True Gems

A LETTER WORTH READING

(contributed by Peggy)

This was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend.

*The last line says it all.*

Dear Bertha,

I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard 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 working.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to 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, or the first Amaryllis blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.

"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 others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was. I'm guessing; I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. 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 parents 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, tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

"People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there."

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

FAITH

(Thank you, Peggy)

Faith is something a lot of people relate to
as a God-thing, but it's also faith in yourself.

~Kristin Chenoweth, actress~

Be kinder than necessary,
because everyone you meet
is fighting some kind of battle.

Silence is often misunderstood,
But never misquoted.

To feel rich, count all the things you
have that money can't buy.

Let's remember ―
Its not the years in your life
but, the life in your years.

SAND and STONE

Two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey, they had an argument; and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand, “Today my best friend slapped me in the face.”

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him.

After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone: "Today my best friend saved my life.”

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, “After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, “Why?"

The friend replied, "When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand, where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

Learn to write your hurts in the sand and to carve your benefits in stone. They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.

SHOES IN CHURCH
(from Belinda)

I showered and shaved . . . I adjusted my tie.

I got there and sat . . . in a pew just in time.

Bowing my head in prayer . . . as I closed my eyes.

I saw the shoe of the man next to me . . . touching my own. I sighed.

With plenty of room on either side . . . I thought, "Why must our soles touch?"

It bothered me, his shoe touching mine . . . but it didn't bother him much.

A prayer began: "Our Father" . . . I thought, "This man with the shoes. has no pride.

They're dusty, worn, and scratched. Even worse, there are holes on the side!"

"Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on.

The shoe man said . . . a quiet "Amen."

I tried to focus on the prayer . . . but my thoughts were on his shoes again.

Aren't we supposed to look our best . . . when walking through that door?

"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought, Glancing toward the floor.

Then the prayer was ended . . . and the songs of praise began.

The shoe man was certainly loud . . . sounding proud as he sang.

His voice lifted the rafters . . . his hands were raised high.

The Lord could surely hear . . . the shoe man's voice from the sky.

It was time for the offering . . . and what I threw in was steep.

I watched as the shoe man reached . . . into his pockets so deep.

I saw what was pulled out . . . what the shoe man put in.

Then I heard a soft "clink" . . . as when silver hits tin.

The sermon really bored me . . . to tears, and that's no lie.

It was the same for the shoe man . . . for tears fell from his eyes.

At the end of the service . . . as is the custom here.

We must greet new visitors . . . and show them all good cheer.

But I felt moved somehow . . . and wanted to meet the shoe man.

So after the closing prayer . . . I reached over and shook his hand.

He was old and his skin was dark . . . and his hair was truly a mess.

But I thanked him for coming . . . for being our guest.

He said, "My names' Charlie . . . I'm glad to meet you, my friend."

There were tears in his eyes . . . but he had a large, wide grin.

"Let me explain," he said . . . wiping tears from his eyes.

"I've been coming here for months . . . and you're the first to say 'Hi.'"

"I know that my appearance . . . is not like all the rest.”

"But I really do try . . . to always look my best."

"I always clean and polish my shoes . . . before my very long walk.”

"But by the time I get here . . . they're dirty and dusty, like chalk."

My heart filled with pain . . . and I swallowed to hide my tears.

As he continued to apologize . . . for daring to sit so near.

He said, "When I get here . . . I know I must look a sight.

"But I thought if I could touch you . . . then maybe our souls might unite."

I was silent for a moment . . . knowing whatever was said

Would pale in comparison . . . I spoke from my heart, not my head.

"Oh, you've touched me," I said . . . and taught me, in part;

"That the best of any man . . . is what is found in his heart."

The rest, I thought . . . this shoe man will never know.

Like just how thankful I really am . . . that his dirty old shoe touched my soul Remember, everyone needs a friend.

Someday you might feel like you have no friends at all. Just remember this story and take comfort in knowing that someone out there cares about you . . . and always will.

This kind of stuff inspires me . . . maybe you too