The Story of 9 x 1 = 7 ~ by unknown sources

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. The Story of 9 x 1 = 7 ~ by unknown sources One day a school teacher wrote on the board the following: 9×1=7 9×2=18 9×3=27 9×4=36 9×5=45 9×6=54 9×7=63 9×8=72 9×9=81 9×10=90 When she was done, she looked to the students and they were all laughing at her, because of the first equation which was wrong, and then the teacher said the following; I wrote that first one wrong on purpose, because I wanted you to learn something important. This was for you to know how the world out there will treat you. You can see that I wrote RIGHT 9 times, but none of You congratulated me for it, But you all laughed and criticized me because of one wrong thing I did. So this is the lesson: The world will never appreciate the good u do a million times, but will criticize the one wrong thing you do... BUT don't get discouraged, always rise above the laughter and the criticisms. Stay strong. Note also that rising above the laughter and the criticisms is Mother Teresa's idea of Humility. .

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Dear Dad

Someone just sent me this... love it.

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Dear Dad ~ A Story for Fathers and Daughters

A father passing by his teenage daughter's bedroom was astonished to see the bed was nicely made and everything was neat and tidy. 

Then he saw an envelope propped up prominently on the centre of the pillow. 

It was addressed "Dad". With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter with trembling hands:- 

. Dear Dad, It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you, but I'm leaving home. I had to elope with my new boyfriend Randy because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.  I've been finding real passion with Randy and he is so nice to me. I know when you meet him you'll like him too - even with all his piercing, tattoos, and motorcycle clothes. But it's not only the passion Dad, I'm pregnant and Randy said that he wants me to have the kid and that we can be very happy together.  Even though Randy is much older than me (anyway, 42 isn't so old these days is it?), and has no money, really these things shouldn't stand in the way of our relationship, don't you agree? Randy has a great CD collection; he already owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. It's true he has other girlfriends as well but I know he'll be faithful to me in his own way. He wants to have many more children with me and that's now one of my dreams too.  Randy taught me that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone and he'll be growing it for us and we'll trade it with our friends for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want. In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Randy can get better; he sure deserves it!!  Don't worry Dad , I'm 15 years old now and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your grandchildren.  Your loving daughter , Rosie. .

At the bottom of the page were the letters "PTO ".

Hands still trembling, her father turned the sheet, and read:

. PS: Dad, none of what I wrote behind is true. I'm over at the neighbour's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than my report card that's in my desk centre drawer. Please sign it and call when it is safe for me to come home.  I love you! Your loving daughter, Rosie .

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The Starfish Story

Just came across this lovely story. Here below are 2 versions of it.
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It reminds me of this quote by Mother Teresa.
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“We ourselves feel that 

what we are doing is 

just a drop in the ocean. 

But the ocean would be less 

because of that missing drop.”

~ Mother Teresa of Calcutta

(Albanian born Indian Missionary and 

Founder of the Order of the Missionaries of Charity. 

Nobel Prize for Peace in 1979. 1910-1997)

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Version 1:
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The Starfish Story

~ an adaptation from an original story by Loren Eisley

One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean. 

Approaching the boy, he asked, "What are you doing?"

The youth replied, "Throwing starfish back into the ocean. 

The surf is up and the tide is going out.  If I don't throw them back, they'll die."

"Son," the man said, "don't you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can't make a difference!"

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the sea.  

Then, smiling at the man, he said "I made a difference for that one."

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Version 2:
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The Starfish Story
Guest Author - Deanna Joseph

adapted from The Star Thrower
by Loren Eiseley
1907 - 1977

Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"

The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean."

"I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "I made a difference to that one!"

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Angel at Ground Zero on September 11, 2001

Someone sent me this story via email.

It's written by Genelle Guzman-McMillan, giving a personal account of what happened.

I did and check on the internet and found it to be true... 

at this website... http://www.snopes.com/rumors/survivor.asp....
I've captured the link in the image below, click on image to enlarge.

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True Short Story

She was the last to be pulled from the rubble on September 11. For her it was a beginning.

Angel at Ground Zero on September 11, 2001

By Genelle Guzman-McMillan, Valley Stream, New York

As appeared in GUIDEPOSTS.

Today I still work for The Port Authority as I did when I clocked in at the World Trade Center at 8:05 that Tuesday morning 10 years ago. But now on September 11, I try to take the day off. I want to be in a quiet, peaceful place praying. It is a day I both mourn and celebrate.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had left the 64th floor of the North Tower earlier and escaped unharmed. What if I hadn't been buried in debris, the ground falling out beneath me at the 13th floor as I was racing to get out of the building? What if I hadn't been stuck under rubble for 27 hours before rescuers finally found me? I would have been grateful, but I wouldn't have looked any deeper at my life. I would have chalked my survival up to quick thinking or quick moving or plain good luck. I would have gone on with my life avoiding God the way I had ever since I lost my mom to cancer in 1999.

Instead I lay there trapped in the dark after the building collapsed, rethinking my life. I ended up doing what my mom would have done. I prayed. Well, it was more like pleading, screaming, promising, asking for some sort of miracle until I pushed my hand through a few inches of rubble above my head and felt someone's warm hand close around mine. Then I heard a male voice say the four sweetest words I have ever heard: "I've got you, Genelle."

I clung as much to his reassuring voice as to his strong hand. "My name is Paul," he said. "You're going to be okay. They're going to get you out soon." The ache in my right leg, the throbbing in my head, faded as I held his hand and listened. "Don't worry, I've got you," Paul said. "They're almost here. Hang on."

Finally I saw a glimmer of light and heard other voices and distant sirens. Two volunteers from Massachusetts, Brian Buchanan and Rick Cushman, found me with the help of a police officer from Canada named James Symington and his search-and-rescue dog Trakr.

"They're here," Paul said. "You're in good hands now. I'm going to go and let them do their jobs and get you out."

I never felt him release me, but soon I was holding someone else's hand — a firefighter's — and talking to my rescuers as they painstakingly removed twisted steel and chunks of concrete from around me and lifted me out. Hundreds of helpers handed me down the pile of rubble to an ambulance. I heard them cheering, and I kept saying Paul's name to myself so I wouldn't forget. I wanted to make sure I thanked him. There were three things I promised God I would do as soon as I got out of the hospital: get baptized, marry my boyfriend Roger and find Paul.

On November 7, after six weeks in the hospital, four surgeries and hours of physical therapy and rehabilitation, I kept the first two promises. Roger and I got married at City Hall in Manhattan that very morning and I was baptized that evening at The Brooklyn Tabernacle.

But Paul? I never found him. Even when a CNN reporter brought me together with my other rescuers, Paul's identity remained a mystery. He wasn't the firefighter who held my hand. That was later when I heard sirens and people began digging me out. Somehow Paul had known my name before I even said a word. Who was he?

I talked to friends about it. I called my pastor and asked him. We spoke about another Paul, the one in the Bible who was totally in the dark, like me, and fought against God until he saw the light. Then we talked about my Paul.

"Genelle," my pastor said, "Paul did not exist in the flesh. You were asking for a miracle and maybe God sent you his angel."

You can see why I celebrate and mourn every September 11. I mourn the loss of so many lives, my friends from work, people who walked down the stairs with me and didn't make it. Yet there is much to be grateful for. My survival — which still fills me with wonder. My health— I walk with a slight limp that most people don't notice. My family — Roger and I and our four children have a good life. Most of all, I celebrate my relationship with God.

People can debate whether Paul was an angel or whether it was just coincidence that I was rescued. I know, though, the strong hand that reached out for mine when I was buried alive, the reassuring voice I heard when I cried out for help. Someone called me by name and I have never been the same. 

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Short Story ~ The Chapatti Woman & The Hunchback

Someone just sent me this story. This is the first time I'm reading it. Love it.

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Short Story ~ The Chapatti Woman & The Hunchback

A woman baked chapatti (roti) for members of her family and an extra one for a hungry passerby. She kept the extra chapatti on the window sill, for whosoever would take it away.

Every day, a hunchback came and took away the chapatti. Instead of expressing gratitude, he muttered the following words as he went his way: 

"The evil you do remains with you: 

The good you do, comes back to you!"

This went on, day after day. Every day, the hunchback came, picked up the chapatti and uttered the words: 

"The evil you do, remains with you: 

The good you do, comes back to you!" 

The woman felt irritated. "Not a word of gratitude," she said to herself...

"Everyday this hunchback utters this jingle! What does he mean?" One day, exasperated, she decided to do away with him. "I shall get rid of this hunchback," she said. And what did she do? She added poison to the chapatti she prepared for him! As she was about to keep it on the window sill, her hands trembled. "What is this I am doing?" she said. Immediately, she threw the chapatti into the fire, prepared another one and kept it on the window sill. As usual, the hunchback came, picked up the chapatti and muttered the words: "The evil you do, remains with you: The good you do, comes back to you!" The hunchback proceeded on his way, blissfully unaware of the war raging in the mind of the woman. 

Every day, as the woman placed the chapatti on the window sill, she offered a prayer for her son who had gone to a distant place to seek his fortune. For many months, she had no news of him.. She prayed for his safe return.

That evening, there was a knock on the door. As she opened it, she was surprised to find her son standing in the doorway. He had grown thin and lean. His garments were tattered and torn. He was hungry, starved and weak. As he saw his mother, he said, "Mom, it's a miracle I'm here.

While I was but a mile away, I was so famished that I collapsed. I would have died, but just then an old hunchback passed! by. I begged of him for a morsel of food, and he was kind enough to give me a whole chapatti. 

As he gave it to me, he said, "This is what I eat everyday: today, I shall give it to you, for your need is greater than mine!" "As the mother heard those words, her face turned pale.

She leaned against the door for support. She remembered the poisoned chapatti that she had made that morning. Had she not burnt it in the fire, it would have been eaten by her own son, and he would have lost his life! It was then that she realized the significance of the words:

"The evil you do remains with you:
The good you do, comes back to you!"

Do well and don't ever stop doing Good, even if it is not appreciated at that time.

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"The evil you do remains with you:
The good you do, comes back to you!"

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Pictorial Story ~ Comic Book Style ~ I Used To Be Like This

Someone just sent me this... these babies are so cute.
I enjoyed the story... I hope you enjoy it too!

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Story ~ Death Of One, Brings Happiness For Many

A beautiful story of how many lives are transformed even at the death of just one life.

Greater love hath no man than this, 

that a man lay down his life for his friends. 

~ John 15:13, King James Version (KJV)

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Picture caption:

Ms Natalie Tjahja, whose daughter Maria Monique died after visiting Singapore for heart surgery, set up a foundation which helps fulfil the last wishes of underprivileged and handicapped children like Devan, 16, who suffers from brittle bones and growth deformity. His wish is to go to the seaside and theme park in Ancol, Jakarta, and to record a song. -- PHOTO: COURTESY OF NATALIE TJAHJA

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Heart surgery girl's mum thanks S'poreans in a song

By Zubaidah Nazeer, Indonesia Correspondent

The Straits Times ~ Wednesday, 2011 Jul 13, World, Regional, Page A17

http://app.mfa.gov.sg/pr/read_content.asp?View,15663,

JAKARTA: Ms Natalie Tjahja took her ailing daughter to Singapore for heart surgery in 2006. Although the girl died a day after the operation, Ms Tjahja, 40, never forgot the Samaritans in Singapore who helped her financially.

Last Tuesday - the day her only child would have turned 14 had she lived - Ms Tjahja handed Singapore Embassy officials here a CD of a song she composed. Titled The Last Harbour, the song was dedicated to the Singaporeans she met during her ordeal five years ago.

'I cannot forget how Singaporeans helped me when I had nothing. Singapore will always have a special place in my heart,' she told The Straits Times.

She recalled meeting a staff member from the hospital canteen who offered her food for free to cheer her up, and a woman who visited every day during their month-long stay 'to pray with me'.

In 2008, as a token of appreciation, she gave copies of an illustrated children's book she had written to individuals and staff at Mount Elizabeth Hospital, where her daughter was treated.

Three months after her daughter's death, Ms Tjahja, who has separated from her husband, quit as co-partner from her travel agency and decided to set up a foundation for terminally ill children with US$100 (S$122) as seed money. The Maria Monique Last Wish Foundation, named after her daughter, was registered in early 2007, and has since grown by word of mouth, via friends and their network.

Today, it has nearly 1,000 volunteers and about 70 full-time staff across 25 provinces in Indonesia. More importantly, the foundation has helped fulfil the last wishes of about 10,000 underprivileged and handicapped children aged between five and 15 years, not just in Indonesia but also in the United States, Japan, Vietnam, China, Haiti and South Africa.

'The foundation is not here to help pay medical fees but to give joy,' Ms Tjahja said. 'My condition to people who wish to donate is that they give their time or money directly to benefit the child they are helping. They have to be there personally to grant the wish.'

One beneficiary is Aman, 11, from Tangerang, West Java. The bedridden child had to be carried around by his mother, who works as a household help, wherever she went. Ms Tjahja said: 'His last wish was to be 'human'. So we gave him a wheelchair so he could move around without help.'

Ms Tjahja and her foundation have been featured in CNN's Impact Your World segment, which spotlights people who are making a difference with their work.

One of the foundation's supporters is national carrier Garuda Indonesia, which helps transport wheelchairs to the needy children in other cities.

Ms Tjahja said her focus now is on building 'happy rooms' for handicapped children to play in. Every room, which is slightly bigger than an HDB master bedroom, is equipped with a ball pit, a mini-trampoline, slides and a swing.

Acknowledging that her life is now solely devoted to this cause, she said: 'After losing the only precious thing in my life, I just want to give happiness to as many critically ill children as I can.

'Granting these children their last wish to make their lives a little better is the only thing that drives me now.'

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A Heart Touching Story

Someone sent me this well written short story via email.

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A Heart Touching Story ~ Author Unknown

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I was walking around in a Big Bazaar store making shopping, when I saw a Cashier talking to a little boy who couldn't have been more Than 5 or 6 years old. The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll. Then the little boy turned to me and asked: ''Auntie, do I have enough money?'' I counted his cash and replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy the doll, my dear.'' The little boy was Still holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. 'It's the Doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much. I wanted to Gift her for her BIRTHDAY. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.' His eyes were so sad while saying this. 'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister. '' My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.' Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so my sister won't forget me.' 'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister...' Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check again, Just in case you do have enough money for the doll?'' 'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough..' I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!' Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'' 'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose. My mommy loves white roses.' I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy? Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away... I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

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Story ~ What Is That, It's A Sparrow

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y381DEn5Ku0



This Greek short film (with English subtitle) was made in 2007.
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Father and son are sitting on a bench. Suddenly a sparrow lands across them. The old Father asks son, “What is that?” to which the son replies “A Sparrow” and looks back into his newspaper. After sometime his father again asks him “What is that”. A little annoyed, son replies “I just told you father, its a sparrow”.
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Then, the sparrow flies to the other side and sits there. The father repeats his question “what is that?”. This time, son replies “A sparrow father, a sparrow…s-p-a-r-r-o-w……” and when again the father repeats his question, son is filled with anger and says “Why are you doing this Father? How many times I told you its a sparrow!!!”
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Father gets up and goes into the house to take his old dairy. He comes back and asks his son to read a passage from the dairy, which goes like this “Today my youngest son, who a few days ago turned three, was sitting with me at the park when a sparrow sat in front of us. My son asked me 21 times what it was and I answered all 21 times that it was a sparrow. I hugged him every single time he asked me the same question again and again without getting mad, feeling affection for my innocent little boy.”
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A Mother's Love

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A Mother's Love ~ The story of Susanna Petroysan and her four-year-old daughter.

On December 7, 1988, a massive earthquake hit Soviet Armenia. Apartment buildings collapsed in upon themselves, and people were entombed in all the rubble. Two of those people included Susanna Petroysan and her four-year-old daughter.

They survived the earthquake, but were entombed alive in the rubble of the apartment building. Susanna was pinned flat on her back, but was able to move her arms, and was able to make a little nest out of clothing for her daughter to lay on. The only food that was nearby was one jar of blackberry jam.

Over two days, she fed the contents of the jar to her daughter, eating none herself. After two days, the jar was clean; there was no more food, no water, and, worse, no sign of rescue. Numbed by the cold, weak from lack of food, Susanna began to lose hope. Fading in and out of consciousness, she heard her daughter say, “Mommy, I’m thirsty.”

Susanna struggled to get her senses, and remembered a story about how Arctic explorers had slashed their hands and given their own blood to one of their party who was dying of thirst. Reaching around in the dark, Susanna found a shard of glass, cut her cold-numbed finger, and gave her daughter drops of her very own blood. Again and again, day after agonizing day, she repeatedly gave her own blood to her daughter so that her daughter could live.

Eight days after the earthquake, the mother and daughter were unearthed. The child came out amazingly healthy. The mother, barely alive, survived only because of her love for her child.

What could be more ordinary than the love or a mother and child? What could be more natural than for Susanna to care for her daughter’s needs? To hold her. To give her clothes. To feed her. To song her to sleep. To hold her close. An average mother offering everyday love.

Susanna’s love is lived out in her actions.Just telling her child “I love you.” Would have meant little. So she made her child a warm bed. She fed her blackberry jam. She quenched her daughter’s thirst with her own blood. Her loving actions saved her child’s life. Her passion to act in love had kept her alive as well.

Story ~ An Old Man’s Birthday

http://bill70.multiply.com/journal/item/9
(as retold by William ‘Bill’, link shown above)



The old man woke up early. It was his birthday. "I've got just about everything ready for the kids when they come for my special day. They should get here about noon." He had plenty of food for lunch, and the kinds of drinks he knew they liked. Noon came and went, but the doorbell didn't ring, the phone was silent. "They must have had to detour around that roadwork up north," he thought. "Probably be here by two." About three he wondered what might be keeping them. “I better cover that birthday cake so it'll still be fresh for them when they get here. We can have it for supper desert." He sat on the front porch the rest of the afternoon, where he would be able to see their car making the turn down by the old schoolhouse. "They'll probably be too tired to go out to eat when they get here after such a rough day on the road," he thought. "I better get some things ready for them to have here." Time flew by while he puttered in the kitchen. Only when he noticed it was getting dark outside did he realize it was well past supper time. He sat in the lounge chair by the front door with the window partly open so he would hear them when they pulled in the driveway. When he woke up it wasn't his birthday any more.




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