Has anyone told you lately that you are truly amazing? Probably not unless you are one of the very blessed few who have at least one powerful encourager in your life that truly does care about you. I was 6 feet tall when I was in the 7th grade. I weighed all of 140 lbs. Skinny doesn’t begin to describe it. Toothpick would come a little closer. With the unruly and wiry hair that I tried to grow long and fight to keep straight, most of my friends called me ‘Q-tip.’ You can imagine how that did wonders for my self-esteem. Yeah, not much. I was reminded by my father that I wasn’t planned when I was born. I guess not. Three kids in LESS THAN three years. My brother was two years old, about to turn three. My sister was one year old, nine days before she turned two. My father suffered most of his life with what we now know as bipolar disorder. Major moods swings and a plethora of attitudes that did not serve in my best interest (or anyone else’s for that matter.) He constantly reminded me that I was an “accident” and with the constant psychological abuse that he put on me, I felt more like an intruder on this planet than a little boy.
Are You a Bucket-Filler or a Dipper? You have heard of the cup that overflowed. This is a story of a bucket that is like the cup, only larger, it is an invisible bucket. Everyone has one. It determines how we feel about ourselves, about others, and how we get along with people. Have you ever experienced a series of very favorable things which made you want to be good to people for a week? At that time, your bucket was full. A bucket can be filled by a lot of things that happen. When a person speaks to you, recognizing you as a human being, your bucket is filled a little. Even more, if he calls you by name, especially if it is the name you like to be called. If he compliments you on your dress or on a job well done, the level in your bucket goes up still higher. There must be a million ways to raise the level in another’s bucket. Writing a friendly letter, remembering something that is special to him, knowing the names of his children, expressing sympathy for his loss, giving him a hand when his work is heavy, taking time for conversation, or, perhaps more important, listening to him. When one’s bucket is full of this emotional support, one can express
The Room Filled I ran home from school, stomped up the worn wooden steps, slammed open the front door and yelled, “Mum! Mum, I’m home!” “Michael, I’m right here!” Mum appeared around the corner. “Stop yelling. What if your father had been sleeping? You know he works nights.” “Sorry, Mum,” I mumbled and hung my head in shame. “I didn’t mean to yell.” “If you had woken him, you know how mad he would have been.” “I just wanted to show you my spelling test.” I handed her my test. “I got a gold star.” “You got another one?” She smiled. “Good for you! You always study so hard, but you have to remember not to yell when you come in the house.” “I know, Mum, but I was excited and wanted to show you.” I lied. Dad drank a lot. If he had too much, he’d argue with Mum. I was afraid she’d leave. My two older brothers and I would be alone with him. What if I came home and she was gone? It was a fear I lived with most of my childhood. I needed to know she was there. Years later, I moved away for my first job. Each evening, I’d open the door to a lonely, empty room. I didn’t call out for Mum. I
God Lives in the Post Office Our 14-year-old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died, my 4-year-old daughter, Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words: Dear God, Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick. I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her. Love, Meredith ________ We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letterbox at the post office. A few days
Long ago in a small, far away village, there was a place known as the House of 1000 Mirrors. A small, happy little dog learned of this place and decided to visit. When he arrived, he bounced happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. He looked through the doorway with his ears lifted high and his tail wagging as fast as it could. To his great surprise, he found himself staring at 1000 other happy little dogs with their tails wagging just as fast as his. He smiled a great smile and was answered with 1000 great smiles just as warm and friendly. As he left the house, he thought to himself, “This is a wonderful place. I will come back and visit it often.” In this same village, another little dog, who was not quite as happy as the first one, decided to visit the house. He slowly climbed the stairs and hung his head low as he looked into the door. When he saw the 1000 unfriendly looking dogs staring back at him, he growled at them and was horrified to see 1000 little dogs growling back at him. As he left, he thought to himself, “That is a horrible place, and I will never go back there again.” All the faces in the world
Six Words That Changed a Life Six words – “Smile…it can’t be that bad.” – changed Judy’s life. Judy is a young woman I worked with some years ago. She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, more than a little overweight, and not the most stylish dresser. What was most striking about her appearance was her smile; it was always there. Anyone passing Judy in the hallway was greeted with that smile and a soft, “Hello,” or, “Good morning,” in her gentle, Minnesota accent. I happened to be with Judy one day when she had her driver’s license out of her purse. The photograph on her license showed a face that looked like it had never smiled! The corners of her mouth were turned down, her face looked slack, and the eyes were dark and troubled. The overall impression was anger and deep grief. “Whoa! Judy…is that really you? What in the world was going on? You look like you’re mad at the world!” Judy giggled. “Yes, it’s me. I used to look like that all the time.” She then shared with me her story and the six words that changed her life. Judy had moved to Tennessee to care for an invalid uncle. Her life revolved around caring for this much older and very ill man who,
