Blog de chocolategirl12 - Chocolate

Friendship!

It is weird how u go from being strangers to being friends....to being more than friends to being practically strangers again...and it all happens so fast!

I MISS YOU MY FRIENDS!!!!

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# Posté le jeudi 12 juin 2008 16:15

Modifié le mardi 17 juin 2008 10:39

Prenez le temps de lire car la musique cessera un jour.
La vie est si courte.
Lorsque tu cours si vite pour te rendre quelque part, tu manques la moitie du plaisir d'y etre.
Lorsque tu t'inquietes et te fais du souci toute la journee, c'est comme un cadeau non ouvert que tu jetterais ... La vie n'est pas une course,tu dois ralentir ton rythme, prends le temps d'ecouter la musique avant que la chanson ne soit terminee.

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# Posté le dimanche 25 mai 2008 13:06

Happiness....Hope.....

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where
they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world
outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene .

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could
not hear the band, he could see it in his mind s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks and months passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him
alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was
blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, 'Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.'

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.

Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.

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# Posté le lundi 21 avril 2008 14:33

Modifié le dimanche 25 mai 2008 13:22

Hands...

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench.
She did not move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.
When I sat down beside her she did not acknowledge my presence And the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.
She raised her head, looked at me, and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked.
"I mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them.
I turned them over, palms up and then palms down.
No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years.
These hands though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I Crashed upon the floor.
They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.
As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.
They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.
They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war. "They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.
They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.
Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special
They wrote my letters to him, trembled, and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.
"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.
But more importantly it will be these Hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.
And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again.