CupCakes And RootBeer

There once was a little boy who wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with cupcakes, several cans of root beer and started on his journey.

When he had gone about three blocks, he saw an elderly woman. She was sitting on a park bench watching the pigeons. The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase. He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed the lady looked hungry so he offered her a cupcake. She gratefully accepted and smiled at him.

Her smile was so wonderful that he wanted to see it again, so he offered a root beer as well. Once again she smiled at him. The boy was delighted!

They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling without saying a word.

As it began to grow dark, the boy realized how tired he was and wanted to go home. He got up to leave but before he had gone no more than a few steps, he turned around and ran back to the old woman, giving her a big hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.

When the boy arrived home his Mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. She asked, What has made you so happy today He replied, I had lunch with God. Before his mother could respond he added, You know what She's got the most beautiful smile in the whole world!

Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home. Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face. He asked, Mother, what has made you so happy today She replied, I ate cupcakes in the park with God. And before her son could reply, she added, You know, he is much younger than I expected.

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring; all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Take no one for granted and embrace all equally with joy!

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Little Moments Of Joy

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry.

Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep.

But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.

"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient at the end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, ...but they will always remember how you made them feel.
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What Happens In Heaven

Contributed By: Shilpa Gudwani
This is one of the nicest mails I have seen and is so true:

I dreamt that I went to Heaven and an angel was showing me around. We
walked side-by-side inside a large workroom filled
with angels.

My angel guide stopped in front of the first section and said, "This
is the Receiving Section. Here, all petitions to God said in prayer
are received."

I looked around in this area, and it was terribly busy with so many
angels sorting out petitions written on voluminous paper sheets and
scraps from people all over the world.

Then we moved on down a long corridor until we reached the second section.

The angel then said to me, "This is the Packaging and Delivery
Section. Here, the graces and blessings the people asked for are
processed and delivered to the living persons who asked for them."

I noticed again how busy it was there. There were many angels working
hard at that station, since so many blessings had been requested and
were being packaged for delivery to Earth.

Finally at the farthest end of the long corridor we stopped at the
door of a very small station. To my great surprise, only one angel was
seated there, idly doing nothing. "This is the Acknowledgment
Section," my angel friend quietly admitted to me. He seemed
embarrassed "How is it that? There's no work going on here?" I asked.

"So sad," the angel sighed. "After people receive the blessings that
they asked for, very few send back acknowledgments.

"How does one acknowledge God's blessings?" I asked.

"Simple," the angel answered. "Just say, "Thank you, God."

"What blessings should they acknowledge? " I asked.

"If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof
overhead and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of this world.
"If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a
dish, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.

"And if you get this on your own computer, you are part of the 1% in
the world who has that opportunity. "

Also .....

"If you woke up this morning with more health than illness .... you
are more blessed than the many who will not even survive this day.

"If you have never experienced the fear in battle, the loneliness of
imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation .....
you are ahead of 700 million people in the world.

"If you can attend a prayer meeting without the fear of harassment,
arrest, torture or death you are envied by, and more blessed than,
three billion people in the world.

"If your parents are still alive and still married... you are very rare.

If you can hold your head up and smile, you are not the norm, you're
unique to all those in doubt and despair."

Ok, what now? How can I start?

If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing in
that someone was thinking of you as very special and you are more
blessed than over two billion people in the world who cannot read at
all.

Have a good day, count your blessings, and if you want, pass this
along to remind everyone else how blessed we all are.
Attn: Acknowledgment Dept:

Thank You God !

Thank you God, for giving me the ability to share this message and for
giving me so many wonderful people to share it with".

Bucket Filler Or Dipper?

You have heard of the cup that overflowed. This is a story of a bucket
that is like the cup, only larger, it is an invisible bucket. Everyone
has one. It determines how we feel about ourselves, about others, and
how we get along with people. Have you ever experienced a series of
very favorable things which made you want to be good to people for a
week? At that time, your bucket was full.

A bucket can be filled by a lot of things that happen. When a person
speaks to you, recognizing you as a human being, your bucket is filled
a little. Even more if he calls you by name, especially if it is the
name you like to be called. If he compliments you on your dress or on
a job well done, the level in your bucket goes up still higher. There
must be a million ways to raise the level in another's bucket. Writing
a friendly letter, remembering something that is special to him,
knowing the names of his children, expressing sympathy for his loss,
giving him a hand when his work is heavy, taking time for
conversation, or, perhaps more important, listing to him.

When one's bucket is full of this emotional support, one can express
warmth and friendliness to people. But, remember, this is a theory
about a bucket and a dipper. Other people have dippers and they can
get their dippers in your bucket. This, too, can be done in a million
ways.

Lets say I am at a dinner and inadvertently upset a glass of thick,
sticky chocolate milk that spills over the table cloth, on a lady's
skirt, down onto the carpet. I am embarrassed. "Bright Eyes" across
the table says, "You upset that glass of chocolate milk." I made a
mistake, I know I did, and then he told me about it! He got his dipper
in my bucket! Think of the times a person makes a mistake, feels
terrible about it, only to have someone tell him about the known
mistake ("Red pencil" mentality!)

Buckets are filled and buckets are emptied ? emptied many times
because people don't really think about what are doing. When a
person's bucket is emptied, he is very different than when it is full.
You say to a person whose bucket is empty, "That is a pretty tie you
have," and he may reply in a very irritated, defensive manner.

Although there is a limit to such an analogy, there are people who
seem to have holes in their buckets. When a person has a hole in his
bucket, he irritates lots of people by trying to get his dipper in
their buckets. This is when he really needs somebody to pour it in his
bucket because he keeps losing.

The story of our lives is the interplay of the bucket and the dipper.
Everyone has both. The unyielding secret of the bucket and the dipper
is that when you fill another's bucket it does not take anything out
of your own bucket. The level in our own bucket gets higher when we
fill another's, and, on the other hand, when we dip into another's
bucket we do not fill our own ... we lose a little.

For a variety of reasons, people hesitate filling the bucket of
another and consequently do not experience the fun, joy, happiness,
fulfillment, and satisfaction connected with making another person
happy. Some reasons for this hesitancy are that people think it sounds
"fakey," or the other person will be suspicious of the motive, or it
is "brown-nosing."

Therefore, let us put aside our dipper and resolve to touch someone's
life in order to fill their bucket.
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The Secret

Contributed By: Shilpa

One day, one friend asked another,
"How is it that you are always so happy?
You have so much energy,
and you never seem to get down."

With her eyes smiling, she said,
"I know the Secret!"
"What secret is that?"
To which she replied,
"I'll tell you all about it,
but you have to promise to
share the Secret with others."

"The Secret is this:
I have learned there is little I can do
in my life that will make me truly happy..
I must depend on God to make
me happy and to meet my needs.
When a need arises in my life,
I have to trust God to supply
according to HIS riches.
I have learned most of the time
I don't need half of what I think I do.
He has never let me down.
Since I learned that 'Secret', I am happy."

The questioner's first thought was,
"That's too simple!"
But upon reflecting over her own life
she recalled how she thought a bigger house
would make her happy, but it didn't!
She thought a better paying job
would make her happy, but it hadn't.
When did she realize her greatest happiness?
Sitting on the floor with her grandchildren,
playing games, eating pizza or reading a story,
a simple gift from God.

Now you know it too!
We can't depend on people to make us happy.
Only GOD in His infinite wisdom can do that.
Trust HIM!
And now I pass the Secret on to you!
So once you get it, what will you do?

Short Story By Tagore

Contributed By: Kirti Jain

The man was quite a loafer.

He did not have any work to do, but had lots of hobbies.

He used to pour earth into little wooden moulds and decorate them with
oyster-shells. From a distance it looked like a hazy picture with a
flight of birds in it; or like an uneven field with cattle grazing; or
maybe like an undulating hilly landscape with a stream or a hikers'
path running across it.

His folks used to rebuke him. Sometimes he also thought that he would
give up all these crazy ideas. But craziness refused to leave him
alone.

--- 2 ---

There are some boys who neglect their studies throughout the year, but
pass the exams nevertheless. Something similar happenned to this man.

All his life was spent in worthless pursuits. And yet after his death,
he heard that he had been allowed admission to heaven.

But providence accompanies a man even on his way to heaven. The angels
made a mistake and put him into the heaven of the workaholics.

There was everything in that heaven except a little time to relax.

There every man was saying, ``Hardly have any time to breathe!'' Every
woman was saying, ``See you later, I'll have to get back to work.''
Everybody was saying, ``Time is extremely valuable!'' No one was
saying, ``Time is invaluable.'' Everyone was complaining, ``There's a
hell of a lot of work'', and was feeling quite pleased with that. The
theme song for this place was --- ``I am really tired working.''

This fellow did not fit anywhere, did not know where to go. He walked
carelessly on the streets and got in the way of busy people. He spread
his towel by the side of the road and sat down. People told him that
he was sitting on plant beds where seeds had been sown. So all the
time he had to move aside, he had to leave his place.

--- 3 ---

A very busy girl came everyday to take water from the fountain of heaven.

The lilt of her walk was like a fast tune played on a sitar.

She tied her hair in a quick braid. Even then a few strands of hair
freed themselves from that knot and leaned forward on her forehead, as
if just to catch a glimpse of her black and beautiful eyes.

The heavenly loafer was standing nearby, as still as a tree beside the
restive fountain.

The girl took pity on him, much like a princess at the sight of a
beggar through her palace window.

``Poor thing! Don't you have any work to do?''

The man heaved a sigh and said, ``I have no time for work.''

The girl did not have any idea of what he was talking about. She said,
``Do you want some work to do? I can give you some.''

The man said, ``Yes, I wanted some work right from your hands. That is
why I have been waiting here.''

``What kind of work do you want?''

``I was wondering if you could lend me one of those pitchers that you
fill up with water.''

``What do you want to do with a pitcher? Want to carry water?''

``Not at all. I want to draw pictures on it.''

The girl was annoyed. She said, ``I'm running out of time. I've got to go.''

But a person of work can never match the arguments of a person of no
work. Every single day they met near the fountain, and everyday the
man said the same thing, ``Why don't you lend me a pitcher, I want to
draw pictures on it.''

The girl gave up. She lent him a pitcher.

The man started painting on it all around --- beautiful colors,
beautiful curves.

When he had finished, the girl picked up the pitcher. She held it in
her hand and looked at it from all directions. Then she frowned and
said, ``What does it mean?''

The man said, ``It doesn't mean anything.''

The girl went home with her pitcher.

When nobody else was around, she looked at the pitcher. She looked at
it from different angles, in different shades of light. When everyone
else had fallen asleep, she got out of her bed, lit the lamp, and sat
silently in front of the pitcher. This was the first thing she saw in
her life which did not have any meaning.

On the following day, when she arrived at the fountain, she was not
walking as swiftly as before. Her feet were getting careless while
walking --- as if they were thinking of something --- something which
did not have any meaning.

The man was standing by the side of the fountain that day as well.

The girl asked him, ``What do you want?''

He said, ``I want more work from you.''

``What kind of work?''

``If you want, I can weave colorful strings and make ribbons for you
so that you can braid your hair with them.''

``What use will that come to?''

``No use at all.''

The ribbons were made in due time --- in various colors, in various
designs. From that time on, the girl needed more time near the mirror
while braiding her hair. Hours passed by, work remained undone.

--- 4 ---

At the heaven of workaholics, among the vast space of work and work
and work, very soon there appeared huge voids. Songs and sobs started
filling up those voids.

The authorities got anxious. They called a meeting. They said,
``Nothing of its kind has happened in the history of this place,''

The angel admitted the mistake. He said, ``I brought the wrong man
into the wrong heaven.''

The wrong man was summonned to the court. At the sight of him entering
the courthouse, wearing a colorful turban and a lavishly decorated
belt, everyone understood that this man was a big misfit.

The chairman said, ``You will have to go back to earth.''

The man picked up his paints, brush and easel. He heaved a big sigh of
relief and said, ``Okay, see you then.''

The girl came and said, ``I want to go as well.''

The elderly chairman was puzzled. This was the first thing he saw in
his life which did not have any meaning at all.
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Life And The Ant

One morning I wasted nearly an hour watching a tiny ant carry a huge
feather cross my back terrace. Several times it was confronted by
obstacles in its path and after a momentary pause it would make the
necessary detour.

At one point the ant had to negotiate a crack in the concrete about
10mm wide. After brief contemplation the ant laid the feather over the
crack, walked across it and picked up the feather on the other side
then continued on its way. I was fascinated by the ingenuity of this
ant, one of God's smallest creatures. It served to reinforce the
miracle of creation. Here was a minute insect, lacking in size yet
equipped with a brain to reason, explore, discover and overcome. But
this ant, like the two-legged co-residents of this planet, also share
human failings.

After some time the ant finally reached its destination - a flower bed
at the end of the terrace and a small hole that was the entrance to
its underground home. And it was here that the ant finally met its
match. How could that large feather possibly fit down small hole

Of course it couldn't. so the ant, after all this trouble and
exercising great ingenuity, overcoming problems all along the way,
just abandoned the feather and went home.

The ant had not thought the problem through before it began its epic
journey and in the end the feather was nothing more than a burden.
Isn't life like that!

We worry about our family, we worry about money or the lack of it, we
worry about work, about where we live, about all sorts of things.
These are all burdens - the things we pick up along life's path and
lug them around the obstacles and over the crevasses that life will
bring, only to find that at the destination they are useless and we
can't take them with us...
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