Heart warming stories
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A warm smile is the universal language of kindness
How To Dance In The Rain
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, 
arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as
he had an appointment at 9:00 am.
I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an
hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his
watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate
his wound.
On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the
needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.
While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's
appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no,
that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.
I inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while
and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease. As we talked, I asked if
she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew
who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.
I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though
she doesn't know who you are?'
He smiled as he patted my hand and said, 'She doesn't know me, but I still
know who she is.'
I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and
thought, 'That is the kind of love I want in my life.'
True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of
all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.
The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just
make the best of everything they have.
'Life isn't about how to survive the storm,
but how to dance in the rain.'
I'm Invisible
> >
> > It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response,
> > the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone
> > and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see
> > I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone,
> > or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the
> > corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible; "The
> > Invisible Mom."
> >
> > Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this?
> > Can you tie this? Can you open this?
> >
> > Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a
> > clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer,
> > 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around
> > 5:30, please.'
> >
> > I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
> > eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude
> > - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be
> > seen again. She's going, she's going, and she's gone!
> >
> > One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of
> > a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous
> > trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was
> > sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well.
> > It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down
> > at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was
> > clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid
> > I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty
> > pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package,
> > and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals
> > of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read
> > her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of
> > what you are building when no one sees.'
> >
> > In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would
> > discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after
> > which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great
> > cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave
> > their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made
> > great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building
> > was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
> >
> > A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
> > cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a
> > tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man,
> > 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that
> > will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman
> > replied, 'Because God sees.'
> >
> > I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was
> > almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I
> > see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you
> > does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no
> > cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over.
> > You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what
> > it will become.'
> >
> > At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
> > disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my
> > own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn
> > pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great
> > builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will
> > never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be
> > on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals
> > could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people
> > willing to sacrifice to that degree.
> >
> > When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend
> > he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4
> > in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a
> > turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That
> > would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him
> > to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to
> > his friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'
> >
> > As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if
> > we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world
> > will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that
> > has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
> >
> > Great Job, MOM!
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To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
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