http://storiesthatlift.com/ en-GB (c) 2009 www.storeiesthatlift.com - Uplifting stories for the whole family! no stories, farytales, fary tales, children stories, childrens stories, storiesthatlift.com, uplifting, classic stories, farie tales, farietales Uplifting and heart-warming stories brought to you by storiesthatlift.com and our beloved readers. Great for the whole family! Uplifting and heart-warming stories brought to you by storiesthatlift.com and our beloved readers. Great for the whole family! www.storiesthatlift.com     (Audio by Bill Hemberger)   “Mom, I can’t find my baseball glove,” Mikey said, as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. “I have a game with the guys in an hour and it’s completely gone.” He frowned and fiddled with a loose string on the cushion next to him.    His mom set her book down and looked over her reading glasses. “Oh, that’s too bad. Have you checked your room?”   Mikey was offended. “What do I look like? Of course I did.”   “Michael McGee!”   He winced. “Sorry, Mom. I’ve looked everywhere – behind the dresser and under the bed. It’s not there.”   “Hmm, could you borrow one of your friends’ gloves for the game until yours pops up?”   “I wish. None of the guys are lefty’s.” Mikey slumped deeper into the couch. “It’s hopeless.”   “Well, have you asked Eyes to have a look around for you?” Mikey’s little sister, Abigail, could find anything. That’s why they called her Eyes. It didn’t matter what it was or where you’d lost it – she’d always find it.    “No, she isn’t home.”   “She must be helping Missus Wickle still.”   “Yeah and I wish she’d hurry up already.”    The back screen door opened and slammed shut, cutting him off. “Mom, you’ll never believe where I found Missus Wickle’s keys,” Eyes shouted from the kitchen.    Mikey was relieved. “Hey Eyes, I need your help,” he hollered.   “Okey doke,” she called back. Her quick steps echoed on the tiled floor. Abigail skipped into the living room, her big, brown eyes opened wide, her curly red hair bouncing. “What’s up?”   “I can’t find my baseball glove. Would you look around for it for me?”   “Sure,” Eyes said. She narrowed her eyes, showing she was already deep in thought. “Did you look in the fridge?”   Mikey laughed. “No, there’s no way my glove could be in there.”    “How do you know if you haven’t looked? I found Missus Wickle’s keys in a bowl of chocolate pudding in the fridge,” Eyes said as she stomped her foot. “And if you’re going to laugh, you can find your own silly glove.”    “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Please find it.”    She glared at him, then turned around and went back into the kitchen.    He got off the couch and followed her. Mikey knew better than to tease her too much. She always found things because she thought to look places it would never occur to anyone else to look. He knew, with Eyes on the case, his baseball glove was as good as found.   She was closing the refrigerator door when he got into the kitchen. “Well, you were right, it wasn’t in there.” She started opening all the drawers and cupboards.   Mikey bit his tongue and didn’t say, I told you so. “Really?” he said instead. “Missus Wickle’s keys were in pudding?”   “Yeah,” Eyes said with a giggle. “Her keys were a chocolatey mess. Hmm, did you look in the dog’s house?”   He really tried hard not to laugh and sound serious as he said, “No, I didn’t think to look there.”   “Well, Barker could’ve taken it. He has that squeaker toy that looks like a baseball glove, you know.”   Mikey hadn’t thought of that. He raced with Eyes out the backdoor to check but Barker was in his house, blocking the opening. He was chewing and slobbering all over something and Mikey couldn’t tell what it was because it was mostly in Barker’s mouth.    “Hey boy,” Mikey said, reaching into the house. Please don’t be my glove. “Whatcha got?”   Barker barked and dropped a bone. Mikey let out a sigh of relief, grabbed it and threw it across the yard -- Barker chased after it. With Barker’s big spotted butt out of the way, they looked through all his toys.   No sign of the glove, not even the squeaking one. Mikey tried not to be too disappointed -- he’d really hoped to find the glove there. But he figured it was better that it wasn’t with Barker. Otherwise it could’ve been all chewed up and wet like the bone.   “Not here,” Eyes said cheerfully. “Okay, let’s see. Did you check the bathtub?”   The bathtub? Mikey shook his head. “No.”   “Geez Mikey, where did you look?”   “I searched my room from top to bottom – where it should’ve been.”   “Beginner,” she said and stuck out her tongue.   Eyes turned and Mikey followed her back into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. “I really don’t think you’re going to find it --”   “Ah ha!” Eyes reached into the tub and pulled out Mikey’s glove. “Here it is.”    “What was it doing in there?”   “How should I know?” Eyes asked, handing him the glove. “I didn’t put it there.”   Mikey snorted and ran out of the bathroom. He had a game to get to.   “You’re welcome,” she called after him.   “Thanks Eyes, I’ll win it for you,” he shouted back.        (Audio by Bill Hemberger)   “Mom, I can’t find my baseball glove,” Mikey said, as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. “I have a game with the guys in an hour and it’s completely gone.” He frowned and fiddled with a loose string on the cushion next to him.    His mom set her book down and looked over her reading glasses. “Oh, that’s too bad. Have you checked your room?”   Mikey was offended. “What do I look like? Of course I did.”   “Michael McGee!”   He winced. “Sorry, Mom. I’ve looked everywhere – behind the dresser and under the bed. It’s not there.”   “Hmm, could you borrow one of your friends’ gloves for the game until yours pops up?”   “I wish. None of the guys are lefty’s.” Mikey slumped deeper into the couch. “It’s hopeless.”   “Well, have you asked Eyes to have a look around for you?” Mikey’s little sister, Abigail, could find anything. That’s why they called her Eyes. It didn’t matter what it was or where you’d lost it – she’d always find it.    “No, she isn’t home.”   “She must be helping Missus Wickle still.”   “Yeah and I wish she’d hurry up already.”    The back screen door opened and slammed shut, cutting him off. “Mom, you’ll never believe where I found Missus Wickle’s keys,” Eyes shouted from the kitchen.    Mikey was relieved. “Hey Eyes, I need your help,” he hollered.   “Okey doke,” she called back. Her quick steps echoed on the tiled floor. Abigail skipped into the living room, her big, brown eyes opened wide, her curly red hair bouncing. “What’s up?”   “I can’t find my baseball glove. Would you look around for it for me?”   “Sure,” Eyes said. She narrowed her eyes, showing she was already deep in thought. “Did you look in the fridge?”   Mikey laughed. “No, there’s no way my glove could be in there.”    “How do you know if you haven’t looked? I found Missus Wickle’s keys in a bowl of chocolate pudding in the fridge,” Eyes said as she stomped her foot. “And if you’re going to laugh, you can find your own silly glove.”    “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Please find it.”    She glared at him, then turned around and went back into the kitchen.    He got off the couch and followed her. Mikey knew better than to tease her too much. She always found things because she thought to look places it would never occur to anyone else to look. He knew, with Eyes on the case, his baseball glove was as good as found.   She was closing the refrigerator door when he got into the kitchen. “Well, you were right, it wasn’t in there.” She started opening all the drawers and cupboards.   Mikey bit his tongue and didn’t say, I told you so. “Really?” he said instead. “Missus Wickle’s keys were in pudding?”   “Yeah,” Eyes said with a giggle. “Her keys were a chocolatey mess. Hmm, did you look in the dog’s house?”   He really tried hard not to laugh and sound serious as he said, “No, I didn’t think to look there.”   “Well, Barker could’ve taken it. He has that squeaker toy that looks like a baseball glove, you know.”   Mikey hadn’t thought of that. He raced with Eyes out the backdoor to check but Barker was in his house, blocking the opening. He was chewing and slobbering all over something and Mikey couldn’t tell what it was because it was mostly in Barker’s mouth.    “Hey boy,” Mikey said, reaching into the house. Please don’t be my glove. “Whatcha got?”   Barker barked and dropped a bone. Mikey let out a sigh of relief, grabbed it and threw it across the yard -- Barker chased after it. With Barker’s big spotted butt out of the way, they looked through all his toys.   No sign of the glove, not even the squeaking one. Mikey tried not to be too disappointed -- he’d really hoped to find the glove there. But he figured it was better that it wasn’t with Barker. Otherwise it could’ve been all chewed up and wet like the bone.   “Not here,” Eyes said cheerfully. “Okay, let’s see. Did you check the bathtub?”   The bathtub? Mikey shook his head. “No.”   “Geez Mikey, where did you look?”   “I searched my room from top to bottom – where it should’ve been.”   “Beginner,” she said and stuck out her tongue.   Eyes turned and Mikey followed her back into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. “I really don’t think you’re going to find it --”   “Ah ha!” Eyes reached into the tub and pulled out Mikey’s glove. “Here it is.”    “What was it doing in there?”   “How should I know?” Eyes asked, handing him the glove. “I didn’t put it there.”   Mikey snorted and ran out of the bathroom. He had a game to get to.   “You’re welcome,” she called after him.   “Thanks Eyes, I’ll win it for you,” he shouted back.    http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/eyes-mcgee-saves-the-day-hemberger.mp3 Wed, 18 Nov 2009 16:48:42 -0700 From the corner of his eye Arne Carlson could just see tiny snippets of life unfolding outside of his hospice window. Young children were playing ball at the park adjacent to the property and several moms gathered around strollers with pony tails bobbing were sharing animated conversation. Arne let his mind drift to those simple pleasures he had once enjoyed. His voice, struck silent from the last stroke three weeks ago, was unable to ask the attendant to turn his head further so he could drink in what would surely be his final views of what was an unremarkable, but immanently satisfying life. At 93, Arne had outlived his wife of 57 years and most of his friends. Childless, Arne had planned for his care and final arrangements long before this day had arrived. He was relieved that he was comfortable in his final days and had reflected these past few weeks on the impact that he had made on others throughout his lifetime. Had he made his mark in the world? Had he tried hard enough to make the world a better place? Without children would anyone even remember him? These thoughts churned like a chugging locomotive in his mind as he allowed himself to drift into half sleep, half daydream. He knew what time remained would be measured in days, not weeks, so in spite of the prison his body had become, he made the most of his time challenging his past efforts as he took in the view the window was affording him. He hoped he had made a difference in others lives. The golden rule meant something to Arne Carlson. He prided himself in demonstrating patience, tolerance and respect for friends, family, and strangers alike. He was not a big dreamer, nor did he have outlandish aspirations. A modest life, a wife to shower with affection, good friends, some travel, good books and a comfortable retirement were all Arne ever wanted for and he was rewarded with just such an existence. His legacy, he mused, would be a silent one, experienced a thousand times over throughout the course of his lifetime. Arne Carlson was an unassuming, decent man who found pleasure in extending the smallest courtesies to others. An anachronism in the hurried life of the era in which he lived, Arne always took an extra moment to hold a door, give back the extra change received in error, let a car into traffic, help a child who was momentarily lost in a department store. Life was a series of small transactions thought Arne; why not make them as pleasant as possible? So many daily inconveniences face us all: Who among us hasn’t been cut off in traffic? Been hung up on by dialers of wrong numbers? Provided with erroneous directions? These tiny indignities face us all with growing frequency, and by Arne Carlson’s observation, growing annoyance, intolerance and aggravation. Carlson decided at a very young age that he was not going to allow himself to be consumed by these societal infractions. He would always take the high road, always do the right and decent thing for his fellow man. It was a learned discipline. Taking a few extra moments each day may have made him a minute or two late on occasion, or allowed someone to gain access to a better seat at a the movie theatre. These were small compromises in maintaining integrity, thought Carlson. He relished these random acts of kindness. It was never a burden for him, rather it was a pleasure. He grew to view each opportunity as an obligation to make his fellow man’s experience on this earth just a tiny bit more tolerable, if not pleasant. As he lay on his back, propped up on a pillow, Carlson grimaced and half wondered if his little social experiment had really made a difference for anyone but himself. He drifted off to sleep. ## When he awoke, he was in a wheelchair in a narrow hallway facing two elevator doors about 200 ft. ahead of him. Each door was open and he could tell, even from a distance, each car was quite full. He was able to hear, faintly, his name being called, he was being beckoned to each open elevator door. He began to wheel himself quickly towards the end of the hallway. As his pace quickened he could see the doors simultaneously begin to close. He accelerated his pace, urgently recognizing that he needed to be on one of those cars, he began to wheel as fast as he could given his tired and bent arms. Just as he reached the closing doors, he found the door on the left had swiftly closed completely, shutting him out; the door on the right however had been kept open by the hand of someone unseen inside the elevator. Carlson just snuck in and the door gently closed behind him. “We’re waiting for you.” Several voices said in unison. Carlson looked around and saw that he was in the largest elevator he had ever seen, there had to be literally hundreds of people in there. He knew he was dreaming…he thought he was dreaming..Was he dreaming?? Everyone in the elevator car was beaming, each smiling wide, each looking directly at him. Carlson rubbed his eyes in disbelief for a moment as he looked around. These people were strangers to him, yet they all seemed so familiar in some way. Who were these people? There had to be a mistake! “Mr. Carlson, my name is Marcy.” A young girl of about 10 reached for his hand. “You rode with me on the subway in New York City last year when my brother and I became separated. “You called my daddy when I told you his number and took me to his office in midtown, missing your dental appointment.” Carlson remembered, it was not such a big thing, a few stops and a call on his cell phone. He was impressed the girl had the presence of mind to stay calm and knew her fathers number. Anyone would have done the same thing. “Mr. Carlson?” A brunette of about forty in a stylish suit reached out and touched his shoulder. “You reached up to the top shelf at the grocery and reached a can of soup for me a few years back. I was having such a crummy day and the fact that you simply stopped, and offered a hand made me smile and see there were good, decent people in this world.” Carlson blushed. What a small thing he had offered his assistance thousands of times, why was this worthy of special recognition? “Mr. Carlson, my name is Harris; I work at the Dry Cleaners you frequent.” I mistakenly gave you a ten dollar bill one day instead of a one, and you pointed out my error and gave it back. You may not know it but, your act of kindness saved my job.” And on it went. Person after person, small kindness after small kindness, each shared their remembered small kindness with the man who had extended it. Carlson’ heart began to swell with pride. He had made a difference, small things do bring pleasure into people’s life, the effort, joy really, was worth extending. He was sated.     ## Arne Carlson passed quietly and without pain that September day, his heart full and his soul light. His deeds on earth had earned him an express elevator ride up to the very top floor.   From the corner of his eye Arne Carlson could just see tiny snippets of life unfolding outside of his hospice window. Young children were playing ball at the park adjacent to the property and several moms gathered around strollers with pony tails bobbing were sharing animated conversation. Arne let his mind drift to those simple pleasures he had once enjoyed. His voice, struck silent from the last stroke three weeks ago, was unable to ask the attendant to turn his head further so he could drink in what would surely be his final views of what was an unremarkable, but immanently satisfying life. At 93, Arne had outlived his wife of 57 years and most of his friends. Childless, Arne had planned for his care and final arrangements long before this day had arrived. He was relieved that he was comfortable in his final days and had reflected these past few weeks on the impact that he had made on others throughout his lifetime. Had he made his mark in the world? Had he tried hard enough to make the world a better place? Without children would anyone even remember him? These thoughts churned like a chugging locomotive in his mind as he allowed himself to drift into half sleep, half daydream. He knew what time remained would be measured in days, not weeks, so in spite of the prison his body had become, he made the most of his time challenging his past efforts as he took in the view the window was affording him. He hoped he had made a difference in others lives. The golden rule meant something to Arne Carlson. He prided himself in demonstrating patience, tolerance and respect for friends, family, and strangers alike. He was not a big dreamer, nor did he have outlandish aspirations. A modest life, a wife to shower with affection, good friends, some travel, good books and a comfortable retirement were all Arne ever wanted for and he was rewarded with just such an existence. His legacy, he mused, would be a silent one, experienced a thousand times over throughout the course of his lifetime. Arne Carlson was an unassuming, decent man who found pleasure in extending the smallest courtesies to others. An anachronism in the hurried life of the era in which he lived, Arne always took an extra moment to hold a door, give back the extra change received in error, let a car into traffic, help a child who was momentarily lost in a department store. Life was a series of small transactions thought Arne; why not make them as pleasant as possible? So many daily inconveniences face us all: Who among us hasn’t been cut off in traffic? Been hung up on by dialers of wrong numbers? Provided with erroneous directions? These tiny indignities face us all with growing frequency, and by Arne Carlson’s observation, growing annoyance, intolerance and aggravation. Carlson decided at a very young age that he was not going to allow himself to be consumed by these societal infractions. He would always take the high road, always do the right and decent thing for his fellow man. It was a learned discipline. Taking a few extra moments each day may have made him a minute or two late on occasion, or allowed someone to gain access to a better seat at a the movie theatre. These were small compromises in maintaining integrity, thought Carlson. He relished these random acts of kindness. It was never a burden for him, rather it was a pleasure. He grew to view each opportunity as an obligation to make his fellow man’s experience on this earth just a tiny bit more tolerable, if not pleasant. As he lay on his back, propped up on a pillow, Carlson grimaced and half wondered if his little social experiment had really made a difference for anyone but himself. He drifted off to sleep. ## When he awoke, he was in a wheelchair in a narrow hallway facing two elevator doors about 200 ft. ahead of him. Each door was open and he could tell, even from a distance, each car was quite full. He was able to hear, faintly, his name being called, he was being beckoned to each open elevator door. He began to wheel himself quickly towards the end of the hallway. As his pace quickened he could see the doors simultaneously begin to close. He accelerated his pace, urgently recognizing that he needed to be on one of those cars, he began to wheel as fast as he could given his tired and bent arms. Just as he reached the closing doors, he found the door on the left had swiftly closed completely, shutting him out; the door on the right however had been kept open by the hand of someone unseen inside the elevator. Carlson just snuck in and the door gently closed behind him. “We’re waiting for you.” Several voices said in unison. Carlson looked around and saw that he was in the largest elevator he had ever seen, there had to be literally hundreds of people in there. He knew he was dreaming…he thought he was dreaming..Was he dreaming?? Everyone in the elevator car was beaming, each smiling wide, each looking directly at him. Carlson rubbed his eyes in disbelief for a moment as he looked around. These people were strangers to him, yet they all seemed so familiar in some way. Who were these people? There had to be a mistake! “Mr. Carlson, my name is Marcy.” A young girl of about 10 reached for his hand. “You rode with me on the subway in New York City last year when my brother and I became separated. “You called my daddy when I told you his number and took me to his office in midtown, missing your dental appointment.” Carlson remembered, it was not such a big thing, a few stops and a call on his cell phone. He was impressed the girl had the presence of mind to stay calm and knew her fathers number. Anyone would have done the same thing. “Mr. Carlson?” A brunette of about forty in a stylish suit reached out and touched his shoulder. “You reached up to the top shelf at the grocery and reached a can of soup for me a few years back. I was having such a crummy day and the fact that you simply stopped, and offered a hand made me smile and see there were good, decent people in this world.” Carlson blushed. What a small thing he had offered his assistance thousands of times, why was this worthy of special recognition? “Mr. Carlson, my name is Harris; I work at the Dry Cleaners you frequent.” I mistakenly gave you a ten dollar bill one day instead of a one, and you pointed out my error and gave it back. You may not know it but, your act of kindness saved my job.” And on it went. Person after person, small kindness after small kindness, each shared their remembered small kindness with the man who had extended it. Carlson’ heart began to swell with pride. He had made a difference, small things do bring pleasure into people’s life, the effort, joy really, was worth extending. He was sated.     ## Arne Carlson passed quietly and without pain that September day, his heart full and his soul light. His deeds on earth had earned him an express elevator ride up to the very top floor.   http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/the-sum-of-his-deeds-alan.mp3 Wed, 04 Nov 2009 21:19:19 -0700   (Image by Mohamed Qovaizi)   (Audio by Bill Hemberger)   I zipped up my jacket and stepped off the school bus the same moment Mrs.Abernathy ran out her back door. “Stop, thief!” I followed the direction of her shaking finger and saw a red jacketed figure racing up the grass and tree covered hillside. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Abernathy?” “Oh, Jesse, I came in from getting the mail and found several of my dresser drawers pulled out and my purse emptied on the floor. The back door was open and....” She pointed again. “He’s getting away, and he has my wallet.” “Call the police and I’ll try to see where he goes,” I said. “Oh, and could you please watch my backpack?”  “Yes, of course...but, Jesse do you think you should chase after him? I mean....” “I’ll be careful,” I said. I handed her my pack and started up the hill. The short thunderstorm which had ended ten minutes earlier had left the grass wet, and I slipped several times in my pursuit. Then the hill crested out at the parking lot at Bristol Community Park, and I spotted a man in short sleeves bent over the front of a white car fiddling with the engine.  “Have you seen anyone run out of the woods?” I asked.    The man looked up and examined me with bright blue eyes.  “Only been here a few minutes. Engine was knocking and I barely got off the road in time before it died, but, yeah, I did see a kid. Went in that restroom over there.”  “Thanks.” I hurried across the pavement and saw a tall boy wearing a red windbreaker come out. “Hey, Chad,” I said, recognizing him, “I need to ask you something.” “Huh?” Chad Martin swung toward me. “Oh, it’s you, McKinley.  What do you want?” Before I could reply the door opened again and Robbie Burkett, also wearing a red jacket, appeared. I sighed. “Anyone else in there?” Robbie stared at me. “Oh, hi, Jesse. No. Why?” “Never mind. Did either of you run up the hill from the neighborhood a few minutes ago?” “You kidding?” Chad said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been out biking since the rain stopped.”  He pointed at a shiny blue ten speed parked under a nearby tree. “Sure wasn’t doing crazy things like running up hills.” “I biked over here, too,” Robbie said. He nodded toward his own silver racing bike. “So neither of you know anything about what happened at Mrs. Abernathy’s?” “Mrs. Abernathy’s?” Robbie shook his head. “What are you talking about?” “Someone stole the wallet from her purse. Maybe other stuff, too. She got a look at him. He had on a red jacket and was running up the hill.” “And you’re accusing one of us?” Chad asked. “You’re nuts, McKinley.” “I’m not accusing anyone--” “You sure she wasn’t just seeing things, Jesse?” Robbie Burkett asked.  “I saw the person, too. But he had a good head start on me, and--” I broke off as a police car swung into the parking area and Detective Mendez stepped out. “I don’t believe it,” Chad Martin said. “See that, Burkett?  Your buddy McKinley called the cops.” “Everything okay here?” Detective Mendez asked. “No, everything’s not okay,” Chad said. “This detective wanna-be is harassing me. And Burkett, too.” The policeman raised his eyebrows. “Someone swiped Mrs. Abernathy’s wallet,” I said. “I--” “I know all about it, Jesse,” the policeman said. “A couple other places in the block were also broken into. Mrs. Abernathy told me you’d chased after him this way so I high-tailed it over here. The fellow you were chasing could be dangerous.” I started across the lot, back toward the man working on the broken down car.  “Where are you going?” Detective Mendez asked, following on my heels. “That man’s a witness. Maybe he can give us some more help.” The man looked up as we approached and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “Guess I’ll have to have it towed. Unless--” He looked at Detective Mendez. “Sure would appreciate it if you’d try giving me a jump start, Officer.” “No problem.” Detective Mendez leaned in close, asked softly, “See either of those boys run out of the woods a little bit ago?” The man stared at Chad and Robbie. “Like I told this kid earlier, I saw someone. right after I popped the hood on my car. Could be one of those two over there’s your thief but....” He shrugged. “I was kinda busy...didn’t look that close. Sorry.” “Yeah. I’ll get my car over here to jump start you.” “Okay if I leave now,” Chad Martin asked circling in on his bike. “Give me a minute,” Detective Mendez said. Chad set the kickstand, and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me. Robbie sidled up beside me. “I know you’re only trying to help Mrs. Abernathy, but...guess you can’t solve ‘em all.” “Yeah, guess I can’t.” “Okay!” Detective Mendez called out, his car running and jumper cables attached. “Crank your engine.” The other man nodded, and his car sputtered then roared to life.  “At least one problem is taken care of,” I said as I watched the white car drive away.  Chad hopped back on his bike and popped a wheelie, leaving wet tracks on the dry pavement where the car had sat. “Now can I go,” Chad asked again.              Detective Mendez looked at me. “Anything else, Jesse? Before it starts to rain again?” “Huh?” I blinked, then snapped my fingers. “Of course! I’ve solved the case.” What Was My Solution? "Detective Mendez, you need to stop that man,” I said. “What man?” “The guy in the white car. His plate number’s GHG721. I memorized it just in case.” “But--” “He said Chad or Robbie could be our thief, but I never mentioned anything about a theft to him. Also, the first time I talked to him he said he’d been here only a few minutes, but that had to be a lie.” “How can you know that?” Chad asked. “The pavement where he parked is dry except for your bike tire marks. Meaning he parked here before the rain started. His car kept that area dry, while the rest of the parking lot got wet.”   Detective Mendez was already on his radio calling out an All Points Bulletin. Within the hour the man was found, car stalled out once more. In his trunk was a red jacket and several wallets, including Mrs. Abernathy’s.  “He’s the person I chased up the hill,” I told Robbie and Chad over oatmeal cookies at my house. “When he got back to his car and couldn’t get it started he whipped off his jacket to change his appearance. I did think it sort of odd he was in short sleeves while the rest of us were wearing jackets.” “You know something, McKinley,” Chad Martin said between mouthfuls of cookie, “you’re all right.”  Robbie and I grinned. Coming from Chad that was a compliment indeed.         (Image by Mohamed Qovaizi)   (Audio by Bill Hemberger)   I zipped up my jacket and stepped off the school bus the same moment Mrs.Abernathy ran out her back door. “Stop, thief!” I followed the direction of her shaking finger and saw a red jacketed figure racing up the grass and tree covered hillside. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Abernathy?” “Oh, Jesse, I came in from getting the mail and found several of my dresser drawers pulled out and my purse emptied on the floor. The back door was open and....” She pointed again. “He’s getting away, and he has my wallet.” “Call the police and I’ll try to see where he goes,” I said. “Oh, and could you please watch my backpack?”  “Yes, of course...but, Jesse do you think you should chase after him? I mean....” “I’ll be careful,” I said. I handed her my pack and started up the hill. The short thunderstorm which had ended ten minutes earlier had left the grass wet, and I slipped several times in my pursuit. Then the hill crested out at the parking lot at Bristol Community Park, and I spotted a man in short sleeves bent over the front of a white car fiddling with the engine.  “Have you seen anyone run out of the woods?” I asked.    The man looked up and examined me with bright blue eyes.  “Only been here a few minutes. Engine was knocking and I barely got off the road in time before it died, but, yeah, I did see a kid. Went in that restroom over there.”  “Thanks.” I hurried across the pavement and saw a tall boy wearing a red windbreaker come out. “Hey, Chad,” I said, recognizing him, “I need to ask you something.” “Huh?” Chad Martin swung toward me. “Oh, it’s you, McKinley.  What do you want?” Before I could reply the door opened again and Robbie Burkett, also wearing a red jacket, appeared. I sighed. “Anyone else in there?” Robbie stared at me. “Oh, hi, Jesse. No. Why?” “Never mind. Did either of you run up the hill from the neighborhood a few minutes ago?” “You kidding?” Chad said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been out biking since the rain stopped.”  He pointed at a shiny blue ten speed parked under a nearby tree. “Sure wasn’t doing crazy things like running up hills.” “I biked over here, too,” Robbie said. He nodded toward his own silver racing bike. “So neither of you know anything about what happened at Mrs. Abernathy’s?” “Mrs. Abernathy’s?” Robbie shook his head. “What are you talking about?” “Someone stole the wallet from her purse. Maybe other stuff, too. She got a look at him. He had on a red jacket and was running up the hill.” “And you’re accusing one of us?” Chad asked. “You’re nuts, McKinley.” “I’m not accusing anyone--” “You sure she wasn’t just seeing things, Jesse?” Robbie Burkett asked.  “I saw the person, too. But he had a good head start on me, and--” I broke off as a police car swung into the parking area and Detective Mendez stepped out. “I don’t believe it,” Chad Martin said. “See that, Burkett?  Your buddy McKinley called the cops.” “Everything okay here?” Detective Mendez asked. “No, everything’s not okay,” Chad said. “This detective wanna-be is harassing me. And Burkett, too.” The policeman raised his eyebrows. “Someone swiped Mrs. Abernathy’s wallet,” I said. “I--” “I know all about it, Jesse,” the policeman said. “A couple other places in the block were also broken into. Mrs. Abernathy told me you’d chased after him this way so I high-tailed it over here. The fellow you were chasing could be dangerous.” I started across the lot, back toward the man working on the broken down car.  “Where are you going?” Detective Mendez asked, following on my heels. “That man’s a witness. Maybe he can give us some more help.” The man looked up as we approached and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “Guess I’ll have to have it towed. Unless--” He looked at Detective Mendez. “Sure would appreciate it if you’d try giving me a jump start, Officer.” “No problem.” Detective Mendez leaned in close, asked softly, “See either of those boys run out of the woods a little bit ago?” The man stared at Chad and Robbie. “Like I told this kid earlier, I saw someone. right after I popped the hood on my car. Could be one of those two over there’s your thief but....” He shrugged. “I was kinda busy...didn’t look that close. Sorry.” “Yeah. I’ll get my car over here to jump start you.” “Okay if I leave now,” Chad Martin asked circling in on his bike. “Give me a minute,” Detective Mendez said. Chad set the kickstand, and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me. Robbie sidled up beside me. “I know you’re only trying to help Mrs. Abernathy, but...guess you can’t solve ‘em all.” “Yeah, guess I can’t.” “Okay!” Detective Mendez called out, his car running and jumper cables attached. “Crank your engine.” The other man nodded, and his car sputtered then roared to life.  “At least one problem is taken care of,” I said as I watched the white car drive away.  Chad hopped back on his bike and popped a wheelie, leaving wet tracks on the dry pavement where the car had sat. “Now can I go,” Chad asked again.              Detective Mendez looked at me. “Anything else, Jesse? Before it starts to rain again?” “Huh?” I blinked, then snapped my fingers. “Of course! I’ve solved the case.” What Was My Solution? "Detective Mendez, you need to stop that man,” I said. “What man?” “The guy in the white car. His plate number’s GHG721. I memorized it just in case.” “But--” “He said Chad or Robbie could be our thief, but I never mentioned anything about a theft to him. Also, the first time I talked to him he said he’d been here only a few minutes, but that had to be a lie.” “How can you know that?” Chad asked. “The pavement where he parked is dry except for your bike tire marks. Meaning he parked here before the rain started. His car kept that area dry, while the rest of the parking lot got wet.”   Detective Mendez was already on his radio calling out an All Points Bulletin. Within the hour the man was found, car stalled out once more. In his trunk was a red jacket and several wallets, including Mrs. Abernathy’s.  “He’s the person I chased up the hill,” I told Robbie and Chad over oatmeal cookies at my house. “When he got back to his car and couldn’t get it started he whipped off his jacket to change his appearance. I did think it sort of odd he was in short sleeves while the rest of us were wearing jackets.” “You know something, McKinley,” Chad Martin said between mouthfuls of cookie, “you’re all right.”  Robbie and I grinned. Coming from Chad that was a compliment indeed.       http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/red-jacketed-robber-hemberger.mp3 Sun, 20 Sep 2009 16:07:02 -0600     A long, long time ago when the world was still a very cold place there was a girl who wore a necklace with a window on it. She didn't know where she'd gotten it. She couldn't recall ever being without it. Not even her parents could tell her where it had come from. It had always just been with her. And inside of this window could be seen a great fire. It was so big that it was the only thing that could be seen through the window. And whenever she opened her window the heat from the fire would warm all the people around her. And since the world was such a cold place everybody who saw her longed to be near her. But more so they longed to be near the open window. But she was a kind girl who was happy to share her gift with the people around her.  Every day, all day, people followed her around to be warmed by her burning fire. They walked with her through the snow. They sat with her while they ate. They even piled up around her while she slept. But this only made her happier. She loved seeing the joy on their faces and hearing it in their voices. Every day was wonderful and she never had a reason to frown. Then a terrible thing happened. One beautiful day while she was daydreaming on the beach, people huddled about her, an old woman who had been knitting comfortably in the warmth of the girl's fire had looked up from her knitting and noticed an odd thing in the window. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the girl's chest where the window hung open. At first when the little girl looked in the window she noticed nothing out of the ordinary and was about to turn back to the old woman when she saw exactly what the old woman had seen. Right at the very, very edge of the window, when the flames flickered just right, there was a very tiny area of blackness. The people gathered around to peer into the window, sometimes taking turns, sometimes pushing through the crowd. Soon everybody had had their chance to peer into the window. And after very little debate the people all agreed that there was indeed a black area and that it was the place beyond the fire. The people also agreed that it had not been there before. And finally the people agreed that it was nothing to worry about. So that's exactly what they did. They didn't worry about it. Well, the people didn't worry about it anyway. But the little girl worried about it very much. As the days passed, more and more of the blackness slowly revealed itself beyond the shrinking fire. At first this only concerned the girl. But eventually the heat from the dwindling fire began to wane and the people began to take notice. Occasionally somebody would leave to go in search of a new source of warmth. More days passed and more people left and the fire continued to get smaller. The girl noticed another change as well. At first she thought her clothes were getting bigger and that the window was getting heavier until she realized that she, like her fire, had begun to wane. And the people continued to leave. Then one day the girl looked around and there was only one person left. It was a boy. A boy with a door hanging from a necklace around his neck. "Why are you still here?" She asked him. "I have nothing for you." The boy smiled. "I'm here to stay warm." The girl was about to say, "I'm sorry but I can't keep anybody warm anymore", when she noticed the steam coming off the top of his head. She stared at him confused for a moment then asked, "What's inside your door?" The boy smiled and said, "There's a giant tree with a swing hanging from one of its branches behind my door." "And beyond the tree?" Asked the girl. But the boy shook his head. "I don't know." And that was that. Day after day, the boy followed the girl from place to place. He slept by her, ate by her, and was warmed by her. And whether he had decided to or not he found that he had fallen in love with her. And she found that more than just loving having somebody to warm she loved him too. As time went by her fire continued to wane and so did she, but the boy with the door around his neck stayed by her. Then one day the boy woke to the sound of the girl crying. "Why are you crying?" he asked her, wiping the tears from her face with his sleeve. She pointed to the window which, because she had shrunk so much, now brushed the ground. Looking inside, the boy saw that her fire was now little more than a spark in the darkness. So the boy opened his door and pulled a branch off the tree and put it into the fire and the fire grew bigger, but not much. And the boy grew slightly smaller. But not small enough for them to notice. Every day the boy would break a branch from his tree and put it through the window to feed the fire. And every day the boy grew a little smaller while his gift kept the girl from diminishing any further. And the boy and the girl were happy and warm. And every time a branch was taken from the tree more of the world behind it was revealed. Soon they were able to see a grassy field and mountains in the distance. And just behind the tree to the right was a handsome little house. And just to the left of the tree was a lake which the tree swing, if used, would swing out over. Every new discovery brought them much joy. And every new day brought more exciting discoveries. But sadly every day also brought less and less branches. And the boy shrank and shrank until he was now even smaller than the girl and his door dragged on the ground. Then there was only one branch left. It was the branch that the swing hung from and it was too strong to be taken from the tree. So the girl's fire began to fade again and so did she. And the boy was sad. Then one day while they sat looking into the window together the small flame sputtered, popped, and disappeared completely. Then the girl lay down on the ground and was cold. And the boy was cold. So shivering, the boy slid the necklaces, which were now the size of boa constrictors in comparison to their diminutive size, from their necks and picked the girl up from the ground. He kissed her lovingly on the cheek and, teeth chattering, opened his door and carried her through. And the door swung shut behind them. Nobody truly knew what became of the boy and girl after that except for this: Somewhere in a grassy field next to a lake there is a handsome little house with a tree swing in the front yard. And in this house live an old man and woman who are very happy and very much in love. And if you were to look in their window you'd see a glowing fire in the fireplace. The biggest, friendliest, most welcoming fire you've ever seen. And you might see the man sitting at his table writing the story of their life in that handsome little house by the lake. And you might see the woman knitting by the fire glancing lovingly up at the man who from time to time looks lovingly back at her and smiles. And perhaps if you thought about it hard enough you'd realized that we lived happily ever after.     A long, long time ago when the world was still a very cold place there was a girl who wore a necklace with a window on it. She didn't know where she'd gotten it. She couldn't recall ever being without it. Not even her parents could tell her where it had come from. It had always just been with her. And inside of this window could be seen a great fire. It was so big that it was the only thing that could be seen through the window. And whenever she opened her window the heat from the fire would warm all the people around her. And since the world was such a cold place everybody who saw her longed to be near her. But more so they longed to be near the open window. But she was a kind girl who was happy to share her gift with the people around her.  Every day, all day, people followed her around to be warmed by her burning fire. They walked with her through the snow. They sat with her while they ate. They even piled up around her while she slept. But this only made her happier. She loved seeing the joy on their faces and hearing it in their voices. Every day was wonderful and she never had a reason to frown. Then a terrible thing happened. One beautiful day while she was daydreaming on the beach, people huddled about her, an old woman who had been knitting comfortably in the warmth of the girl's fire had looked up from her knitting and noticed an odd thing in the window. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the girl's chest where the window hung open. At first when the little girl looked in the window she noticed nothing out of the ordinary and was about to turn back to the old woman when she saw exactly what the old woman had seen. Right at the very, very edge of the window, when the flames flickered just right, there was a very tiny area of blackness. The people gathered around to peer into the window, sometimes taking turns, sometimes pushing through the crowd. Soon everybody had had their chance to peer into the window. And after very little debate the people all agreed that there was indeed a black area and that it was the place beyond the fire. The people also agreed that it had not been there before. And finally the people agreed that it was nothing to worry about. So that's exactly what they did. They didn't worry about it. Well, the people didn't worry about it anyway. But the little girl worried about it very much. As the days passed, more and more of the blackness slowly revealed itself beyond the shrinking fire. At first this only concerned the girl. But eventually the heat from the dwindling fire began to wane and the people began to take notice. Occasionally somebody would leave to go in search of a new source of warmth. More days passed and more people left and the fire continued to get smaller. The girl noticed another change as well. At first she thought her clothes were getting bigger and that the window was getting heavier until she realized that she, like her fire, had begun to wane. And the people continued to leave. Then one day the girl looked around and there was only one person left. It was a boy. A boy with a door hanging from a necklace around his neck. "Why are you still here?" She asked him. "I have nothing for you." The boy smiled. "I'm here to stay warm." The girl was about to say, "I'm sorry but I can't keep anybody warm anymore", when she noticed the steam coming off the top of his head. She stared at him confused for a moment then asked, "What's inside your door?" The boy smiled and said, "There's a giant tree with a swing hanging from one of its branches behind my door." "And beyond the tree?" Asked the girl. But the boy shook his head. "I don't know." And that was that. Day after day, the boy followed the girl from place to place. He slept by her, ate by her, and was warmed by her. And whether he had decided to or not he found that he had fallen in love with her. And she found that more than just loving having somebody to warm she loved him too. As time went by her fire continued to wane and so did she, but the boy with the door around his neck stayed by her. Then one day the boy woke to the sound of the girl crying. "Why are you crying?" he asked her, wiping the tears from her face with his sleeve. She pointed to the window which, because she had shrunk so much, now brushed the ground. Looking inside, the boy saw that her fire was now little more than a spark in the darkness. So the boy opened his door and pulled a branch off the tree and put it into the fire and the fire grew bigger, but not much. And the boy grew slightly smaller. But not small enough for them to notice. Every day the boy would break a branch from his tree and put it through the window to feed the fire. And every day the boy grew a little smaller while his gift kept the girl from diminishing any further. And the boy and the girl were happy and warm. And every time a branch was taken from the tree more of the world behind it was revealed. Soon they were able to see a grassy field and mountains in the distance. And just behind the tree to the right was a handsome little house. And just to the left of the tree was a lake which the tree swing, if used, would swing out over. Every new discovery brought them much joy. And every new day brought more exciting discoveries. But sadly every day also brought less and less branches. And the boy shrank and shrank until he was now even smaller than the girl and his door dragged on the ground. Then there was only one branch left. It was the branch that the swing hung from and it was too strong to be taken from the tree. So the girl's fire began to fade again and so did she. And the boy was sad. Then one day while they sat looking into the window together the small flame sputtered, popped, and disappeared completely. Then the girl lay down on the ground and was cold. And the boy was cold. So shivering, the boy slid the necklaces, which were now the size of boa constrictors in comparison to their diminutive size, from their necks and picked the girl up from the ground. He kissed her lovingly on the cheek and, teeth chattering, opened his door and carried her through. And the door swung shut behind them. Nobody truly knew what became of the boy and girl after that except for this: Somewhere in a grassy field next to a lake there is a handsome little house with a tree swing in the front yard. And in this house live an old man and woman who are very happy and very much in love. And if you were to look in their window you'd see a glowing fire in the fireplace. The biggest, friendliest, most welcoming fire you've ever seen. And you might see the man sitting at his table writing the story of their life in that handsome little house by the lake. And you might see the woman knitting by the fire glancing lovingly up at the man who from time to time looks lovingly back at her and smiles. And perhaps if you thought about it hard enough you'd realized that we lived happily ever after. http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/the-window-girl-alan.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 23:33:23 -0600    (Audio by Bill Hemberger)  Several days ago, while braving a forest dark where scant sunlight bleeds through dense branches falling jagged upon those who dare to walk its path, I came upon a secluded spot. Deep in the woods and slightly frightened, I peered with care through spindly limbs and, before my very eyes, the forest opened to brilliant rays of warming sunlight that drenched fragrant blades of grass and Earth’s rich, brown soil. At the center of this unexpected clearing, pure water from a joyful creek ran cool and sparkling, and that’s where I first saw him! He lay stretched flat across a large rock protruding over the bank of the creek, and the sight of him startled me. Under yellow beams of glimmering daylight, he twiddled a hand-made flute and wiggled his feet. I smiled when I heard his ancient Celtic tune lifting on air like delicate butterflies under the summer sun.    I inched slowly into the welcoming light. Instantly, he stopped playing his flute and—without looking up—he said, “I will tell you three secrets for achieving happiness in life. But once I reveal these secrets to you, you must live them in order for them to come alive in your life. For you see, only after you live the secrets of happiness will you come to understand the mystery of eternal life.” I stopped in my tracks, feeling unsure what I should say to this man whose identity remained an intriguing mystery to me.  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Come near, my courageous friend.” So, I walked cautiously to the banks of the creek as he resumed playing the mystical tune on his flute. His melodic chords hypnotized and engaged me! Suddenly, I found myself unable to resist their charm.     “Sit here,” he said as he brought himself upright to pat a spot on the rock next to his own perch. As I sat down, he immediately peered into my eyes. It seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again.   “Here is your first secret for happiness, my dear friend. Never concern yourself with anyone’s shortcomings. Instead, use positive reinforcement and avoid all debate, argument and acts of negativity toward others and—more importantly—avoid discord within yourself. If you follow this rule in all things, you will bring peace to your neighbor and to your core.” “But, sir,” I protested. “You should call me Merlin,” he said gently. “Merlin? As in…” “Yes. What is your question?”   I looked at him in wonder and finally spoke. “How can I feel at peace with people who constantly provoke me; people who start fights, who criticize me, or people who deserve to be put in their place?”   Merlin simply smiled. He played another tune while seeming to ignore my question. His musical notes sounded so beautiful; they closed my eyes, lifted my chin to the sun, and carried my imagination to a faraway place! In that faraway place, I felt great peace and harmony. Merlin’s voice echoed softly within my mind. “Do you see it, my curious friend? Do you feel it? That place where your mind rests now? That sense of peace and wonder is the sensation you must carry with you at all times! When faced with conflict, my child, ignore your desire to explain and defend yourself. Instead, focus your mind on the stars, the sun, the beauty of nature, and the things that please your senses. Each time someone annoys you or unjustly accuses you, quickly shift your focus to this wondrous realm of peace within you. Do not concern yourself with the trivial matters of mortal hearts. Instead, reach that place in your mind where you can fly like I’ve shown you, and choose to soar with eagles.” I said nothing while trying to fully absorb Merlin’s words. “The second secret for happiness comes from finding your passion and helping others find their passion as well. As you discover activities that you enjoy, talents on which you can improve, and passions that create wonder in your life, you will naturally find your happiness. You must multiply that happiness within you, for happiness must flow out from your heart. You must give happiness, not reap happiness. However, your happiness will not flow until you can help those around you in their struggle to uncover their own talents and gifts. You must spend time helping those that are neglected. Help them find the wonder in their life or show them the wonder if they cannot see it for themselves. By freeing others, you will free yourself.” I realized at that moment that I’d spent much of my life in selfishness. As if Merlin could read my mind, he said, “Do not waste your energy on regret. Let that remorse go, but learn from it. This will serve as your key to an energized life and a changed heart and mind.” “The third secret,” he said, “is to believe in miracles. Some call it magic. Some call it answered prayers. The key is to believe. Practice the faith of a child since a child never lets logic and reality block their daily happiness. Dream big! Believe big! Always expect the best in life! Have the faith of a child and you will experience the joy and enthusiasm that is meant for you and for all people.” I glanced away for a second, distracted by a pretty red bird flitting about with a reed in its beak, then looked back to where Merlin once sat. He had vanished! In his place, only his flute remained next to a beautiful crystal that shone in the brilliant light of day. I lifted the crystal and—holding it to my bosom—felt a renewed sense of energy and optimism. Afterward, I tucked the crystal safely inside my pocket and skipped away—playing the flute like a child as I pranced. Oddly, I had never even played a flute before. The world around me seemed very different from that moment on. Everything had changed in the forest. Even as I looked at the sky, nothing felt the same. The fragrant trees and mischievous forest creatures appeared fresh and new to me! My memories seemed very different as well. It was then that I realized that the real change in my world occurred only within my heart.        (Audio by Bill Hemberger)  Several days ago, while braving a forest dark where scant sunlight bleeds through dense branches falling jagged upon those who dare to walk its path, I came upon a secluded spot. Deep in the woods and slightly frightened, I peered with care through spindly limbs and, before my very eyes, the forest opened to brilliant rays of warming sunlight that drenched fragrant blades of grass and Earth’s rich, brown soil. At the center of this unexpected clearing, pure water from a joyful creek ran cool and sparkling, and that’s where I first saw him! He lay stretched flat across a large rock protruding over the bank of the creek, and the sight of him startled me. Under yellow beams of glimmering daylight, he twiddled a hand-made flute and wiggled his feet. I smiled when I heard his ancient Celtic tune lifting on air like delicate butterflies under the summer sun.    I inched slowly into the welcoming light. Instantly, he stopped playing his flute and—without looking up—he said, “I will tell you three secrets for achieving happiness in life. But once I reveal these secrets to you, you must live them in order for them to come alive in your life. For you see, only after you live the secrets of happiness will you come to understand the mystery of eternal life.” I stopped in my tracks, feeling unsure what I should say to this man whose identity remained an intriguing mystery to me.  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Come near, my courageous friend.” So, I walked cautiously to the banks of the creek as he resumed playing the mystical tune on his flute. His melodic chords hypnotized and engaged me! Suddenly, I found myself unable to resist their charm.     “Sit here,” he said as he brought himself upright to pat a spot on the rock next to his own perch. As I sat down, he immediately peered into my eyes. It seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again.   “Here is your first secret for happiness, my dear friend. Never concern yourself with anyone’s shortcomings. Instead, use positive reinforcement and avoid all debate, argument and acts of negativity toward others and—more importantly—avoid discord within yourself. If you follow this rule in all things, you will bring peace to your neighbor and to your core.” “But, sir,” I protested. “You should call me Merlin,” he said gently. “Merlin? As in…” “Yes. What is your question?”   I looked at him in wonder and finally spoke. “How can I feel at peace with people who constantly provoke me; people who start fights, who criticize me, or people who deserve to be put in their place?”   Merlin simply smiled. He played another tune while seeming to ignore my question. His musical notes sounded so beautiful; they closed my eyes, lifted my chin to the sun, and carried my imagination to a faraway place! In that faraway place, I felt great peace and harmony. Merlin’s voice echoed softly within my mind. “Do you see it, my curious friend? Do you feel it? That place where your mind rests now? That sense of peace and wonder is the sensation you must carry with you at all times! When faced with conflict, my child, ignore your desire to explain and defend yourself. Instead, focus your mind on the stars, the sun, the beauty of nature, and the things that please your senses. Each time someone annoys you or unjustly accuses you, quickly shift your focus to this wondrous realm of peace within you. Do not concern yourself with the trivial matters of mortal hearts. Instead, reach that place in your mind where you can fly like I’ve shown you, and choose to soar with eagles.” I said nothing while trying to fully absorb Merlin’s words. “The second secret for happiness comes from finding your passion and helping others find their passion as well. As you discover activities that you enjoy, talents on which you can improve, and passions that create wonder in your life, you will naturally find your happiness. You must multiply that happiness within you, for happiness must flow out from your heart. You must give happiness, not reap happiness. However, your happiness will not flow until you can help those around you in their struggle to uncover their own talents and gifts. You must spend time helping those that are neglected. Help them find the wonder in their life or show them the wonder if they cannot see it for themselves. By freeing others, you will free yourself.” I realized at that moment that I’d spent much of my life in selfishness. As if Merlin could read my mind, he said, “Do not waste your energy on regret. Let that remorse go, but learn from it. This will serve as your key to an energized life and a changed heart and mind.” “The third secret,” he said, “is to believe in miracles. Some call it magic. Some call it answered prayers. The key is to believe. Practice the faith of a child since a child never lets logic and reality block their daily happiness. Dream big! Believe big! Always expect the best in life! Have the faith of a child and you will experience the joy and enthusiasm that is meant for you and for all people.” I glanced away for a second, distracted by a pretty red bird flitting about with a reed in its beak, then looked back to where Merlin once sat. He had vanished! In his place, only his flute remained next to a beautiful crystal that shone in the brilliant light of day. I lifted the crystal and—holding it to my bosom—felt a renewed sense of energy and optimism. Afterward, I tucked the crystal safely inside my pocket and skipped away—playing the flute like a child as I pranced. Oddly, I had never even played a flute before. The world around me seemed very different from that moment on. Everything had changed in the forest. Even as I looked at the sky, nothing felt the same. The fragrant trees and mischievous forest creatures appeared fresh and new to me! My memories seemed very different as well. It was then that I realized that the real change in my world occurred only within my heart.     http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/three-secrets-to-happiness-hemberger.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 23:31:49 -0600   Alex sat behind his desk eating a sandwich. Everybody called him PB&J because of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he ate. They were his favorite, he carried a bag filled with them wherever he went. Today was opening day of the PB&J Detective Agency. His dad had turned his clubhouse into an office and PB&J had saved up to buy a detective’s kit. It had everything a first-rate investigator needed. Except a case. Suzie walked in crying. “Someone stole my yo-yo. I went inside and left it on the porch. When I came out, it was gone.” Opening the bag she carried, she took out a sandwich. “Hope you like apricot.” “I’ve never met a jelly I didn’t like. PB&J Detective Agency’s on the case. I’ll find your yo-yo.” They walked to Suzie’s. PB&J used his flashlight to check the flowerbeds around the porch for clues. He found small paw prints. He took out his notebook and pen, made a note, and walked up the porch steps. “Where did you leave the yo-yo?”  “Here on the bench. Mom called me for lunch. I was in a hurry and didn’t wind it up. I set it on the cushion with the string dangling, so it wouldn’t tangle.” PB&J used his magnifying glass to look around where the yo-yo was last seen. He examined the cushions for clues and found some white fuzz. He put it into an evidence bag. Suzie continued. “After lunch, it was gone. I thought maybe it rolled away. But I couldn’t find it.” PB&J was stumped. He sat on the stairs and ate one of his sandwiches -- he always thought best while chewing.  Mrs. Elmer came by, walking her poodle. “Hi again, Missus Elmer,” Suzie said. “No Precious to chase this time, Dolly.” PB&J heard a rustling in the bushes and Dolly started barking. A white cat darted out. Precious meowed at Dolly and then dashed across the street. She slipped through her cat door. “Missus Elmer,” PB&J called, “Suzie’s yo-yo has disappeared. You could be a witness. Can we ask you some questions?” “Of course.”  “Did you see anything when you walked by before?”  “No, just Precious trying to get Dolly to chase her, like always. I’m sorry, wish I could be more helpful.” PB&J smiled. “Actually, you were. Suzie, I know what happened to your yo-yo.” “You do?” They asked. “Yeah.” PB&J crawled into the bushes. He wriggled out holding Suzie’s yo-yo. Suzie hugged him. “How did you know?” PB&J grinned. “I put the clues together. I realized the fuzz on the cushions was cat hair. You’d left the yo-yo with the string hanging -- cats can’t resist a dangling string. Precious dragged the yo-yo into the bushes to play with it.” “You’re the best detective ever!” Suzie said. “Great work,” Mrs. Elmer said. “You’ve solved your first case. How about a sandwich to celebrate?”  PB&J smiled. “Thanks, nothing says case solved like PB&J.”   Alex sat behind his desk eating a sandwich. Everybody called him PB&J because of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he ate. They were his favorite, he carried a bag filled with them wherever he went. Today was opening day of the PB&J Detective Agency. His dad had turned his clubhouse into an office and PB&J had saved up to buy a detective’s kit. It had everything a first-rate investigator needed. Except a case. Suzie walked in crying. “Someone stole my yo-yo. I went inside and left it on the porch. When I came out, it was gone.” Opening the bag she carried, she took out a sandwich. “Hope you like apricot.” “I’ve never met a jelly I didn’t like. PB&J Detective Agency’s on the case. I’ll find your yo-yo.” They walked to Suzie’s. PB&J used his flashlight to check the flowerbeds around the porch for clues. He found small paw prints. He took out his notebook and pen, made a note, and walked up the porch steps. “Where did you leave the yo-yo?”  “Here on the bench. Mom called me for lunch. I was in a hurry and didn’t wind it up. I set it on the cushion with the string dangling, so it wouldn’t tangle.” PB&J used his magnifying glass to look around where the yo-yo was last seen. He examined the cushions for clues and found some white fuzz. He put it into an evidence bag. Suzie continued. “After lunch, it was gone. I thought maybe it rolled away. But I couldn’t find it.” PB&J was stumped. He sat on the stairs and ate one of his sandwiches -- he always thought best while chewing.  Mrs. Elmer came by, walking her poodle. “Hi again, Missus Elmer,” Suzie said. “No Precious to chase this time, Dolly.” PB&J heard a rustling in the bushes and Dolly started barking. A white cat darted out. Precious meowed at Dolly and then dashed across the street. She slipped through her cat door. “Missus Elmer,” PB&J called, “Suzie’s yo-yo has disappeared. You could be a witness. Can we ask you some questions?” “Of course.”  “Did you see anything when you walked by before?”  “No, just Precious trying to get Dolly to chase her, like always. I’m sorry, wish I could be more helpful.” PB&J smiled. “Actually, you were. Suzie, I know what happened to your yo-yo.” “You do?” They asked. “Yeah.” PB&J crawled into the bushes. He wriggled out holding Suzie’s yo-yo. Suzie hugged him. “How did you know?” PB&J grinned. “I put the clues together. I realized the fuzz on the cushions was cat hair. You’d left the yo-yo with the string hanging -- cats can’t resist a dangling string. Precious dragged the yo-yo into the bushes to play with it.” “You’re the best detective ever!” Suzie said. “Great work,” Mrs. Elmer said. “You’ve solved your first case. How about a sandwich to celebrate?”  PB&J smiled. “Thanks, nothing says case solved like PB&J.” http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/pbj-alan.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 23:17:34 -0600 Jack is dead. That was the only sentence rambling through my head on a consistent basis every day. I could not move, my mind was paralyzed by my sadness. The television and bed became my center of life. Friends began to fade into the distance; the ringing telephone became an old alarm clock. Getting a job in the real world and making it to the top of the ladder became a star out of my reach.  I hated Jack. He was the kid next door who threw mud pies at my dolls and drenched me with his water hose when I was wearing my Sunday dress. “One day you’ll fall in love with little Jackson,” my mother would playfully say. I thought “little Jackson” was the devil. I once saw Jack cry when he fell off the trampoline and broke his arm. I watched through the fence and laughed. I thought Jack never cried. I never told him I watched him whimper or that it made me smile to know he was in pain. I would laugh gleefully when Jack was too sick to go to school. Jack was the brother I hated, the brother I wanted to push off the trampoline, the brother I never had. I stared at myself in the mirror? Was this me? The blonde curls replaced by a constant ponytail, my frail bones. This was the me running from life. I had job offers stacking up in my voicemail box. My dad called daily pushing me inquiring about my job pursuit. I lied. I told him I had interviews lining my calendar for the upcoming week. I did not want my dad to worry about me. I lied to the world to make them think my life was the chiseled ice sculpture of the goddess of perfection . The ice sculpture was melting; and I felt helpless in my acts to preserve it. Jack stood against his fence in the middle of the night. We often met to talk about school things out there. We would talk for hours, gossiping about life. “So, how was the big date?” He smiled.  “You’re pushing it, Jack. Why does it matter?“  I lifted myself over his fence to stand beside him. The cold wind pushed against my face. “Not like Susie Sunshine? Whatever happened to you?“  Jack had been dating Taylor for more than a year. It was one of those high school romances where he exchanged daily letters with her, walked her to class, went to her volleyball games waiting afterwards with a rose. I didn’t want to tell him that Eric and I didn’t work out. I was afraid of commitment. I didn’t want to tell him that Eric and I stared at each other with nothing to talk about over our Valentine dinner.  “Tell me about your date and I’ll tell you about mine. If not, forget it.“ He said taunting me. “Jack, shut up.”  He lowered his eyes.  “Do you ever wonder if what you’re loving is right under your nose?“  He said quietly. I stared at him. I wondered why he was acting strange.  “Well, sure. I can’t seem to make any relationship work.“  “I broke up with Taylor tonight.“  It caught me off guard. I fell against the fence. “You can’t just dump someone after a year. It doesn’t happen in one night.“ “It didn’t,“ He said again too quietly. “I think… I think… that I’m in love with you.” I started to laugh.  “Jack, you did not break up with her because you think you’re in love with me.” He looked down at the ground and back up again. I suddenly realized it was Jack the entire time. The reason relationships would not work was because of Jack. He was this force that I could not fight.  “Jack, I’m going to have to think about what you just said. I mean, it just can’t make sense – “ He suddenly kissed me awkwardly. I felt electric shocks rivet through my body. Then and there I fell in love with Jack.  It made no sense that God would take him away from me. It had to be a mistake. I hadn’t done anything with my life in six months. I felt like I was drowning. The waves flew over my head and I just sat under them breathing in the water. I didn’t care what happened. Without Jack I was trying to fly with one wing.  He asked me to marry him at Christmas dinner with all of my family. I started to giggle as he extended the ring towards me. Nothing stood in our way. We were practically family so it seemed like nothing new. We would often talk about our house with the white picket fence. We wanted two kids and a Saint Bernard. The future was a canvas of perfection.  I opened the door that Sunday morning to see my older sister standing there. Her disheveled red hair fell loosely over her face. Ginger had driven six hours home after my college graduation that weekend. I could not figure out why she would be standing at my door two days later.  “Come in, come in. My gosh, are you okay?” She didn’t speak a word, but walked past me into the apartment.  “Neely, something bad happened last night. I drove all night to come tell you. I don’t know why they picked me, but here I am.”  It was weird to hear her talk like that. Ginger and I had always been close. She lived in my hometown with her husband and my little nephew. “What’re you talking about? Are Mom and Dad okay?” I remember wanting to call Jack to make him help me understand whatever news she was about to spring. It’s funny how those seconds before they actually tell you the news, millions of things run through your mind, a lifetime of thoughts in a few seconds.  “Jack was in a car accident last night, Neely. He fell asleep driving around 3 AM. He was coming in from a boy’s night out.”  “Yeah, I know he was going out with the guys. Well, you know Carla would’ve called me if it was something bad.” I tried to make the conversation change directions. Somehow I knew. My heart sank right after she said Jack’s name. I didn’t ask her if he was hurt. She never said a word. She only looked at me. I knew by her look. “Ginger, come on, you’re wrong. No, no, Carla would’ve called me before you. She would tell me. Not you.”  She reached for me, but I pulled away.  “Neely, she wanted me to tell you. She’s just distraught today.” There was nothing she could say or do at that moment. I couldn’t absorb it, so I just tried to erase it. We stood there in silence for what seemed like a lifetime.  “Maybe you should just come out to eat with us tonight. You haven’t been out in forever, Neely. Just come eat, hang out, it’ll be fun.” I shifted the phone as I listened to my best friend, Sarah, try to convince me civilization was a good place for me to live again. I was quiet for a few seconds.  “Nah, I have some portfolios to work on.”  She groaned. “You’re not going to work on your portfolios, Neely. What do you want to do?”  I didn’t say anything again letting silence fill our airwaves. “Nothing. I don’t want to do anything. I just don’t feel like I’m going to face another day.”  “Well, then what are you going to do?” She asked angrily. The question caught me off guard. She didn’t give me pity or try to help me through the moment. She was being truthful. What was I going to do? Was I going to wither away in my apartment for the rest of my life? Was I going to start my life over? I had no idea what I was going to do. Days went by as Sarah’s question vibrated through my head. I began to realize life wasn’t stopping for me. I could stop my life, but the world kept spinning. One day I turned on the radio to a familiar country tune. It made me smile to hear music again. I slowly walked into my bathroom scouting the cabinets for my curling iron and make-up bag. I twirled my ring around my finger. I wasn’t ready to take it off. I decided it was time to breathe again. I was tired of drowning. Could I move my pawn down the road of life without feeling guilty? I picked up a framed picture of Jack and me at a college formal. We both looked so happy like we belonged together forever. I kissed the picture and laughed. It was time to spread my wings without Jack. Jack is dead. That was the only sentence rambling through my head on a consistent basis every day. I could not move, my mind was paralyzed by my sadness. The television and bed became my center of life. Friends began to fade into the distance; the ringing telephone became an old alarm clock. Getting a job in the real world and making it to the top of the ladder became a star out of my reach.  I hated Jack. He was the kid next door who threw mud pies at my dolls and drenched me with his water hose when I was wearing my Sunday dress. “One day you’ll fall in love with little Jackson,” my mother would playfully say. I thought “little Jackson” was the devil. I once saw Jack cry when he fell off the trampoline and broke his arm. I watched through the fence and laughed. I thought Jack never cried. I never told him I watched him whimper or that it made me smile to know he was in pain. I would laugh gleefully when Jack was too sick to go to school. Jack was the brother I hated, the brother I wanted to push off the trampoline, the brother I never had. I stared at myself in the mirror? Was this me? The blonde curls replaced by a constant ponytail, my frail bones. This was the me running from life. I had job offers stacking up in my voicemail box. My dad called daily pushing me inquiring about my job pursuit. I lied. I told him I had interviews lining my calendar for the upcoming week. I did not want my dad to worry about me. I lied to the world to make them think my life was the chiseled ice sculpture of the goddess of perfection . The ice sculpture was melting; and I felt helpless in my acts to preserve it. Jack stood against his fence in the middle of the night. We often met to talk about school things out there. We would talk for hours, gossiping about life. “So, how was the big date?” He smiled.  “You’re pushing it, Jack. Why does it matter?“  I lifted myself over his fence to stand beside him. The cold wind pushed against my face. “Not like Susie Sunshine? Whatever happened to you?“  Jack had been dating Taylor for more than a year. It was one of those high school romances where he exchanged daily letters with her, walked her to class, went to her volleyball games waiting afterwards with a rose. I didn’t want to tell him that Eric and I didn’t work out. I was afraid of commitment. I didn’t want to tell him that Eric and I stared at each other with nothing to talk about over our Valentine dinner.  “Tell me about your date and I’ll tell you about mine. If not, forget it.“ He said taunting me. “Jack, shut up.”  He lowered his eyes.  “Do you ever wonder if what you’re loving is right under your nose?“  He said quietly. I stared at him. I wondered why he was acting strange.  “Well, sure. I can’t seem to make any relationship work.“  “I broke up with Taylor tonight.“  It caught me off guard. I fell against the fence. “You can’t just dump someone after a year. It doesn’t happen in one night.“ “It didn’t,“ He said again too quietly. “I think… I think… that I’m in love with you.” I started to laugh.  “Jack, you did not break up with her because you think you’re in love with me.” He looked down at the ground and back up again. I suddenly realized it was Jack the entire time. The reason relationships would not work was because of Jack. He was this force that I could not fight.  “Jack, I’m going to have to think about what you just said. I mean, it just can’t make sense – “ He suddenly kissed me awkwardly. I felt electric shocks rivet through my body. Then and there I fell in love with Jack.  It made no sense that God would take him away from me. It had to be a mistake. I hadn’t done anything with my life in six months. I felt like I was drowning. The waves flew over my head and I just sat under them breathing in the water. I didn’t care what happened. Without Jack I was trying to fly with one wing.  He asked me to marry him at Christmas dinner with all of my family. I started to giggle as he extended the ring towards me. Nothing stood in our way. We were practically family so it seemed like nothing new. We would often talk about our house with the white picket fence. We wanted two kids and a Saint Bernard. The future was a canvas of perfection.  I opened the door that Sunday morning to see my older sister standing there. Her disheveled red hair fell loosely over her face. Ginger had driven six hours home after my college graduation that weekend. I could not figure out why she would be standing at my door two days later.  “Come in, come in. My gosh, are you okay?” She didn’t speak a word, but walked past me into the apartment.  “Neely, something bad happened last night. I drove all night to come tell you. I don’t know why they picked me, but here I am.”  It was weird to hear her talk like that. Ginger and I had always been close. She lived in my hometown with her husband and my little nephew. “What’re you talking about? Are Mom and Dad okay?” I remember wanting to call Jack to make him help me understand whatever news she was about to spring. It’s funny how those seconds before they actually tell you the news, millions of things run through your mind, a lifetime of thoughts in a few seconds.  “Jack was in a car accident last night, Neely. He fell asleep driving around 3 AM. He was coming in from a boy’s night out.”  “Yeah, I know he was going out with the guys. Well, you know Carla would’ve called me if it was something bad.” I tried to make the conversation change directions. Somehow I knew. My heart sank right after she said Jack’s name. I didn’t ask her if he was hurt. She never said a word. She only looked at me. I knew by her look. “Ginger, come on, you’re wrong. No, no, Carla would’ve called me before you. She would tell me. Not you.”  She reached for me, but I pulled away.  “Neely, she wanted me to tell you. She’s just distraught today.” There was nothing she could say or do at that moment. I couldn’t absorb it, so I just tried to erase it. We stood there in silence for what seemed like a lifetime.  “Maybe you should just come out to eat with us tonight. You haven’t been out in forever, Neely. Just come eat, hang out, it’ll be fun.” I shifted the phone as I listened to my best friend, Sarah, try to convince me civilization was a good place for me to live again. I was quiet for a few seconds.  “Nah, I have some portfolios to work on.”  She groaned. “You’re not going to work on your portfolios, Neely. What do you want to do?”  I didn’t say anything again letting silence fill our airwaves. “Nothing. I don’t want to do anything. I just don’t feel like I’m going to face another day.”  “Well, then what are you going to do?” She asked angrily. The question caught me off guard. She didn’t give me pity or try to help me through the moment. She was being truthful. What was I going to do? Was I going to wither away in my apartment for the rest of my life? Was I going to start my life over? I had no idea what I was going to do. Days went by as Sarah’s question vibrated through my head. I began to realize life wasn’t stopping for me. I could stop my life, but the world kept spinning. One day I turned on the radio to a familiar country tune. It made me smile to hear music again. I slowly walked into my bathroom scouting the cabinets for my curling iron and make-up bag. I twirled my ring around my finger. I wasn’t ready to take it off. I decided it was time to breathe again. I was tired of drowning. Could I move my pawn down the road of life without feeling guilty? I picked up a framed picture of Jack and me at a college formal. We both looked so happy like we belonged together forever. I kissed the picture and laughed. It was time to spread my wings without Jack. http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/one-wing-moore.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 22:07:58 -0600   ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, I was too busy, and so was my spouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, The evidence of our debt and shopping were everywhere. The children were huddled in their beds, While visions of gadgets danced in their heads. Momma took an aspirin because of her headache,  She had too much to do, no time for a mistake. When out on the lawn there was a horrible noise, Was it my weird neighbor Ned, and his caroling boys? I sprang out of my den full of fury, I had so much to do; I was in a hurry. Away to the door, to tell Ned he’s wrong, I didn’t have time to listen to a dumb song. When what to my indignant eyes did arise  But a group of people in biblical guise. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, a Nativity living, With a message of salvation - a story of giving. I uttered a “Happy Holidays”, and gave a wave; A man introduced himself; his name was Dave. Merry Christmas he said, and asked if knew the story, Of Christmas’ origin and God’s Glory.  I looked at my watch; I had things to do. I tried to excuse myself, but his words rang true.  I had presents to wrap, and a party to plan. I needed to go, but I wanted to hear this man. I new what he was talking about, I heard it when I was a kid, And you’ll never believe the next thing I did. I invited them all in, even the ox and the goat, I offered them cocoa with a lump in my throat. Something was pulling at my soul and moving my heart, Without hearing his story, my Christmas couldn’t start.  I called in my wife, and she gave me “the look”, She told me all the things she was trying to cook. I sat her down; she needed a brake, My family’s salvation was at stake. I rushed upstairs for my son and daughter, They needed to drink of this Living Water. Dave began his tale of Jesus' miraculous birth, How he came to us because of our worth. That he was God’s one and only Son, And he loved us, each and every one. As the tale unfolded I looked at the ground, At the stuff and the things all scattered around. We considered these gifts important and new, We thought they were needed, but that wasn’t true.  I looked at my wife with a tear in my eye. How did I let my family believe in this lie, That Christmas was about presents and need. I taught not about love, but of craving and greed. I pulled my kids close, and held them tight, I had to act fast, to make things right. I kneeled and prayed and accepted God’s Grace, With my family beside me, and tears on my face.  Dave smiled and hugged us, and then walked out. I thanked him for showing me what Christmas is about. Merry Christmas we said, and they left right away. Thank you for saving our Christmas Day.   ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, I was too busy, and so was my spouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, The evidence of our debt and shopping were everywhere. The children were huddled in their beds, While visions of gadgets danced in their heads. Momma took an aspirin because of her headache,  She had too much to do, no time for a mistake. When out on the lawn there was a horrible noise, Was it my weird neighbor Ned, and his caroling boys? I sprang out of my den full of fury, I had so much to do; I was in a hurry. Away to the door, to tell Ned he’s wrong, I didn’t have time to listen to a dumb song. When what to my indignant eyes did arise  But a group of people in biblical guise. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, a Nativity living, With a message of salvation - a story of giving. I uttered a “Happy Holidays”, and gave a wave; A man introduced himself; his name was Dave. Merry Christmas he said, and asked if knew the story, Of Christmas’ origin and God’s Glory.  I looked at my watch; I had things to do. I tried to excuse myself, but his words rang true.  I had presents to wrap, and a party to plan. I needed to go, but I wanted to hear this man. I new what he was talking about, I heard it when I was a kid, And you’ll never believe the next thing I did. I invited them all in, even the ox and the goat, I offered them cocoa with a lump in my throat. Something was pulling at my soul and moving my heart, Without hearing his story, my Christmas couldn’t start.  I called in my wife, and she gave me “the look”, She told me all the things she was trying to cook. I sat her down; she needed a brake, My family’s salvation was at stake. I rushed upstairs for my son and daughter, They needed to drink of this Living Water. Dave began his tale of Jesus' miraculous birth, How he came to us because of our worth. That he was God’s one and only Son, And he loved us, each and every one. As the tale unfolded I looked at the ground, At the stuff and the things all scattered around. We considered these gifts important and new, We thought they were needed, but that wasn’t true.  I looked at my wife with a tear in my eye. How did I let my family believe in this lie, That Christmas was about presents and need. I taught not about love, but of craving and greed. I pulled my kids close, and held them tight, I had to act fast, to make things right. I kneeled and prayed and accepted God’s Grace, With my family beside me, and tears on my face.  Dave smiled and hugged us, and then walked out. I thanked him for showing me what Christmas is about. Merry Christmas we said, and they left right away. Thank you for saving our Christmas Day. http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/Twas-the-night-before-christmas.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 21:57:46 -0600   Longing to know the secrets of life, While struggling in a world of strife, Has caused me grief on many a day That won’t allow my thoughts to stray.   Why do blossoms appear in spring? How does a mocking bird learn to sing? Why must the young go off to war? While patriots laud their cause once more.   Spring, summer, winter, and fall, I’ve had a chance to see them all. The azure blue of the summer sky, And snow white blankets have caught my eye.   Still of all earth’s wonders to see, The ultimate question remains for me. How can two tiny cells unite and grow, Into a perfect being from head to toe?       Longing to know the secrets of life, While struggling in a world of strife, Has caused me grief on many a day That won’t allow my thoughts to stray.   Why do blossoms appear in spring? How does a mocking bird learn to sing? Why must the young go off to war? While patriots laud their cause once more.   Spring, summer, winter, and fall, I’ve had a chance to see them all. The azure blue of the summer sky, And snow white blankets have caught my eye.   Still of all earth’s wonders to see, The ultimate question remains for me. How can two tiny cells unite and grow, Into a perfect being from head to toe?     http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/the-secrets-of-life.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 21:56:22 -0600   I sat at the foot of a mountain, poised and ready to climb. Though my body felt sturdy and able, my son’s was more eager than mine. I started up at a slow, steady pace and told him to stay close behind. He followed suit and no problem we had, all the way up to timberline.   ‘Twas there he seemed to question my path, testing me and my way it appeared. He wandered straight down, then straight up, even fell once or twice, and I feared. “I know the way,” I would tell him each time, as we gathered at night on the way. “That may be true,” and said “it’s no crime,” so I’ll examine more trails every day.   Sometimes from ridge tops I see him, struggling and working so hard. Oh how I wish I could get him to follow the standard dance card. Holding fast to the trail that I know, I trudge with my eye on the peak, Stopping at times to gather him in, and hoping we’ll reach the goal that we seek.   I sat at the foot of a mountain, poised and ready to climb. Though my body felt sturdy and able, my son’s was more eager than mine. I started up at a slow, steady pace and told him to stay close behind. He followed suit and no problem we had, all the way up to timberline.   ‘Twas there he seemed to question my path, testing me and my way it appeared. He wandered straight down, then straight up, even fell once or twice, and I feared. “I know the way,” I would tell him each time, as we gathered at night on the way. “That may be true,” and said “it’s no crime,” so I’ll examine more trails every day.   Sometimes from ridge tops I see him, struggling and working so hard. Oh how I wish I could get him to follow the standard dance card. Holding fast to the trail that I know, I trudge with my eye on the peak, Stopping at times to gather him in, and hoping we’ll reach the goal that we seek. http://storiesthatlift.com/media/audio/the-quest.mp3 Sat, 13 Jun 2009 21:54:45 -0600