Building Our Lives and Overcoming Ourselves…

In the final analysis The battleground is, for each individual, within Himself Marion G. RomneyBuilding Your House

— Author Unknown

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building business to live a more leisurely life with his wife and enjoy his extended family. He would miss the paycheck each week, but he wanted to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but over time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career.

When the carpenter finished his work, his employer came to inspect the house. Then he handed the front-door key to the carpenter and said, “This is your house… my gift to you.”

The carpenter was shocked!

What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently.

So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then, with a shock, we realize we have to live in the house we have built. If we could do it over, we’d do it much differently.

But, you cannot go back. You are the carpenter, and every day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall.

Someone once said, “Life is a do-it-yourself project.” Your attitude, and the choices you make today, help build the “house” you will live in tomorrow.

Build wisely!

Today’s inspiring story was shared from the following website: http://inspire21.com/stories/lifestories/BuildingYourHouse

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Every Life Matters…Everyone has a Mission!

Outstanding people have one thing in common: An absolute sense of mission Zig Ziglar

Why You Need to Tell Your Story to the World

Who are you? I bet you have a story to tell. Will you tell it? What would be the cost to you in your life if you choose not to tell your story? What would you like to share with the people who know you- and those who don’t?

Of all the things that you can do to make the world a better place, few things are more valuable and beneficial than telling your story. Great platforms such as this one, right here on Medium, blast the doors wide open to affording people, like you and me, this privilege. No one can tell your story better than you can. Chances are, you will help others and yourself in the process.

Where have you been and what have you learned? What do you hold dear? What have you endured and what has made you tougher? How have your experiences enlightened you and in turn, inspired and informed you to produce positive change for others?

Is your story a sad one, a trial of difficulties and hurtful experiences? If so, plenty of people will want to empathize and learn from the battles you’ve fought. And when you’re ready to tell that story, you’ll find that opening up to a person or community that you can trust, will allow a big weight to plummet from off of your shoulders.

The World Has Much To Gain From Your Story

I, for one, would love to know the values that you cling to; what matters in your life. Why and where you’re going to the places you are, and how you plan to get there. Do you realize the power that your words and actions have and how you can impact others, whatever your chosen path is in life?

Past, present and future, we have adventures, trials, failures, journeys and epic wins to share with people. There isn’t an excuse, really, if you don’t let others know your story. There’s so much to gain from the knowledge you possess. You will know your story- and the lessons that accompany it- better than anything else you’ll ever know in this world.

We waste time on websites like Twitter becoming followers, on Facebook being fans, all while we could be leaders today. The worst mistake we can make in life is thinking that other people don’t care what we have to say.

As I’ve consulted with business leaders, coached professionals and students, and learned from others, I’ve realized that each individual has a tremendous amount to contribute to humanity. Everyone can make a positive difference in the world through storytelling.

Stories of interest, humor, intellect, science, art, sport, love and more.

Our stories are unique, genuine and real. They are better told when we have the stage alone to ourselves. It certainly takes courage to tell your story- or any great story for that matter. There’s so much to lose by living in fear and passing on the opportunity to impact the lives of others. When we tell stories we’re excited about, we get excited and animated. We deliver them like they’re impassioned pleas to rejoice in the experience!

If you’ve never tried, I hope you’re willing to take the first step.

Find The Courage

Five years ago, a very good friend of mine invited me to join the young adult community at his church. Not long after, there I was, nervous as can be, sharing my personal story with a room of 40 strangers. I went into detail about my upbringing, my values, my family and my “why” for living. I shared the story of my life, how important faith is to me and the aspirations that drive me to be the man I am.

It was positively liberating!

I certainly didn’t deliver a Steve Jobs-like effort and believe me, it was no, “I Have a Dream speech.” But I got my message across in a manner that was sincere, honest, authentic and open. I may have influenced the lives of people in that room and maybe I inspired others to pursue their dreams more fervently. I don’t know that for certain. But it certainly made me feel better and I received very genuine, heartfelt praise afterwards.

That moment served as a springboard for me to want to share more of story and my journey with others.

The important thing is that I took the first step: I told my story- I gave it a shot. I encourage you to tell your story, when you feel the time is right. Trust me when I say, people want to hear it. As I have learned, the world is demanding it! The world needs you to tell your story.

Go forth in confidence and watch as the wave of positive emotions wash over your life and the lives of others.

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Glory to God in the Highest…

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men Luke 2:14

A Christmas Story

Author Unknown

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.

He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana, at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck.

The kids stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.

Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.

She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night. I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night, when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-fully half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added another strain to my meager wage.

The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home. One bleak fall morning, I draggedwagged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat.

New tires!

There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires. I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn’t enough.

Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o’clock on Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.) It was still dark and I couldn’t see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car-or was that just a trick of the night?

Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached he car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver’s side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries.

There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

Today’s inspirational story is shared from the following website: http://www.inspire21.com/stories/holidaystories/christmasstory

 

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Thankfulness vs Gratitude…

Thankfulness is measured by the number of words. Gratitude is measured by the nature of our actions. David O. McKayWe understand that the human experience is filled with emotions. Emotions are the spice that give the cake flavor.

What we don’t always understand is the power of our emotions for both good and bad.

I often see the powerful effect of emotions. As a result of those experiences, I believe that our emotions may be the single most important factor in regards to our health.

There are two things that I believe can redeem our health (all areas) more dramatically than anything else: The emotion of Gratitude and the Act of Forgiveness.

When we read in the scriptures about becoming as a small child, I think of Gratitude and Forgiveness. A small child is naturally grateful and naturally forgiving. As we grow into adulthood those tendencies often become less and less automatic. Often, the gift of gratitude and forgiving must be cultivated deliberately.

Take some time to reflect today. If all areas of your health were dependent on your ability to have gratitude and to give forgiveness, how well can you realistically expect to be? Do you feel good about where you are or do you need to do some work? (I always need to do some work but that’s okay as long as I keep working at it!)

I share today’s story because even though it does not directly address forgiving or thankfulness – underlying the story I believe is a complete foundation of thankfulness and gratitude! I hope you enjoy!:

Thanks For Taking Care of Me

— Author Unknown

Like most elementary schools, it was typical to have a parade of students in and out of the health clinic throughout the day. We dispensed ice for bumps and bruises, Band-Aids for cuts, and liberal doses of sympathy and hugs. As principal, my office was right next door to the clinic, so I often dropped in to lend a hand and help out with the hugs. I knew that for some kids, mine might be the only one they got all day.

One morning I was putting a Band-Aid on a little girl’s scraped knee. Her blonde hair was matted, and I noticed that she was shivering in her thin little sleeveless blouse. I found her a warm sweatshirt and helped her pull it on. “Thanks for taking care of me,” she whispered as she climbed into my lap and snuggled up against me.

It wasn’t long after that when I ran across an unfamiliar lump under my arm. Cancer, an aggressively spreading kind, had already invaded thirteen of my lymph nodes. I pondered whether or not to tell the students about my diagnosis. The word breast seemed so hard to say out loud to them, and the word cancer seemed so frightening.

When it became evident that the children were going to find out one way or another, either the straight scoop from me or possibly a garbled version from someone else, I decided to tell them myself. It wasn’t easy to get the words out, but the empathy and concern I saw in their faces as I explained it to them told me I had made the right decision. When I gave them a chance to ask questions, they mostly wanted to know how they could help. I told them that what I would like best would be their letters, pictures and prayers.

I stood by the gym door as the children solemnly filed out. My little blonde friend darted out of line and threw herself into my arms. Then she stepped back to look up into my face. “Don’t be afraid, Dr. Perry,” she said earnestly, “I know you’ll be back because now it’s our turn to take care of you.”

No one could have ever done a better job. The kids sent me off to my first chemotherapy session with a hilarious book of nausea remedies that they had written. A video of every class in the school singing get-well songs accompanied me to the next chemotherapy appointment. By the third visit, the nurses were waiting at the door to find out what I would bring next. It was a delicate music box that played “I Will Always Love You.”

Even when I went into isolation at the hospital for a bone marrow transplant, the letters and pictures kept coming until they covered every wall of my room.

Then the kids traced their hands onto colored paper, cut them out and glued them together to make a freestanding rainbow of helping hands. “I feel like I’ve stepped into Disneyland every time I walk into this room,” my doctor laughed. That was even before the six-foot apple blossom tree arrived adorned with messages written on paper apples from the students and teachers. What healing comfort I found in being surrounded by these tokens of their caring.

At long last I was well enough to return to work. As I headed up the road to the school, I was suddenly overcome by doubts. What if the kids have forgotten all about me? I wondered, What if they don’t want a skinny bald principal? What if I caught sight of the school marquee as I rounded the bend. “Welcome Back, Dr. Perry,” it read. As I drew closer, everywhere I looked were pink ribbons – ribbons in the windows, tied on the doorknobs, even up in the trees. The children and staff wore pink ribbons, too.

My blonde buddy was first in line to greet me. “You’re back, Dr. Perry, you’re back!” she called. “See, I told you we’d take care of you!”

As I hugged her tight, in the back of my mind I faintly heard my music box playing… “I will always love you.”

Story shared from the following website: http://www.inspire21.com/stories/truestories/thanksfortakingcareofme

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We Have a Dream to Dream and A Life to Build…

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them Walt DisneyOne of the things that I know and understand as a result of my near-death experience is that our heart shares the voice of God with us. I have been shown in dreams some wonderful things. I know that those dreams are meant to become reality.

However, there is a catch. Until and unless I do something to manifest those dreams, they will never come true. I must exercise faith and effort for my dreams to come true.

What about you? Do you have dreams? Is there a desire in your heart that has been placed there by God? Is there something special you are meant to do with your life? I believe the answer to both questions is YES!

We all have special work to do during our lifetime. We all have our hearts speak to us of those special tasks that are ours to manifest. I hope you will enjoy the article I share with you today and that you will dare to dream YOUR DREAM!:

Grow Great By Dreams

The question was once asked of a highly successful businessman, “How have you done so much in your lifetime?”

He replied, “I grow great by dreams. I have turned my mind loose to imagine what I wanted to do. Then I have gone to bed and thought about my dreams. In the night I dream about my dreams. And when I awoke in the morning, I saw the way to make my dreams real. While other people were saying, ‘You can’t do that, it is impossible,’ I was well on my way to achieving what I wanted.”As Woodrow Wilson, 28th President of the U.S., said: “We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers.”

“As Woodrow Wilson, 28th President of the U.S., said: “We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers.”

They see things in the soft haze of a spring day, or in the red fire on a long winter’s evening. Some of us let these dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nourish them through bad days until they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.

So please, don not let anyone steal your dreams, or try to tell you they are too impossible.

“Sing your songs, and dream your dreams, hope your hope and pray your prayer.”

Today’s inspiring article is shared from the following website: http://www.pravsworld.com/grow-great-by-dreams/

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