. One would think that these southern children had never tasted an orange! They peeled and separated and sucked the juicy fruit, while inhaling a piece of sausage quiche. Breakfast was finished, and we headed for the gifts.

The girls loved every little gift. I had insisted on going last. The girls were so excited, that they wanted me to tear into Louie's gift, but I waited until every gift was opened and "oooohed and aaaaaahed" over. Then Louie handed me the large, carefully wrapped box.

"Don't shake it," he said, with a mysterious smile.

"Wait until you see it, Momma," smiled Helen.

The girls knew! They had been a part of the conspiracy! Carefully, I unwrapped the box. Too much tape. Louie flipped his pocket-knife out and quickly took care of the tape.

"Afraid someone might break into it?" I asked, with a grin.

"Well, you never know," he assured me, with a wink.

Finally, I opened the box, setting it gently on the floor. I heard a tinkle. What was this? I pulled out miles of tissue paper, and with my eyes closed, I reached inside. It was smooth, with tiny parts. Jenny reached over, holding the box, so that I could pull out the gift.

"Gently," she said.

Holding my breath, I pulled it out. Someone pulled an end-table close and assisted me in setting my gift down. I opened my eyes, and to my amazement I beheld a lovely porcelain carousel, with tiny horses, a roof, and a music box, beautifully painted, fired and assembled by my husband. The tears sprung to my eyes. Such delicate beauty, fashioned by big, strong, hands.

Louie reached over and lifted the carousel, gently turning the music box key. Lovely, tinkling music played, as tears dripped from my eyes. It is my most precious Christmas gift, ever, fashioned by loving hands, that have taught me that true love is not only sweet, but also surprising.

© Jaye Lewis

Jaye Lewis is an award winning writer from Virginia, USA. Her stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, including Chicken Soup for the Soul and God Allows U-Turns. She also writes content for many online websites and magazines.

Teach Or Punish

As Greg paces the floor, waiting for his 17-year-old daughter Sandy to return from a school event, he feels two conflicting emotions: fear and anger. Fear that something terrible has happened to her. Anger because he thinks his fear is probably unfounded and Sandy is not hurt, simply irresponsible.

Finally, Sandy calls. She's all right. She just lost track of time. Greg's fear disappears, but his anger grows.

The love that motivated his worry is overwhelmed by a growing sense of outrage, and he begins to rehearse what he will say, what punishment he will inflict. Unless he intercepts his anger, it can easily turn to rage, an emotion likely to produce foolishly impulsive conduct that's likely to alienate Sandy and widen the rift between them.

Here's the character challenge: Can Greg stop the runaway train of anger long enough to think about his objectives? His immediate goal is to vent his fury and frustration and teach Sandy a lesson. His long-term goal is to strengthen - not weaken - his relationship with his daughter and help her become more responsible and respectful.

If Greg stops and thinks about his broader goal, he will want to turn this event into a positive teaching moment. To do that, he will have to choose his words and tone carefully.

Good managers don't yell at or demean employees because it would be ineffective and unethical. Parents have no less duty to be tactful and respectful when dealing with their children.

Remember that character counts!

Michael Josephson

The Power of Belief

How many times have you used excuses to rationalize your way out of success? Zig Ziglar calls the phenomenon "Stinkin' Thinkin'" and warns us about "hardening of the attitudes."

Wilma Rudolph is an example of how an undying belief in one-self can be the catalyst to overcoming problems. Polio took a toll on Wilma as a child. For six years she wore braces and could not walk, but she believed the braces would someday come off. The doctor was doubtful Wilma would ever walk correctly, but he encouraged her to exercise. Wilma didn't understand that she might be permanently handicapped. She thought that if a little exercise was good, a lot must be very good. When her parents were away, Wilma would take off the braces and try again and again to walk unaided. When she was eleven, she told her doctor, "I have something to show you." Wilma removed her braces and walked across the room. She never put them on again.

Wilma wanted to play sports. After some false starts at basketball, she finally confronted her coach, saying, "If you give me ten minutes a day, I will give you in return a world-class athlete." The coach laughed uncontrollably but agreed to give Wilma the time. When basketball season was over, Wilma turned to track. By age fourteen she was on the track team, and by sixteen she was encouraged to prepare for the Olympics. Wilma Rudolph won a bronze medal at the 1956 Olympics and three gold medals at the 1960 Games.

Belief in yourself and hard work can make you a world-class individual in whatever area you choose. What will you have if you give up? What can you have if you keep on trying?

Alan C. Elliott
Author of A Daily Dose of the American Dream

Not Giving Up

I can remember a period in my life when I was unemployed and money was running short. I needed a job very badly and it seemed as if no one was hiring.

A very good friend of mine approached me one day with an offer. "I'm going to have to let this job go and I was wondering if you would like to take it over?"

"That would be great," I replied.

I went to speak with the manager and he said he could use me, but never gave me a start date. Really needing the job, I made it a point to go and check in with him every day. I knew he would eventually get tired of me and give me a starting period. Finally one day he said, "You can start Monday morning."

Come Monday morning, I showed up for work extra early. I was ready to do my best. When I went inside I was informed that I would be buffing the floors. My friend was there to show me how to operate the buffer.

"It's real easy," he said, running the machine very smoothly.

He handed it over to me and said, "Here, you give it a try."

I grabbed the handles with a "no problem" attitude and gave it some gas. To my surprise, the buffer whipped around in a big circle, running over my friend's brand new pair of boots, and sending him jumping up on a check-out counter.

Several times, I tried to run it again and failed. I really had to fight that thing to make it go.

"What am I going to do?" I thought to myself. "I finally found a job and I can't do it. Am I going to have to tell them I have to quit?"

After several rough days of buffing, I finally made up my mind that I was going to do this. For about a week, I struggled with the buffer, putting all my weight and strength into it. Eventually, I learned the trick was not to struggle with it at all, just go with the flow of it, and by the second week, I was showing off and running it with one hand.

A few months later, I thought back and wondered what would have happened if I had given up that first week. I certainly would not have had the newfound confidence or a paycheck. Sometime after that experience, I started a new job that required the use of a buffer. I even had to train others to use it, and I always got a kick out of seeing them run it for the first time. I knew, though, if they stuck with it, they would do just fine; they just needed a little encouragement and a lot of practice.

Michael Jordan said, "Obstacles don't have to stop you. If you run into a wall, don't turn around and give up. Figure out how to climb it, go through it, or work around it."

Kip Davis

Kip Davis is the city planner for a small rural town in Arkansas. He writes a weekly column for the town newspaper called "Positive Motivation For The Real World."

Your Wish Is My Command!

I am gong to take a little idea from The Secret - and expand upon it - and also introduce a principle to those of you who haven't yet seen The Secret. I recommend that you do see it as soon as possible!

OK - here's the principle: That each and every thought you have is actually heard by your very own genie!

Stick with me here - because I do understand just how challenging this suggestion might be to some of you. I'm asking you to look at this light-heartedly - as it doesn't have to shake your foundations completely - it can be absorbed in a light-hearted way - and used in the same manner.

We've all been getting told for years to "be careful what you ask for - you just might get it"!

Some of us have been told this in a light hearted way; some in the form of a joke; some in the form of reference to prayer in a religious sense; and some in a very serious way. Whichever way we tend to view this - it is in itself part of the relationship we have with our genie... our thought processes.

The Law of Attraction which is the main focus of The Secret, is about owning what we create within our lives - and taking responsibility for our thoughts and understanding just how powerful they can be.

OK - the genie principle.

I truly believe that if each of us can embrace the simple idea that we have a friendly genie paying attention to each and every thought we have - then we will learn to grasp in a light-hearted way that we do actually create our own results in life.

If we can imagine that each thought (and our verbalizing of those thoughts) is being heard, and responded to like this; "OK - your wish is my command"! "I'll get right onto that for you"!

Whether the thoughts and words we use are positive - or negative - the results will be in alignment with those thoughts and words. Too many sages down through the ages and into the present have been agreeing on this for too long for it not to be true!

Remember - the votes have been unanimous for centuries!

What we think - we will manifest!
What we think - we will become!

What we think - we will continue to think - unless we take action to change our habitual thinking.

Thinking that has been put there by life; by our experiences in life; by other people who have had the same thought patterns put there by life; by their experiences in life; and by other people in their lives... and so it goes. Generations of thoughts which have created reality for millions of people - have been passed down to us.

Right now we all have a choice: To continue living under other people's opinions passed down to us about life; or to embrace change here and now and begin to create our own positive thoughts based upon a few pinnacle principles...

Unconditional Love; Abundance; Forgiveness; Spiritual Awareness; Inner Peace (which will spread to your community, then to your state, then to your country, and eventually globally); Deserving; Kindness; and Mind/Body/Spirit balance.

Of course there are other pinnacle principles on which to base new thoughts and ideas - but those just given above are some of the main ones necessary for each of us to manifest abundance, good health, a balanced lifestyle, peace and happiness in our lives.

I am very aware that many of you reading this will already be relating to your own genie as being God, and of course I encourage and respect that thought process, and the feelings surrounding those beliefs. My reasoning in writing this is to encourage a light-hearted aspect to our relationship with our thought processor.

A genie is something that most of us can actually visualize - so being capable of visualizing someone taking notes - then acting on those notes - is one slightly different way to view the importance of how our thoughts turn into reality!

May you and your genie have a sensational week together.

Remember: "What others do or say is their stuff; how we react, or not, is our stuff"!

© Phil Evans

Phil Evans is a Motivator, Business Coach and Inspirational Writer based in Australia.

Appreciating a Parent's Love

While window-shopping in New York City, I saw an old gold watch that reminded me of one my father gave me when I graduated from college. It had been engraved with the simple inscription LOVE, DAD. But it was stolen during a burglary years ago, and I hadn't thought much of it or the inscription since.

I always knew my dad loved me. I took it for granted. He was supposed to. I was his son. I'm always a bit shocked when I run into people who have had a different experience. The truth is, not all dads love their kids, and those who do don't always express it. I had no idea how lucky I was.

Until I became a father myself, I had no way of understanding the depth and intensity of his feelings and the emotional investment he had in my happiness. I couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt him when I was cut from my baseball team or dumped by my first girlfriend or how proud he'd be today seeing me become the kind of father he taught me to be.

I always assumed I loved my dad and he knew it, but the truth is, my love was shallow and unexplored. I never came close to feeling or expressing gratitude for all the ways he made my childhood safe, comfortable and fun. I wish I had given him that gift.

Of course, my dad wasn't perfect. He had flaws like everyone else. It's so easy to overweigh our parents' shortcomings, underweight their virtues and undervalue their love.

What's not easy is experiencing and expressing gratitude while it still maters.

Michael Josephson

Reflecting on the Good Times

I had arrived at the airport about 30 minutes before the required check in to catch an early flight home. It had been a very busy three days for me on an interstate trip with lots of meetings, business to do and new customers to meet. So I was glad to have the extra time to make my notes on what I needed to action when I got back to my office the following day. Equally, it is always a great feeling when you complete your "to do" list, as well as the sense of control that comes from getting it out of your head and onto paper, or should I say into the laptop.

Then came the announcement that I am sure all air travellers loath to hear - the flight had been delayed indefinitely due to a technical problem with the plane. As I sat in the departure lounge I could see a group of technicians and ground staff rushing about, obviously endeavouring to fix the problem with the plane. I watched and listened as many of the passengers sitting near me shared their frustration about the inconvenience and why couldn't the airline just wheel out another plane or put us on another flight. A steady stream of passengers lined up at the departure desk only to receive the expected up date from the customer service attendants that they can do very little other than ask us all to be patient and that as soon as they can get us away, they would call the flight. The mobile phones were working over time throughout the departure lounge as passengers left messages for business associates and loved ones to update them on our predicament.

As I sat waiting for the announcement which would no doubt bring cheers from all of my fellow travellers, I reflected on my last meeting for the day. It was not a business meeting but rather a very enjoyable and all to brief lunch with an old business associate and friend I had not seen for over 12 years, and who I had worked with for nearly 15 years prior to us losing contact. I had been given his contact phone number by a customer I had visited on the first day of my trip, so I called him out of the blue and made a time for us to meet.

Our lunch was spent recalling times gone by and as well filling each other in on what had happened in our lives over the last 12 years. Our conversation was punctuated with statements such as "remember when we did...," "whatever happened to...," and of course the one we all liked to hear, "you know you haven't changed one bit, except for a few more grey hairs." We both laughed and smiled as we recalled the good times and the great experiences we had shared over the 15 years we had worked together. Each event we discussed triggered another recollection and everything we talked about centred on the good times and only served to energise each of us during the course of our lunch. Almost simultaneously, right at the end of our time together, we both said how much we both enjoyed it and that we must do it again. We agreed to catch up when I was next in town, then said our goodbyes and I was off to the airport.

So as I sat waiting for the announcement that my flight was finally ready to depart, it was great to have this additional time to revisit and replay in my mind all that we had talked about. I realised at that moment just how important it is to have regular reminders of the good times in your life and to be able to take the time to reminisce, for so much of what we have done in our lives, shapes us and makes us who we are today and beyond.

Sandwiched in between the busy time of my trip and the focus on getting business done, I was fortunate enough to have had the chance to take a short break and reflect on the good things that had happened in my life over 12 years ago. It was somewhat like looking at an old photo album that you have found stored away in a cupboard in your house, there before your eyes are lots of wonderful memories in print that take you back to that time and place, and most importantly to those people who are in the photos. It also made me realise when you get caught up doing what has to be done in the moment, how easy it is to forget the people you have met in your life who have made a positive impact on and enriched you, often in only the smallest of ways.

My flight home was finally called nearly three hours later and yes as you would have expected many of the passengers cheered when the announcement was made. I smiled as I boarded the plane and realised that I was not at all upset about the delay in the flight departure, as I had been able to spend much of my time reflecting on the good times from days gone by and I eagerly look forward to many more opportunities to reminisce.

Keith Ready

Inspired by Vasil Delvizis, my business associate and good friend from times gone by.

Keith Ready lives in Sydney, Australia and is affectionately known as Mr. Inspiration. He is publisher of InspirEmail which provides inspirational messages to refresh the spirit and boost the emotional bank account.

Reaching Out

I first signed onto the internet in 1996. The first thing I did was search for writing groups. There were hundreds of them, but I wanted one with a chat room where I could correspond personally with writers.

The one I joined was special. I met many aspiring writers and a few established ones. In this group I met a young man named Dan (Not his real name). We became friends, and over the years I learned his life story. Dan is Korean and had been adopted by an American family. Dan was a young boy when his father left him and his mom. Later his mother slowly pushed him away from her.

At 18, Dan was on his own in the world. He worked two jobs and was going to school. He tried hard, but he was not making it. His two jobs were dragging his marks down. He would lose jobs when he tried to get his marks up. Dan was falling down and had no one to pick him up. He had no anchor. His family had abandoned him; life had abandoned him; his future a mountain too high to climb.

Dan latched onto me and began calling me his cyber dad.

A few years back Dan emailed me. He had reached his limit. He had lost another job. Juggling jobs and school had failed. He had dropped the "ball." With the loss of income he could not pay the rent for his tiny room. His landlord was going to throw him out.

Dan confessed to me that he was close to ending it all. Myself and another friend of his chipped together and sent him a couple hundred dollars to pay his rent. This was money I could not afford to give, but he needed it more than I did. Before I sent him the money, I went online and did a search of government agencies in the area where he lived. I mailed several government officials and told them I had a special request for someone in need.

I said, "I know this may seem strange, but I have a friend in need. I am a Canadian who belongs to an internet writing group. A young man I met there needs your help. He has lost his job and his landlord is throwing him out for non-payment of rent. He has been struggling with two jobs and school and has no family to help him. I believe he is considering suicide. I ask you for any assistance you can give."

Only one mailed back. She was a compassionate lady who mailed me a list of support and help groups. They included the suicide help line and a group that could assist him with work related assistance.

I mailed Dan the list and made him promise to use them before I sent him money. He promised he would, and he did. The groups did assist him. He got a new job and his future looked brighter. I also made him call every relative he could find for their help. He was skeptical, but did it. One kindly aunt gave him a room.

Dan was on his way.

This occurred in 1998. Dan and I moved on from there. We emailed once every few months, and he always called me Dad.

In December of 2003 Dan called me. He had met a young lady and he asked me if I would come to his wedding. The wedding was going to be in Kansas. I said I would love to be there to watch him get married. He replied, "Dad, you don't understand. I don't want you to just be there; I want you to be my best man."

I was floored. I had never met Dan before, but how could I refuse? In the spring of 2004 I flew to Kansas to give this young man his first hug from his cyber dad and had the honor of standing by his side as he took his new bride into his life.

I have been through a lot in my 45 years on this world. Some of it has been very hard and some of it has been wonderful. My visit to Kansas was one of the wonderful ones.

I learned a valuable lesson - reach out and touch someone and you will be touched back - give and you shall receive.

Michael T. Smith