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Inspiration

Big doors swing on little hinges.

I remember as a kid visiting the Art Museum in Centennial Park in Nashville Tennessee.  For those of you that havent been there they have created a full scale replica of the Greek Parthenon and the 42 foot statue of Athena.   It is truely an amazing sight and not something you expect to see in Tennessee.  One of the things I remember the most was that there was a set of huge doors at each end.  Each door was 7 feet wide, 24 feet high, one foot thick and made of bronze.  Each of these doors were 7 1/2 tons each yet I could push them easily with a finger.  These hinges were holding up doors that were thousands of times their weight.  I remember my mother quoting W. Clement Stone to me“Big doors swing on little hinges”

Parthanon in Tennessee

Just like so many things in life, it’s the attention to the “little things” that can have a big effect.  So what are some of the “little things” that make a big difference in our real estate careers and in our personal lives?

 

Listening. The first step to communication isn’t speaking it is listening.    Have you ever been talking with someone and realized that your attention was wandering and you had no idea what they just said? Effective listening isn’t just being quiet so someone can talk it means we actually hear what someone is saying.  (whether client or spouse they can get real mad when your not listening!)  Not such a little thing.

 

Consistency. People want to know what to expect from you.  If you  say you will be there at 2:00 are they wondering where you are at 2:15?  Do you return your calls and emails?  Are you on the ball, can you get the job done?  Are you blogging regularily?  Do you explain what is happening during a sale to your clients, your lender, your escrow officer, your broker?  You never want people to wonder what is coming next. Not such a little thing.

 

Attitude. No one really wants to deal with a crab or a pessimist or someone that is full of ego and trying to make themselves bigger by walking on someone elses shoulders. We all have an off day but attitude is contagious and it makes a big difference in how you interact with the people around you.  Not such a little thing.

 

Trust. Trust can either be fragile or or incredibly strong.  On a daily basis we meet a wide range of people that may be naturally trusting or overly skeptical. If you think about it we are asking a complete stranger to trust us with the biggest and most intimate things in their life.  We want them to entrust us with their home, their family, their  dreams, their finances.  Certainly not a little thing.

 

Organization. This one might be the hardest thing of all to master for most people.  When you  are well organized everything moves smoother and easier.  Did you loose a clients phone number because it was on a sticky note that went who knows where?  Can you find that important document that needs to be sent in the next 2 minutes?  Can you remember what time you were supposed to be at the appointment?  Does your  desk, car, house  look like a bomb went off?  Do you have everything you need to make a listing presentation or are you going to just show up and hope it works?

hinge

This list can be quite a bit longer what things come to your mind?  It is the attention to the “little things” that can have a big effect   Just remember it is the small hinges that can swing big doors.

Footsteps in the Sand Inspirational

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed
he was walking along the beach with the LORD.


Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.
For each scene he noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand: one belonging
to him, and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him,
he looked back at the footprints in the sand.


He noticed that many times along the path of
his life there was only one set of footprints.

He also noticed that it happened at the very
lowest and saddest times in his life.


This really bothered him and he
questioned the LORD about it:


“LORD, you said that once I decided to follow
you, you’d walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most
troublesome times in my life,
there is only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why when
I needed you most you would leave me.”

The LORD replied:


“My son, my precious child,
I love you and I would never leave you.
During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.”

 

 

 

The Folded Napkin

I don’t know where this originated, and I  don’t know if it’s true…but, I would like to think so

The Folded Napkin – A Trucker Stop Story.
If this doesn’t light your fire, your wood is wet!

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn’t sure I wanted one. I wasn’t sure how my customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn’t worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don’t generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The ones who concerned me were the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded ‘truck stop germ’; the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks…

I shouldn’t have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.

After that, I really didn’t care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and peppershaker was exactly in its place, not a breadcrumb Or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table.

Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.

If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That’s why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.

He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn’t unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.

Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.

Bell Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.

Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Bell Ringer a withering look.

He grinned. ‘OK, Frannie , what was that all about?’ he asked..

‘We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.’

‘I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him What was the surgery about?’

Frannie quickly told Bell Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie’s surgery then sighed: ‘Yeah, I’m glad he is going to be OK,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they’re barely getting by as it is.’ Bell Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn’t had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn’t want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.

‘What’s up?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t get that table where Bell Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,’ she said. ‘This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.’

She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed ‘Something For Stevie’.

‘Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,’ she said, ‘so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.’
She handed me another paper napkin that had ‘Something For Stevie’ scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: ‘Truckers!!’

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.

His placement worker said he’s been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn’t matter at all that it was a holiday. He called ten times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.


I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

‘Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,’ I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. ‘Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!’

I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.

I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins ‘First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,’ I said. I tried to sound stern.

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had ‘Something for Stevie’ printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.

Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. ‘There’s more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. ‘Happy Thanksgiving.’

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.

But you know what’s funny?
While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table….

Best worker I ever hired.

Plant a seed and watch it grow.

At this point, you can bury this inspirational message or forward it, fulfilling the need!

If you shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person.

Well.. Don’t just sit there! Send
this story on! Keep it going, this is a good one!

Blessed are those who can give  without remembering and take without forgetting.

Rocks and Sand

A philosophy professor stood before his class and had some items in
front of him. When class began, wordlessly he picked up a large
empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, rocks
about 2″ in diameter.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them
into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course,
rolled into the open areas between the rocks.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The students laughed. The professor picked up a box of sand and
poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else.

“Now,” said the professor, “I want you to recognize that this is
your life. The rocks are the important things – your family, your
partner, your health, your children – anything that is so important
to you that if it were lost, you would be nearly destroyed.

“The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your
house, your car.

“The sand is everything else. The small stuff.

“If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the
pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend
all your energy and time on the small stuff, you will never have
room for the things that are important to you.

“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your
partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean
the house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal.

“Take care of the rocks first – the things that really matter. Set
your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

Most Important Question

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

1000 marbles

How many marbles do you have?

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it’s the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, of maybe it’s the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the kitchen, with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life seems
to hand you from time to time.

Let me tell you about it. I turned the volume up on my radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning talk show. I heard an older sounding chap with a golden voice. You know the kind, he sounded like he should be in the
broadcasting business himself.

He was talking about “a thousand marbles” to someone named “Tom”. I was intrigued and sat down to listen to
what he had to say. “Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you’re busy with your job. I’m sure they pay you well but it’s a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your daughter’s dance recital. ” He continued, “Let me tell you something Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities.” And that’s when he began to explain his theory of a “thousand marbles.”

“You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years.” “Now then, I multiplied 75
times 52 and I came up with 3900 which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime.

“Now stick with me Tom, I’m getting to the important part. “It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail”, he went on, “and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. “I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy. “So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round-up 1000 marbles. “I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here in my workshop next to the radio. Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away.

“I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight. “Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday then God has blessed me with a little extra time to be with my loved ones…… “It was nice to talk to you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your loved ones, and I hope to meet you again someday. Have a good morning!”

You could have heard a pin drop when he finished. Even the show’s moderator didn’t have anything to say for a few moments. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to do some work that morning, then go to the
gym. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. “C’mon honey, I’m taking you and the kids to breakfast.” “What brought this on?” she asked with a smile. “Oh, nothing special,” I said. ” It has just been a
long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we’re out? I need to buy some marbles.”

Information Please

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person – her name was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know. “Information Please” could supply anybody’s number and the correct time. My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. “Information Please,” I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

“Information”
“I hurt my finger…” I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.
“Nobody’s home but me.” I blubbered.
“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.
“No,” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.”
“Can you open your icebox?” she asked. I said I could. “Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.

After that, I called “Information Please” for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had
caught in the park just he day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called “Information Please” and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?”

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.” Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. “Information Please.”
“Information,” said the now familiar voice.
“How do you spell fix?” I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.

“Information Please” belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, “Information, Please.” Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, “Information.”

I hadn’t planned this but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?”
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, “I guess your finger must have healed by now.”
I laughed. “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time.”

“I wonder”, she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls.” I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

“Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally.”
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered “Information.”
I asked for Sally.
“Are you a friend?” She said.
“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, she said. Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.”

Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you.” The note said, “Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.”

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

* Anonymous

Roses

Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose.
And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.
The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door.
The card said, “Be my Valentine”, like all the years before.

Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,
“I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.
My love for you will always grow, with every passing year.”
She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.

She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away.
He always liked to do things early, way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.
She would sit for hours, in her husband’s favorite chair.
While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.

A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate.
With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate.
Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,
The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock.
Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop.
The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain,
Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?

“I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago,”
The owner said, “I knew you’d call, and you would want to know.
The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance.
Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance.

There is a standing order, that I have on file down here,
And he has paid, well in advance, you’ll get them every year.
There also is another thing, that I think you should know,
He wrote a special little card…he did this years ago.

Then, should ever I find out that he’s no longer here,
That’s the card…that should be sent, to you the following year.”
She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.

Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.
Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote…
“Hello my love, I know it’s been a year since I’ve been gone,
I hope it hasn’t been too hard for you to overcome.

I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real.
For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife.

You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need.
I know it’s only been a year, but please try not to grieve.
I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.

When you get these roses, think of all the happiness,
That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.

Please…try to find happiness, while living out your days.
I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.
The roses will come every year, and they will only stop,
When your door’s not answered, when the florist stops to knock.

He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,
To take the roses to the place, where I’ve instructed him,
And place the roses where we are, together once again.

Sometimes in life, you find a special friend;
Someone who changes your life just by being part of it.
Someone who makes you laugh until you can’t stop;
Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world.
Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just
waiting for you to open it. This is Forever Friendship.

by: James A. Kisner

I’ve learned that…

I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.

I’ve learned that no matter how much I care, some people just don’t care back

I’ve learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.

I’ve learned that it’s not what you have in your life, but who you have in your life that counts.

I’ve learned that you can get by on charm for about 15 minutes. After that, you’d better know something.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t compare yourself to the best others can do, but to the best you can do.

I’ve learned that it’s not what happens to people that’s important. It’s what they do about it.

I’ve learned that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides.

I’ve learned that it’s taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

I’ve learned that it’s a lot easier to react than it is to think.

I’ve learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I’ve learned that you can keep going long after you think you can’t.

I’ve learned that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I’ve learned that either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I’ve learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place. (Amen to that!)

I’ve learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I’ve learned that learning to forgive takes practice.

I’ve learned that there are people who love you dearly, but just don’t know how to show it.

I’ve learned that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I’ve learned that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I’ve learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you’re down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I’ve learned that I’m getting more and more like my grandma, and I’m kinda happy about it.

I’ve learned that sometimes when I’m angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel.

I’ve learned that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I’ve learned that just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.

I’ve learned that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated.

I’ve learned that you should never tell a child her dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if she believed it

I’ve learned that your family won’t always be there for you. It may seem funny, but people you aren’t related to can take care of you and love you and teach you to trust people again. Families aren’t biological.

I’ve learned that no matter how good a friend someone is, they’re going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I’ve learned that it isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I’ve learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

I’ve learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I’ve learned that sometimes when my friends fight, I’m forced to choose sides even when I don’t want to.

I’ve learned that just because two people argue, it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. And just because they don’t argue, it doesn’t mean they do.

I’ve learned that sometimes you have to put the individual ahead of their actions.

I’ve learned that we don’t have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I’ve learned that if you don’t want to forget something, stick it in your underwear drawer.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I’ve learned that the clothes I like best are the ones with the most holes in them.

I’ve learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

I’ve learned that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process.

I’ve learned that there are many ways of falling and staying in love.

I’ve learned that no matter the consequences, those who are honest with themselves, get farther in life.

I’ve learned that many things can be powered by the mind, the trick is self-control.

I’ve learned that no matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar, you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

I’ve learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don’t even know you.

I’ve learned that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

I’ve learned that writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.

I’ve learned that the paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us.

I’ve learned that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

I’ve learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon.

I’ve learned that although the word “love” can have many different meaning, it loses value when overly used.

I’ve learned that it’s hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people’s feelings and standing up for what you believe.

Author Unk.

The Wolves Within

An old Grandfather, whose grandson came to him with anger at a schoolmate who had done him an injustice, said, “Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times.”

He continued, “It is as if there are two wolves inside me; one is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.”

“But the other wolf, ah! He is full of anger. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit.”

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather’s eye and asked, “Which one wins, Grandfather?”

The Grandfather solemnly said, “The one I feed.”

Rain Silverhawk reviews