share some inspiration

[Happy]

Seen families together last night.

[supernana]

The Cost of Hope
A woman in financial despair discovers the joy of giving to someone else in need.
Danielle sat down with a sigh, discouraged and exhausted. The day had proven frustrating. With only forty dollars left in her wallet, she desperately needed to find a bank to cash her paycheck. She was living in a new city with no local bank of her own - and the banks were not eager to help her. For more than two weeks, she made attempt after attempt - to no avail. With her cash supply dwindling fast, she had no other resources. How could she continue to support herself and her two children? She wondered just how much longer she and her children could get by on the little money they had left.
Taking a break from her struggles, Danielle decided to attend a meeting at the local women's resource center. The women there had been a strong source of encouragement since she fled her home in fear for her safety. Her thoughts were far away as she settled into a chair in the meeting room. In deep despair, she longed for renewed hope that she could make it as a single mom.
Live life more consciously by reaching out
"Good afternoon, everyone," a voice said, breaking Danielle's thoughts. It was the leader of her women's group. "Does anyone want to start?"
Sitting next to Danielle, Amy cleared her throat. "I would," she said. Amy began to share the details of her desperate situation. She had run into severe personal struggles and was just days away from losing her home and her car. Her phone and electric services were both scheduled for disconnection. Her husband had gambled away their money. What little she had tried to squirrel away, he had used to support his drug habit. Their relationship had deteriorated to the point where she feared for her very safety. The last of the money she managed to tuck away allowed her to buy food for her children and diapers for her baby. She had nothing left. Nothing.

[supernana]

continued from above post:

As Amy described the extent of the situation, Danielle heard God's soft whisper in her heart: "After the meeting, give Amy twenty dollars." Danielle immediately thought, But I can't. I only have forty dollars. She heard the order again. It was unmistakably clear. Danielle knew she needed to comply. When the meeting concluded, she reached into her purse and quietly slipped twenty dollars to Amy. Knowing Danielle's situation, Amy was reluctant to accept it at first. But as a crowd of women came to give Amy hugs of support, Danielle told her that God wanted her to have it. Then Danielle left.
As Danielle unlocked the door to her car, she heard someone call her name. She turned to find Amy walking toward her. Tears filled Amy's eyes as she began to speak. "How could you have known?" she asked. A large tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto her shoulder as she reached into her purse. She pulled out a small amber prescription bottle. "I took the last one yesterday." She pointed to the bottom of the label. "I'm a medication-dependent diabetic. I need this medication every day. I had no idea what I was going to do." Another tear rolled down her cheek as she pointed to the refill cost printed clearly on the label:$20.00.
It was at that moment that Danielle was renewed with a sense of hope and peace. She told Amy that she did not know, but God did. While Amy's situation seemed to be a mountain before her, God alone could help her navigate every step and meet every need to move beyond that mountain, one step at a time. The words of hope that Danielle spoke to Amy that day were the very words of hope she herself needed.
Now with just twenty dollars left in her wallet, Danielle decided to try cashing her paycheck at just one more bank before heading home. While she anticipated the rejection she had received at so many other banks, she was somehow filled with renewed confidence and optimism. With hope in hand, she walked into the bank adjacent to the women's center. Moments later, the bank cashed her paycheck with no questions asked.
Beaming, Danielle returned home. While she knew there would be days ahead that would certainly hold challenges, her newfound hope inspired her. She never did see Amy again, but she continues to rest confidently that God is still looking out for her and is meeting her daily needs, just as he continues to look out for Danielle and her two children. As for Danielle, it has been three years since that day. While she realizes true hope has no price tag, she continues to be thankful for the lifetime supply that she received for the price of just twenty dollars.

[Gerry Atric]

I'll share something I found inspirational. On election day, a young black man walked into my precinct. I found it odd, as our precinct is probably 98% white. I heard him speak to a poll worker while he explained an error that requuired him to walk all the way across town to vote in my precinct. Indeed some snafu had caused him to be on our rolls and not on his home precinct's list. Rather than argue with the precinct workers at his home precinct, he set out and walked nine miles to north Atlanta to vote. After he voted, I stopped him and offered him the $1.75 to be able to take the bus home. He thanked me, but refused and said, "thank you, but I feel so good today I don't mind walking. Besides my grandmother walked from Montgomery to Memphis, braving the taunts and hateful shouts of hundreds of angry people and the least I can do is to walk the nearly twenty miles to and from my house to vote my choice." He was a polite and articulate young man that was excited about the possibilities of the coming years. I was genuinely touched by his quiet enthusiasm.

[supernana]

Gerry Atric wrote:

I'll share something I found inspirational. On election day, a young black man walked into my precinct. I found it odd, as our precinct is probably 98% white. I heard him speak to a poll worker while he explained an error that requuired him to walk all the way across town to vote in my precinct. Indeed some snafu had caused him to be on our rolls and not on his home precinct's list. Rather than argue with the precinct workers at his home precinct, he set out and walked nine miles to north Atlanta to vote. After he voted, I stopped him and offered him the $1.75 to be able to take the bus home. He thanked me, but refused and said, "thank you, but I feel so good today I don't mind walking. Besides my grandmother walked from Montgomery to Memphis, braving the taunts and hateful shouts of hundreds of angry people and the least I can do is to walk the nearly twenty miles to and from my house to vote my choice." He was a polite and articulate young man that was excited about the possibilities of the coming years. I was genuinely touched by his quiet enthusiasm.

We should all be this strong and dedicated to upholding our convictions. I let mean people discourage me from continuing to post my thoughts and defend others on this forum and for that I am ashamed. Kudos to anyone who stands strong in defense of our freedoms, whether it be to vote or to speak freely.

[supernana]

I cried all the way through reading this - I have to share it...

An Elfs Tale
An Elf’s Tale From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Christmas Cheer
It was six o’clock at the mall, and I was as exhausted as an elf on Christmas Eve. In fact, I was an elf and it was Christmas Eve. That December of my sixteenth year, I’d been working two jobs to help my parents with my school tuition and to make a little extra holiday money. My second job was as an elf for Santa to help with kids’ photos. Between my two jobs, I’d worked twelve hours straight the day before; on Christmas Eve, things were so busy at Santaland that I hadn’t even had a coffee break all day. But this was it -- only minutes more, and I’d have survived!

I looked over at Shelly, our manager, and she gave me an encouraging smile. She was the reason I’d made it through. She’d been thrown in as manager halfway through the season, and she’d made all the difference in the world. My job had changed from stress-filled to challenging. Instead of yelling at her workers to keep us in line, she encouraged us and stood behind us. She made us pull together as a team. Especially when things were their craziest, she always had a smile and an encouraging word. Under her leadership, we’d achieved the highest number of mall photo sales in California.

I knew it was a difficult holiday season for her -- she’d recently suffered a miscarriage. I hoped she knew how great she was and what a difference she’d made to all her workers, and to all the little children who’d come to have their pictures taken.

Our booth was open until seven; at six, things started to slow down and I finally took a break. Although I didn’t have much money, I really wanted to buy a little gift for Shelly so that she’d know we appreciated her. I got to a store that sold soap and lotion just as they put the grate down.“Sorry, we’re closed!” barked the clerk, who looked as tired as I was and didn’t sound sorry at all.

I looked around and, to my dismay, found that all the stores had closed. I’d been so tired I hadn’t noticed.

I was really bummed. I had been working all day and had missed buying her a present by one minute.

On my way back to the Santa booth, I saw that Nordstrom was still open. Fearful that they, too, would close at any moment, I hurried inside and followed the signs toward the Gift Gallery. As I rushed through the store, I began to feel very conspicuous. It seemed the other shoppers were all very well-dressed and wealthy -- and here I was a broke teenager in an elf costume. How could I even think I’d find something in such a posh store for under fifteen dollars?

I self-consciously jingled my way into the Gift Gallery. A woman sales associate, who also looked as if she’d just stepped off a fashion runway, came over and asked if she could help me. As she did, everyone in the department turned and stared.

As quietly as possible, I said,“No, that’s okay. Just help somebody else.”

She looked right at me and smiled.“No,” she said.“I want to help you.”

continued...

[supernana]

continued from above post:
I told the woman who I was buying for and why, then I sheepishly admitted I only had fifteen dollars to spend. She looked as pleased and thoughtful as if I’d just asked to spend $1500. By now, the department had emptied, but she carefully went around, selecting a few things that would make a nice basket. The total came to $14.09.
The store was closing; as she rang up the purchase, the lights were turned off.
I was thinking that if I could take them home and wrap them, I could make them really pretty but I didn’t have time.
As if reading my mind, the saleslady asked,“Do you need this wrapped?”
“Yes,” I said.
By now the store was closed. Over the intercom, a voice asked if there were still customers in the store. I knew this woman was probably as eager to get home on Christmas Eve as everybody else, and here she was stuck waiting on some kid with a measly purchase.
But she was gone in the back room a long time. When she returned, she brought out the most beautiful basket I’d ever seen. It was all wrapped up in silver and gold, and looked as if I’d spent fifty dollars on it -- at least. I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy!
When I thanked her, she said,“You elves are out in the mall spreading joy to so many people, I just wanted to bring a little joy to you.”
“Merry Christmas, Shelly,” I said back at the booth. My manager gasped when she saw the present; she was so touched and happy that she started crying. I hoped it gave a happy start to her Christmas.
All through the holidays, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kindness and effort of the saleswoman, and how much joy she had brought to me, and in turn to my manager. I thought the least I could do was to write a letter to the store and let them know about it. About a week later, I got a reply from the store, thanking me for writing.
I thought that was the end of it, until mid-January.

continued...

[supernana]

continued from above post:

That’s when I got a call from Stephanie, the sales associate. She wanted to take me to lunch. Me, a fifteen-dollar, sixteen-year-old customer.

When we met, Stephanie gave me a hug, and a present, and told me this story.

She had walked into a recent employee meeting to find herself on the list of nominees to be named the Nordstrom All-Star. She was confused but excited, as she had never before been nominated. At the point in the meeting when the winner was announced, they called Stephanie -- she’d won! When she went up front to accept the award, her manager read my letter out loud. Everyone gave her a huge round of applause.

Winning meant that her picture was put up in the store lobby, she got new business cards with Nordstrom All-Star written on them, a 14-karat gold pin, a 100-dollar award, and was invited to represent her department at the regional meeting.

At the regional meeting, they read my letter and everyone gave Stephanie a standing ovation.“This is what we want all of our employees to be like!” said the manager who read the letter. She got to meet three of the Nordstrom brothers, who were each very complimentary.

I was already a little overwhelmed when Stephanie took my hand.“But that’s not the best part, Tyree,” she said.“The day of that first store meeting, I took a list of the nominees, and put your letter behind it, with the 100-dollar bill behind that. I took it home and gave it to my father. He read everything and looked at me and said,“When do you find out who won?”

“I said,‘I won, Dad.’”

“He looked me right in the eye and said,‘Stephanie, I’m really proud of you.’”

Quietly, she said,“My dad has never said he was proud of me.”

I think I’ll remember that moment all my life. That was when I realized what a powerful gift appreciation can be. Shelly’s appreciation of her workers had set into motion a chain of events -- Stephanie’s beautiful basket, my letter, Nordstrom’s award -- that had changed at least three lives.

[supernana]

well shucks! I guess my computer is hexed! The middle part of this story didn't post so I'll post it again. This should have been posted after An Elf's Tale and "That's when I got a call..."

middle of above story:
I told the woman who I was buying for and why, then I sheepishly admitted I only had fifteen dollars to spend. She looked as pleased and thoughtful as if I’d just asked to spend $1500. By now, the department had emptied, but she carefully went around, selecting a few things that would make a nice basket. The total came to $14.09.

The store was closing; as she rang up the purchase, the lights were turned off.

I was thinking that if I could take them home and wrap them, I could make them really pretty but I didn’t have time.

As if reading my mind, the saleslady asked,“Do you need this wrapped?”

“Yes,” I said.

By now the store was closed. Over the intercom, a voice asked if there were still customers in the store. I knew this woman was probably as eager to get home on Christmas Eve as everybody else, and here she was stuck waiting on some kid with a measly purchase.

But she was gone in the back room a long time. When she returned, she brought out the most beautiful basket I’d ever seen. It was all wrapped up in silver and gold, and looked as if I’d spent fifty dollars on it -- at least. I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy!

When I thanked her, she said,“You elves are out in the mall spreading joy to so many people, I just wanted to bring a little joy to you.”

“Merry Christmas, Shelly,” I said back at the booth. My manager gasped when she saw the present; she was so touched and happy that she started crying. I hoped it gave a happy start to her Christmas.

All through the holidays, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kindness and effort of the saleswoman, and how much joy she had brought to me, and in turn to my manager. I thought the least I could do was to write a letter to the store and let them know about it. About a week later, I got a reply from the store, thanking me for writing.

I thought that was the end of it, until mid-January.

[supernana]

Good grief! Just disregard the repeated above post. My computer, like me is a little senile! That middle part of the story was not posted for a while (long enough for me to post it again!) Sorry for the extra reading for those of you who don't like to read long post! ;)

[justgirls]

Fays Nana wrote:

Got this in my e-mail today.
It was a neat conversation. I have never thought of my past as being a “scary topic.” On the contrary, I truly believe that for those of us who were saved later in life, our past affords a great opportunity to personally illustrate the most incredible thing in the universe.
Since very early on, my husband and I have always tried to be completely real and transparent in front of our kids about who Christ is and how He came to save sinners. Sinners like us and sinners like them. Even when they were very young, I would take advantage of opportunities to let my kids know that my life was a slimy mess when I did not walk in obedience to God (and that it can still be a slimy mess when I don’t walk in obedience to God … but more on that later). And even still, when my children notice somebody who seems particularly wicked—a nasty, rebellious-looking teenager yelling at her parents, an immodestly dressed woman, the drunk man who makes a spectacle of himself in town, etc.—I let them know,“It looks like they may not know our Lord.” And I also let them know,“Kids, before I knew the Lord, my actions looked even uglier. There are a lot of things that God has saved me from. I am grateful for His mercy and grace.”

Inspiring. We all have an ugly past...it's a choice whether we stay there or not. Blessings to you Fays Nana.P:31BC

[supernana]

Amen.

[supernana]

Christmas Magic From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Christmas Cheer
BY: By Barbara Bartlein

I wish I could tell you that the whole thing happened because I’m caring and unselfish, but that wouldn’t be true. I had just moved back to Wisconsin from Colorado because I missed my family and Denver wages were terrible. I took a job at a hospice in Milwaukee and found my niche working with the patients and families. As the season changed into fall, the schedule for the holidays was posted:

DECEMBER 24: 3-11 Barbara
DECEMBER 25: 3-11 Barbara

I was devastated. Newly engaged, it was my first Christmas back home with my family after many years. But with no seniority, I had little clout to get Christmas off while my dedicated colleagues worked.

While lamenting my predicament, I came up with an idea. Since I couldn’t be with my family, I would bring my family to the hospice. With the patients and their families struggling through their last Christmases together, maybe this gathering would lend support. My family thought it was a wonderful plan, and so did the staff. Several invited their relatives to participate, too.

As we brainstormed ideas for a hospice Christmas, we remembered the annual 11:00 P.M. Christmas Eve service scheduled in the hospital chapel.

“Why don’t we take the patients to church?” I suggested.

“Yes,” replied another staff nurse.“It’s a beautiful candlelight service with music. I bet the patients would love it.”

“Great. And we can have a little party afterwards, with punch, cookies and small gifts,” I added.

Our enthusiasm increased as we planned the details of our hospice Christmas celebration.

Now, it never occurred to me that all these great ideas might not float so well with the administration. It never occurred to me that we might have to get permission for each of these activities—until the director called me into her office.

“Uh, Barb, I’m hearing rumors of a Christmas Eve celebration here at the hospice.”

“Well, yes,” I replied. Eagerly, I outlined all the plans and ideas the staff had developed. Fortunately for my career, she thought involving our families with the unit activities was a wonderful idea, too.

“But,” she said,“certainly you are not serious about taking the patients to church. It has never been done.”

“Yes, I’m serious. It would mean a lot to the patients and families.”

“Very seldom do you see any patients at this service, and if they do go, they are ambulatory and dressed.” She shook her head.“Our patients are too sick to go.”

“But a number of them have indicated an interest,” I argued.

“I cannot authorize the additional staff needed.”

“The family members can help.”

“What about the liability?”

Now I felt like saying,“What could be the worst thing that could happen—someone dies in church?” But I didn’t. I just kept convincing her, until she begrudgingly gave approval.

[supernana]

continued from above post:
Christmas Eve arrived. Family members gathered in the lounge and decorated a small tree, complete with wrapped packages. Then we implemented our plan for the staff and families to transport the patients to the chapel. While most of the patients had family members with them, one young girl had no one. At just nineteen, Sandy had terminal liver cancer. Her mother had died of cancer three years previously, and her father stopped coming long ago. Perhaps he couldn’t sit by the bedside of another loved one dying so young. So my family “took charge” of Sandy. My sister combed her hair while my mother applied just a hint of lipstick. They laughed and joked like three old friends as my fiancé helped her move to a gurney.

Meanwhile, other nurses hung IVs on poles, put IVACs on battery support and gave last-minute pain meds. Then, with patients in wheelchairs and on gurneys, we paraded our group into the chapel just as they were finishing “Joy to the World,” with the organ and bells ringing out in perfect harmony. Silence descended on the congregation as we rolled slowly down the aisle. The minister just stood there with his mouth open, staring. Everyone turned around to look at us. We faltered in our steps, each movement echoing in the large, crowded chapel.

Then the magic began.

One by one, people stood up, filed into the aisle and began to help us. They handed patients hymnals and distributed programs. They wheeled patients to the front so they could see well. They handed out candles to be lit for the closing hymn. One woman adjusted Sandy’s pillow and stroked her hair. Throughout the service, the congregation catered to our patients, guiding them through the worship.

The beautiful service closed with a candlelight recessional to “Silent Night.” Voices rang in disjointed harmony as the congregation assisted us in exiting the chapel and returning our charges to the unit. Many stayed to share punch and cookies and stories.

As I got Sandy ready for bed that late night, she whispered,“This was one of the nicest Christmases I ever had.”

When I shared her comments with my family later, we realized the magic that evening was on many levels. The unit had a special climate we’d never experienced before. Sandy had one of the best Christmases she’d ever known. The congregation had shared in a special, caring way. But we also realized that this evening impacted our family as well. We felt closer, bonded in purpose and spirit.

Since that Christmas, my family has been blessed with many Christmases together—but I think that one was the best. Like the author Bill Shore, I, too, believe that when you give to others and give to the community, you create something within yourself that is important and lasting. He calls it the “Cathedral Within.”

Our family cathedral is a little stronger for the privilege of giving that Christmas.

[rewind]

Yep. Quality stuff here too.

[Agree]

Why doesn't the sincere people on topix who aren't all about gossip and hurling insults keep topics like these going.

[trying again]

I keep bumping and it doesn't move. What's up with that - topix readers don't need inspiration?(from what I've read, a little inspiration to be nice to each other is a good idea, if these folks will be open to it and let it sink in!)

[de zah vu]

Inspired, yes.

[Probably]

It's a shame these topix readers/writers aren't participating anymore. They probably got tired of competing with the nonsense topics and the unnecessary bashing of their topics. It is a shame, these were good topics.