<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:44:51.750+02:00</updated><category term='Parents'/><category term='Life'/><category term='Truth'/><category term='Learning'/><category term='Responsability'/><category term='Friendship'/><category term='God'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Option'/><category term='Awareness'/><category term='Compassion'/><category term='Humility'/><category term='Happiness'/><category term='Fear'/><category term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>whAt liFe iS aBoUt...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>103</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-7659105582537134959</id><published>2007-04-28T22:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T22:18:15.153+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>A Chinese Proverb</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;font-family:georgia;"&gt;If there is righteousness in the heart, there will be beauty in the character. If there is beauty in the character, there will be harmony in the home. If there is harmony in the home, there will be order in the nation. Where there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-7659105582537134959?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/7659105582537134959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=7659105582537134959&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/7659105582537134959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/7659105582537134959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2007/04/chinese-proverb.html' title='A Chinese Proverb'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-1782563087973385984</id><published>2007-02-14T15:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T15:13:34.442+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happiness'/><title type='text'>Happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his life would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, 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 detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days and weeks 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have that money can't buy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-1782563087973385984?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/1782563087973385984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=1782563087973385984&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/1782563087973385984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/1782563087973385984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2007/02/happiness.html' title='Happiness'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-6821629988977194327</id><published>2007-01-02T20:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T20:55:21.970+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Eight  Gifts That Do Not Cost  A Cent</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;THE GIFT OF LISTENING...&lt;br /&gt;But you must REALLY listen. No interrupting, no daydreaming, no planning your response. Just listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF AFFECTION...     &lt;br /&gt;Be generous with appropriate hugs, kisses, pats on the back and holds. Let these small actions demonstrate the love you have for family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF LAUGHTER...&lt;br /&gt;Clip cartoons. Share articles and funny stories. Your gift will say, "I love to laugh with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF A WRITTEN NOTE...&lt;br /&gt;It can be a simple "Thanks for the help" note or a full sonnet. A brief, handwritten note may be remembered for a lifetime, and may even change a life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF A COMPLIMENT...&lt;br /&gt;A simple and sincere, "You look great in red," "You did a super job" or "That was a wonderful meal" can make someone's day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF A FAVOR...&lt;br /&gt;Every day, go out of your way to do something kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF SOLITUDE...&lt;br /&gt;There are times when we want nothing better than to be left alone. Be sensitive to those times and give the gift of solitude to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIFT OF A CHEERFUL DISPOSITION...&lt;br /&gt;The easiest way to feel good is to extend a kind word to someone, really it's not that hard to say, Hello or Thank You. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-6821629988977194327?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/6821629988977194327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=6821629988977194327&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6821629988977194327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6821629988977194327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2007/01/eight-gifts-that-do-not-cost-cent.html' title='Eight  Gifts That Do Not Cost  A Cent'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-6310614539913964187</id><published>2006-12-18T21:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T21:54:07.658+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Time Bank</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Imagine there is a bank that credits your account each morning with $86,400.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It carries over no balance from day to day.&lt;br /&gt;Every evening the bank deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of us has such a bank. Its name is TIME.&lt;br /&gt;Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft.&lt;br /&gt;Each day it opens a new account for you.&lt;br /&gt;Each night it burns the remains of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no going back. There is no drawing against the "tomorrow".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must live in the present on today's deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clock is running. Make the most of today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Treasure every moment that you have! And reassure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember that time waits for no one.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday is history.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is mystery.&lt;br /&gt;Today is a gift.&lt;br /&gt;That's why it's called the present!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-6310614539913964187?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/6310614539913964187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=6310614539913964187&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6310614539913964187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6310614539913964187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/12/time-bank.html' title='Time Bank'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-2286225039630044907</id><published>2006-11-29T20:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T20:27:27.171+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Option'/><title type='text'>Big Rocks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day an expert in time management was speaking to a group of business students and to drive home a point, used an illustration those students will never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he stood in front of the group of high-powered overachievers he said, "Okay, time for a quiz," and he pulled out a one gallon wide mouth mason jar and set it on the table in front of him. He also produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar. When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, "Is this jar full?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in the class yelled, "Yes." The time management expert replied,"Really?" He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. He dumped some of the gravel in and shook the jar causing the pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks. He then asked the class once more if the jar was full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time the class was on to him and said "Probably not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good" he replied. He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand and started dumping it into the jar. The sand went into all of the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked if the jar was full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO!" the class shouted. Once again he said "Good" and grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it into the jar until the jar was filled to the brim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he looked around the room and asked, "What is the point of this illustration?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One eager beaver raised his hand and said, "The point is that no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard you can always fit some more in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO," the speaker replied, "that's not the point. The truth is that this illustration teaches us that if you don't put the 'big rocks' in first, you'll never get them in at all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are the 'big rocks' in your life? Time with our loved ones, your faith, your education, your dreams, a worthy cause, teaching or mentoring others. Remember to put these BIG ROCKS in first, or you'll never get them in at all. So, tonight, or in the morning, when you are reflecting on this short story, ask yourself this question: What are the BIG ROCKS in my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, put those in your jar first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-2286225039630044907?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/2286225039630044907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=2286225039630044907&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/2286225039630044907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/2286225039630044907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/big-rocks.html' title='Big Rocks'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-7996505423911727372</id><published>2006-11-23T20:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-23T20:31:38.128+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Work To Live, Not Live To Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's 5:00 o'clock in the morning; the alarm sets off. You get out of bed. You take a bath. You have your breakfast. You leave the house. You're ready to face another working day. Or are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid, I would ask my mom why she and my father had to work. She would always tell me that they had to, so we could have the money to buy food, to pay for the bills, to pay for our schooling (we come from a middle income family). Both my parents worked but I'm really grateful to God; that in spite of that, we were never lacking in love, time, nor care from our parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a matter of fact, my brothers and I grew up to be responsible individuals because our parents really took care of us. Although they were at the office 5 days a week from 8:00am to 5:00pm, they still found time to look after us, and teach us our lessons in the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made sure that we did our homework. They didn't pressure us to aspire for honors, but we were motivated enough to study hard so we'd get good grades. It was our way of repaying our parents who never complained about working. I guess fate has been really good to my brothers and me because, modesty aside, all of us managed to land in the top of our respective classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents taught me that one has to work in order for him to live a good life. They stressed, however, that this should not be taken as having to live just to work! They said that work should only be a part of life and it should not occupy one's whole existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they lived this philosophy. At the end of the work day, they would leave all their work-related problems in the office so that at home they could be devoted to us 100%, no less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say that agree with them. To this day, I still hear their message that work should be just a part of life and not life itself. I pity those people who have their way in this game called life. They have forgotten how to really live because they work too hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There' nothing wrong with striving at work, but people must watch out for signs that they have begun to work themselves to death. Remember that anything in excess is bad. Maybe, they want to achieve something badly, that's why they work so hard. But I believe that success in the workplace doesn't always bring happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be successful means that you have to sacrifice some things and sometimes, you end up sacrificing your family, your friends, your life; you achieve your professional goals, but you lose yourself. Then you wonder if the loss is worth the gain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody's wish, in this world, is happiness and there are many ways to be happy. But when we work too hard or worry too much, we often forget that the simple things in life are those that make us happy…. a call from a friend, a smile from a stranger, the sight of a lovely flower, a surprise gift, a filling meal, a pat on the back, etc. It doesn't require much to get these gifts. These gifts are for free, but they provide immeasurable happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work to live and not live to work. Find time for yourself, for your family, for your friends. Keep in mind that your priority is your loved ones, and not your work. Everybody deserves to be happy and I hope that everyone grows old without any regret in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope each of us will have a smile on our faces when we reminisce the old times, I hope that everyone finds living exciting, wonderful. It is my wish that we would all find the time to do the things that really matter most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us work hard, not purely for our professional goals, but for a better life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-7996505423911727372?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/7996505423911727372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=7996505423911727372&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/7996505423911727372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/7996505423911727372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/work-to-live-not-live-to-work.html' title='Work To Live, Not Live To Work'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-3501205940594448200</id><published>2006-11-20T22:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T23:02:47.793+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>What do Angels Look Like?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Like the little old lady who returned your wallet yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Like the taxi driver who told you that your eyes light up the world when you smile.&lt;br /&gt;Like the small child who showed you the wonder in simple things.&lt;br /&gt;Like the poor man who offered to share his lunch with you.&lt;br /&gt;Like the rich man who showed you that it really is all possible, if only you believe.&lt;br /&gt;Like the stranger who just happened to come along, when you had lost your way.&lt;br /&gt;Like the friend who touched your heart, when you didn't think you had one to touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angels come in all sizes and shapes, all ages and skin types and colors.&lt;br /&gt;Some with freckles, some with dimples, some with wrinkles, some without.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They come disguised as friends, enemies, nurses, teachers, students, lovers, and fools.&lt;br /&gt;They don't take life too seriously.&lt;br /&gt;They travel light.&lt;br /&gt;They leave no forwarding address.&lt;br /&gt;They ask nothing in return.&lt;br /&gt;They wear sneakers and gossamer wings.&lt;br /&gt;They get a deal on dry cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are hard to find when your eyes are closed, but, they are everywhere you look when you choose to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-3501205940594448200?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/3501205940594448200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=3501205940594448200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/3501205940594448200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/3501205940594448200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/what-do-angels-look-like.html' title='What do Angels Look Like?'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-8953425792436707134</id><published>2006-11-17T16:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T16:20:29.084+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Perceptions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There were two brothers in a small village in the Eastern Cape. The twin brothers grew up knowing nothing else but poverty. Their father was an alcoholic and their mother a domestic worker. They grew up with very little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On their way home one day, their parents were involved in a bus accident and died instantly. The brothers' condition became even worse. At age 17 they separated. Years and years later a family member decided to find them for a family reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the brothers was a wealthy engineer owning a construction company. He had a wife and three beautiful kids. The other was an alcoholic with no sense of direction for his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The family member asked the engineer, "How did your life turn out like this?"&lt;br /&gt;"What did you expect with a childhood like mine?" he answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She moved on to the other brother with the same question.&lt;br /&gt;"What did you expect with a childhood like mine?" was his answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This tells us that, "men are not disturbed by the things that happened but by their perception of the things that happened".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-8953425792436707134?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/8953425792436707134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=8953425792436707134&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/8953425792436707134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/8953425792436707134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/perceptions.html' title='Perceptions'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-4577842579906785369</id><published>2006-11-14T20:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T20:46:22.179+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Option'/><title type='text'>Deciding</title><content type='html'>Outside my window, a new day I see,&lt;br /&gt;And only I can determine&lt;br /&gt;What kind of day it will be.&lt;br /&gt;It can be busy and sunny, laughing and gay,&lt;br /&gt;Or boring and cold, unhappy and gray.&lt;br /&gt;My own state of mind is the determining key,&lt;br /&gt;For I am only the person I let myself be.&lt;br /&gt;I can be thoughtful and do all I can to help,&lt;br /&gt;Or be selfish and think just of myself.&lt;br /&gt;I can enjoy what I do and make it seem fun,&lt;br /&gt;Or gripe and complain and make it hard on someone.&lt;br /&gt;I can be patient with those who may not understand&lt;br /&gt;Or belittle and hurt them as much as I can.&lt;br /&gt;But I have faith in myself,&lt;br /&gt;And believe what I say&lt;br /&gt;And I personally intend to make the most of each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-4577842579906785369?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/4577842579906785369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=4577842579906785369&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/4577842579906785369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/4577842579906785369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/deciding.html' title='Deciding'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-2492948726743343580</id><published>2006-11-11T00:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T00:26:53.157+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning'/><title type='text'>Sioux Indian Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My grandfather took me to the fish pond on the farm when I was about seven, and he told me to throw a stone into the water. He told me to watch the circles created by the stone.Then he asked me to think of myself as that stone person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may create lots of splashes in your life but the waves that come from those splashes will disturb the peace of all your fellow creatures," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Remember that you are responsible for what you put in your circle and that circle will also touch many other circles. You will need to live in a way that allows the good that comes from your circle to send the peace of that goodness to others. The splash that comes from anger or jealousy will send those feelings to other circles. You are responsible for both."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the first time I realized each person creates the inner peace or discord that flows out into the world. We cannot create world peace if we are riddled with inner conflict, hatred, doubt, or anger. We radiate the feelings and thoughts that we hold inside, whether we speak them or not. Whatever is splashing around inside of us is spilling out into the world, creating beauty or discord with all other circles of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-2492948726743343580?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/2492948726743343580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=2492948726743343580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/2492948726743343580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/2492948726743343580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/sioux-indian-story_11.html' title='Sioux Indian Story'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-6036317881109304957</id><published>2006-11-09T21:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T21:45:11.190+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Coffee..?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and in life. Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups and were eyeing each other's cups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now consider this: Life is the coffee and the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and do not change the quality of Life. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided. So, don't let the cups drive you ... enjoy the coffee instead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-6036317881109304957?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/6036317881109304957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=6036317881109304957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6036317881109304957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6036317881109304957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/11/coffee.html' title='Coffee..?'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-2044139423344893681</id><published>2006-10-27T14:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T14:45:29.910+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>We'll See</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once upon a time, there was a farmer in the central region of China. He didn't have a lot of money and, instead of a tractor, he used an old horse to plow his field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One afternoon, while working in the field, the horse dropped dead. Everyone in the village said, "Oh, what a horrible thing to happen." The farmer said simply, "We'll see." He was so at peace and so calm, that everyone in the village got together and, admiring his attitude, gave him a new horse as a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's reaction now was, "What a lucky man." And the farmer said, "We'll see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple days later, the new horse jumped a fence and ran away. Everyone in the village shook their heads and said, "What a poor fellow!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer smiled and said, "We'll see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, the horse found his way home, and everyone again said, "What a fortunate man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, "We'll see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the year, the farmer's young boy went out riding on the horse and fell and broke his leg. Everyone in the village said, "What a shame for the poor boy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, "We'll see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later, the army came into the village to draft new recruits. When they saw that the farmer's son had a broken leg, they decided not to recruit him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone said, "What a fortunate young man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer smiled again - and said "We'll see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: There's no use in overreacting to the events and circumstances of our everyday lives. Many times what looks like a setback, may actually be a gift in disguise. And when our hearts are in the right place, all events and circumstances are gifts that we can learn valuable lessons from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-2044139423344893681?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/2044139423344893681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=2044139423344893681&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/2044139423344893681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/2044139423344893681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/10/well-see.html' title='We&apos;ll See'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-6429187297096278755</id><published>2006-10-26T21:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T14:46:25.919+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>The Given Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once upon a time a man had heard, that in a foreign place, far away, there was a holy flame burning. So he got up and left his home to find the holy flame and bring some of its light back home to his house. He thought: 'When I have this light, then I will have happiness and life and all the people I love will have it too.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He travelled far, far away and finally found the holy flame, with which he lit his light. On his way back he had only one worry: 'That his light could go out.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his way home he met someone who was freezing and didn't have any fire and who begged him to give him some of his fire. The man with the light hesitated for a moment. Wasn't his light too precious, too holy to be given away for something ordinary like that? Despite these doubts, he decided to give some of his light to the one who was freezing in the darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man continued his journey home and when he had almost reached his house a terrible thunderstorm started. He tried to protect his light from the rain and the storm, but at the end his light went out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To return the long way back to the place where the holy flame was burning was impossible, he wouldn't have had enough strength to go back this far - but he was strong enough to return to the human being whom he had helped on his way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........and with his light he could light his own again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blätter, die uns durch das Jahr begleiten; Barbara and Hans Hug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-6429187297096278755?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/6429187297096278755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=6429187297096278755&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6429187297096278755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6429187297096278755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/10/given-light.html' title='The Given Light'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-1516526858437873391</id><published>2006-09-30T23:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T14:46:46.335+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning'/><title type='text'>The Seven Wonders of the World</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Junior high school students were studying the Seven Wonders of the World. At the end of the lesson, the students were asked to list what they considered to be the Seven Wonders of the World. Though there was some disagreement, the following received the most votes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Egypt's Great Pyramids&lt;br /&gt;2. The Taj Mahal in India&lt;br /&gt;3. The Grand Canyon in Arizona&lt;br /&gt;4. The Panama Canal&lt;br /&gt;5. The Empire State Building&lt;br /&gt;6. St. Peter's Basilica&lt;br /&gt;7. China's Great Wall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student, a quiet girl, hadn't turned in her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list. The quiet girl replied, "Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many." The teacher said, "Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl hesitated, then read, "I think the Seven Wonders of the World are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. to touch...&lt;br /&gt;2. to taste...&lt;br /&gt;3. to see...&lt;br /&gt;4. to hear...  (She hesitated a little, and then added...)&lt;br /&gt;5. to feel...&lt;br /&gt;6. to laugh...&lt;br /&gt;7. and to love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May this story serve as a gentle reminder to all of us that the things we overlook as simple and ordinary are often the most wonderful - and we don't have to travel anywhere special to experience them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your gifts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-1516526858437873391?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/1516526858437873391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=1516526858437873391&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/1516526858437873391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/1516526858437873391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/seven-wonders-of-world.html' title='The Seven Wonders of the World'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-1499480846940097456</id><published>2006-09-25T17:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T14:47:07.878+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>Horse-Sense</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it.  From a distance, each looks like every other horse.  But if one stops the car, or is walking by, one will notice something quite amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind.  His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.  This alone is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening, one will hear the sound of a bell.  Looking around for the source of the sound, one will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.  Attached to her bridle is a small bell.  It lets her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As one stands and watches these two friends, one sees how she is always checking on him, and that he will listen for her bell and then slowly walk to where she is, trusting that she will not lead him astray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by God and those whom he places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others see God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-1499480846940097456?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/1499480846940097456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=1499480846940097456&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/1499480846940097456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/1499480846940097456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/horse-sense.html' title='Horse-Sense'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-6071359405292465781</id><published>2006-09-22T14:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T14:47:26.894+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Option'/><title type='text'>The Eagle and the Wolf</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There is a great battle that rages inside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One side is the soaring eagle. Everything the eagle stands for is good and true and beautiful, and it soars above the clouds. Even though it dips down into the valleys, it lays its eggs on the mountaintops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other side of me is the howling wolf. And that raging, howling wolf represents the worst that's in me. He eats upon my downfalls and justifies himself by his presence in the pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who wins this great battle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one I feed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-6071359405292465781?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/6071359405292465781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=6071359405292465781&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6071359405292465781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/6071359405292465781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/eagle-and-wolf.html' title='The Eagle and the Wolf'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-5370779822526225036</id><published>2006-09-20T23:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T23:37:25.589+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>The Perfect Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A friend asked a gentleman how it is that he never married ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Replied the gentleman, "Well, I guess I just never met the right woman ... I guess I've been looking for the perfect girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, come on now," said the friend, "Surely you have met at least one girl that you wanted to marry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, there was one girl .. once. I guess she was the one perfect girl .. the only perfect girl I really ever met. She was just the right everything .. I really mean that she was the perfect girl for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, why didn't you marry her," asked the friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She was looking for the perfect man," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-5370779822526225036?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/5370779822526225036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=5370779822526225036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/5370779822526225036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/5370779822526225036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/perfect-girl.html' title='The Perfect Girl'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115869145425782617</id><published>2006-09-19T20:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T20:44:14.270+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fear'/><title type='text'>The Scary Storm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A little girl walked daily to and from school. Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were forming, she made her daily trip to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with thunder and lightning. The mother of the little girl felt concerned that her daughter would be frightened as she walked home from school, and she herself feared that the electrical storm might harm her child. Following the roar of thunder, lightning, like a flaming sword would cut through the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Full of concern, the mother quickly got in her car and drove along the route to her child's school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she did so, she saw her little girl walking along, but at each flash of lightning, the child would stop, look up and smile. Another and another were to follow quickly, each with the little girl stopping, looking up and smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the mother called over to her child and asked, "what are you doing?" The child answered, "smiling, God just keeps taking pictures of me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115869145425782617?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115869145425782617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115869145425782617&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115869145425782617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115869145425782617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/scary-storm.html' title='The Scary Storm'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115844865241511055</id><published>2006-09-17T01:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T01:17:32.426+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>The Lesson of the Homeless Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was a cold winter's day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car fellow church members were whispering among themselves as they walked in the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church. He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trench coat that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you could not see his face. He wore shoes that looked 30 years old, too small for his feet, with holes all over them, his toes stuck out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by through the doors of the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all fellowshipped for a few minutes, and someone brought up the man laying outside. People snickered and gossiped but no one bothered to ask him to come in, including me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few moments later church began. We all waited for the Preacher to take his place and to give us the Word, when the doors to the church opened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In came the homeless man walking down the aisle with his head down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People gasped and whispered and made faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He made his way down the aisle and up onto the pulpit where he took off his hat and coat. My heart sank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There stood our preacher...he was the "homeless man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one said a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The preacher took his Bible and laid it on his stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Folks, I don't think I have to tell you what I am preaching about today. If you judge people, you have no time to love them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115844865241511055?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115844865241511055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115844865241511055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115844865241511055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115844865241511055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/lesson-of-homeless-man.html' title='The Lesson of the Homeless Man'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115832965114628121</id><published>2006-09-15T16:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T16:14:11.146+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Compassion'/><title type='text'>Big Feet and Big Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was an unseasonably hot day. Everybody it seemed, was looking for some kind of relief, so an ice cream store was a natural place to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little girl, clutching her money tightly, entered the store. Before she could say a word, the store clerk sharply told her to get outside and read the sign on the door, and stay out until she put on some shoes. She left slowly, and a big man followed her out of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He watched as she stood in front of the store and read the sign: 'No Bare Feet'. Tears started rolling down her cheeks as she turned and started to walked away. Just then the big man called to her. Sitting down on the curb, he took off his size-12 shoes, and set them in front of the girl saying, "Here, you won't be able to walk in these, but if you sort of slide along, you can get your ice cream cone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he lifted the little girl up and set her feet into the shoes. "Take your time," he said, "I get tired of moving them around, and it'll feel good to just sit here and eat my ice cream." The shining eyes of the little girl could not be missed as she shuffled up to the counter and ordered her ice cream cone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was a big man, all right. Big belly, big shoes, but most of all, he had a big heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115832965114628121?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115832965114628121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115832965114628121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115832965114628121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115832965114628121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/big-feet-and-big-heart.html' title='Big Feet and Big Heart'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115822387817664386</id><published>2006-09-14T10:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T10:51:18.190+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dark Candle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A man had a little daughter -- an only and much-beloved child. He lived for her -- she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts of the best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His best efforts proved unavailing and the child died. The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from his many friends and refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self. But one night he had a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was in Heaven, and was witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed angelic child carried a candle. He noticed that one child's candle was not lighted. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl. Rushing to her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and then asked: "How is it, darling that your candle alone is unlighted?" "Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then he awoke from his dream. The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate. From that hour on he was not a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates. No longer would his darling's candle be extinguished by his useless tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115822387817664386?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115822387817664386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115822387817664386&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115822387817664386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115822387817664386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/dark-candle.html' title='The Dark Candle'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115813333267468547</id><published>2006-09-13T09:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T09:42:12.686+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning'/><title type='text'>Samurai Lesson</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A huge, rough samurai once went to see a little monk, hoping to acquire the secrets of the universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Monk," he said, in a voice accustomed to instant obedience. "teach me about heaven and hell."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little monk looked up at the mighty warrior in silence. Then, after a moment, he said to the samurai with utter disdain, "Teach YOU about heaven and hell? I couldn't teach you about anything. You're dirty. You smell. Your blade is rusty. you're a disgrace, an embarrassment to the samurai class. Get out of my sight at once. I can't stand you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The samurai was furious. He began to shake all over from the anger that raced through him. A red flush spread over his face; he was speechless with rage. Quickly, menacingly, he pulled out his sword and raised it above his head, preparing to slay the monk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's hell." said the little monk quietly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The samurai was overwhelmed. Stunned. The compassion and surrender of this little man who had offered his life to give this teaching about hell! He slowly lowered his sword, filled with gratitude, and for reasons he could not explain his heart became suddenly peaceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And that's heaven," said the monk softly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115813333267468547?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115813333267468547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115813333267468547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115813333267468547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115813333267468547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/samurai-lesson.html' title='Samurai Lesson'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115805346138837657</id><published>2006-09-12T11:29:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T11:31:01.400+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parents'/><title type='text'>Dads Blessings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A young man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had purchased the car.  Finally, on the morning of his graduation, his father called  him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautifully wrapped gift box.  Curious, but somewhat disappointed, the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible, with the young man's name embossed in gold. Angry, he raised his voice to his father and said "With all your money, you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and  wonderful family, but realized his father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go  to  him.  He had not seen him since that graduation day.  Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and take care of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart.  He began to search through his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it  years ago.  With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages.  And as he did, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible.  It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words PAID IN FULL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times do we miss Spirit's blessings and answers to our prayers  because they do not arrive exactly as we have expected?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115805346138837657?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115805346138837657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115805346138837657&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115805346138837657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115805346138837657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/dads-blessings.html' title='Dads Blessings'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115791679155736863</id><published>2006-09-10T21:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-10T21:33:11.570+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Compassion'/><title type='text'>Puppies for Sale</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure," said the farmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that he let out a whistle,"Here,Dolly!" he called.&lt;br /&gt;Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The world is full of people who need someone who understands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115791679155736863?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115791679155736863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115791679155736863&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115791679155736863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115791679155736863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/puppies-for-sale.html' title='Puppies for Sale'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115779264429888369</id><published>2006-09-09T10:46:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T11:04:04.310+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Roses of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've dreamed many dreams that never came true.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen them vanish at dawn.&lt;br /&gt;But I've realized enough of my dreams, Thank God,&lt;br /&gt;To make me want to dream on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've prayed many prayers, when no answers came,&lt;br /&gt;Though I waited patient and long,&lt;br /&gt;But answers came to enough of my prayers&lt;br /&gt;To make me keep praying on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've trusted many a friend that failed&lt;br /&gt;And left me to weep alone,&lt;br /&gt;But I've found enough of my friends true blue&lt;br /&gt;To make me keep trusting on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've sown many seeds that fell by the way&lt;br /&gt;For the birds to feed upon,&lt;br /&gt;But I have held enough golden sheaves in my hands&lt;br /&gt;To make me keep sowing on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain&lt;br /&gt;And gone many days without song,&lt;br /&gt;But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life&lt;br /&gt;To make me want to live on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115779264429888369?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115779264429888369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115779264429888369&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115779264429888369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115779264429888369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/roses-of-life.html' title='Roses of Life'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115765476936788103</id><published>2006-09-07T20:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T20:46:09.380+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>Always Remember Those who Serve</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How much is an ice cream sundae?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115765476936788103?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115765476936788103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115765476936788103&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115765476936788103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115765476936788103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/always-remember-those-who-serve.html' title='Always Remember Those who Serve'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115754411193913612</id><published>2006-09-06T13:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T14:01:51.963+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friendship'/><title type='text'>Portrait of a Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I can't give solutions to all of life's problems, doubts, or fears.&lt;br /&gt;But I can listen to you, and together we can seek answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't change your past with all it's heartache and pain, nor the future with it's untold stories.&lt;br /&gt;But I can be there now when you need me to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't keep your feet from stumbling.&lt;br /&gt;I can only offer my hand that you may grasp it and not fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your joys, triumphs, successes, and happinesses are not mine;&lt;br /&gt;Yet I can share in your laughter and joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your decisions in life are not mine to make, nor to judge;&lt;br /&gt;I can only support you, encourage you, and help you when you ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't give you boundaries which I have determined for you,&lt;br /&gt;But I can give you the room to change, room to grow, room to be yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't keep your heart from breaking and hurting,&lt;br /&gt;But I can cry with you and help you pick up the piece and put them back in place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you who you are.&lt;br /&gt;I can only love you and be your friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115754411193913612?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115754411193913612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115754411193913612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115754411193913612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115754411193913612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/09/portrait-of-friend.html' title='Portrait of a Friend'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115158227233035507</id><published>2006-06-29T13:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T21:39:08.646+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;due to my summer vacation&lt;br /&gt;I would like to inform you.. my friends..&lt;br /&gt;that I'm going to take on a &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;hiatus&lt;/span&gt; for a while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I wish you all a good and blessed moment wherever you are..&lt;br /&gt;CU later ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115158227233035507?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115158227233035507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115158227233035507&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115158227233035507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115158227233035507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/due-to-my-summer-vacation-i-would-like.html' title=''/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115157596319296982</id><published>2006-06-29T11:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T13:53:55.790+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happiness'/><title type='text'>Be Happy Now!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we're frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that, we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We'll certainly be happy when they're out of that stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred D. Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, or a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time with... and remember that time waits for no one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, stop waiting ... until you finish school, until you go back to school, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until fall, until winter, until you're off welfare, until the first or fifteenth, until your song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up, until you die, until you're born again to decide that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no better time than right now to be happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Alfred D. Souza, Source Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115157596319296982?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115157596319296982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115157596319296982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115157596319296982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115157596319296982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/be-happy-now.html' title='Be Happy Now!'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115143496973625421</id><published>2006-06-27T21:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T21:02:49.766+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning'/><title type='text'>A Samurai and a Zen Master</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A samurai, a very proud warrior, came to see a Zen Master one day. The samurai was very famous, but looking at the beauty of the Master and the Grace of the moment, he suddenly felt inferior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said to the Master, "Why am I feeling inferior? Just a moment ago everything was okay. As I entered your court suddenly I felt inferior. I have never felt like that before. I have faced death many times, and I have never felt any fear -- why am I now feeling frightened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Master said, "Wait. When everyone else has gone, I will answer. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People continued the whole day to come and see the Master, and the samurai was getting more and more tired waiting. By evening the room was empty, and the samurai said, "Now, can you answer me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Master said, "Come outside."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a full moon night, the moon was just rising on the horizen. And he said, "Look at these trees. This tree is high in the sky and this small one beside it. They both have existed beside my window for years, and there has never been any problem. The smaller tree has never said to the big tree, 'Why do I feel inferior before you?' This tree is small, and that tree is big -- why have I never heard a whisper of it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The samurai said, "Because they can't compare."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Master replied, "Then you need not ask me. You know the answer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115143496973625421?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115143496973625421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115143496973625421&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115143496973625421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115143496973625421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/samurai-and-zen-master.html' title='A Samurai and a Zen Master'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115134890183260560</id><published>2006-06-26T20:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T21:08:22.056+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truth'/><title type='text'>Essence of Tact</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A Sultan called in one of his seers and asked how long he would live. "Sire," said the seer, "you would live to see all your sons dead." The sultan flew into a rage and handed the prophet over to his guards for execution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then called for a second seer, and asked him the same question. "Sire," said the prophet, "I see you bleessed with long life, so long that you will outlive all your family." The sultan was delighted and rewarded this seer with gold and silver jewelry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both prophets knew the truth, but one had tact, the other did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Brian Cavanaugh, T.O.R., The Sower's Seeds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115134890183260560?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115134890183260560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115134890183260560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115134890183260560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115134890183260560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/essence-of-tact.html' title='Essence of Tact'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115097932807854926</id><published>2006-06-22T14:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T14:28:48.080+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>Monkey's Trap</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;An interesting system has been used for capturing monkeys in the jungles of Africa. The goal is to take the monkeys alive and unharmed for shipment to zoos of America. In an extremely humane way, the captors use heavy bottles, with long narrow necks, into which they deposit a handful of sweet-smelling nuts. The bottles are dropped on the jungle floor, and the captors return the next morning to find a monkey trapped next to each bottle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it accomplished? The monkey, attracted by the aromatic scent of the nuts, comes to investigate the bottle, the nuts, and is trapped. The monkey can't take its hand out of the bottle as long it's holding the nuts, but it is unwilling to open its hand and let them go. The bottle is too heavy to carry away, so the monkey is trapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We may smile at the foolish monkeys, but how often we hold to our problems so tenaciously as the monkeys hold to the nuts in the bottle. And so, figuratively we carry our bottle around with us, feeling very sorry for ourselves, and begging for sympathy from others, even from God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eric Butterworth, The Universe is Calling &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115097932807854926?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115097932807854926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115097932807854926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115097932807854926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115097932807854926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/monkeys-trap.html' title='Monkey&apos;s Trap'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115072674325799042</id><published>2006-06-19T16:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T16:22:29.933+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parents'/><title type='text'>What Makes A Dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;God took the strength of a mountain, The majesty of a tree,&lt;br /&gt;The warmth of a summer sun, The calm of a quiet sea,&lt;br /&gt;The generous soul of nature, The comforting arm of night,&lt;br /&gt;The wisdom of the ages, The power of the eagle's flight,&lt;br /&gt;The joy of a morning in spring, The faith of a mustard seed,&lt;br /&gt;The patience of eternity, The depth of a family need,&lt;br /&gt;Then God combined these qualities, When there was nothing more to add,&lt;br /&gt;He knew His masterpiece was complete,&lt;br /&gt;And so, He called it ... Dad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a DADDY!&lt;br /&gt;Happy Father's Day to all the Daddys in the World!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115072674325799042?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115072674325799042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115072674325799042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115072674325799042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115072674325799042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/what-makes-dad.html' title='What Makes A Dad'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115063730507516740</id><published>2006-06-18T15:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T15:28:25.086+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>The Whole World Stinks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wise men and philosophers throughout the ages have disagreed on many things, but many are in unanimous agreement on one point: "We become what we think about." Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "A man is what he thinks about all day long." The Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius put it this way: "A man's life is what his thoughts make of it." In the Bible we find: "As a man thinks in his heart, so is he."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Sunday afternoon, a cranky grandfather was visiting his family. As he lay down to take a nap, his grandson decided to have a little fun by putting Limburger cheese on Grandfather's mustache. Soon, grandpa awoke with a snort and charged out of the bedroom saying, "This room stinks." Through the house he went, finding every room smelling the same. Desperately he made his way outside only to find that "the whole world stinks!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is when we fill our minds with negativism. Everything we experience and everybody we encounter will carry the scent we hold in our mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115063730507516740?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115063730507516740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115063730507516740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115063730507516740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115063730507516740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/whole-world-stinks.html' title='The Whole World Stinks'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115053743649069322</id><published>2006-06-17T11:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T11:43:56.500+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning'/><title type='text'>Prayer Methods</title><content type='html'>The disciple asks his master, " What can I do to attain God?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The master answers by asking, "What can you do to make the sun rise?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The disciple says indignantly, "Then why are you giving us all these methods of prayer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the master replies, "To make sure you're awake when the sun rises."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Brian Cavanaugh, T.O.R., The Sower's Seeds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115053743649069322?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115053743649069322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115053743649069322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115053743649069322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115053743649069322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/prayer-methods.html' title='Prayer Methods'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115036429128689625</id><published>2006-06-15T11:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T11:38:11.300+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Football in heaven?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Two friends Rob and Paul were two of the biggest football fans in England.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their entire adult lives, Rob and Paul discussed football history, and they pored over all the statistics. They went to all of the matches. They even agreed that whoever died first would try to come back and tell the other if there was football in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One summer night, Rob passed away in his sleep after watching a Manchester United victory earlier in the evening. He died happy. A few nights later, his buddy Paul awoke to the sound of Rob's voice from beyond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Rob, is that you?" Paul asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course it me," Rob replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is unbelievable!" Paul exclaimed. "So tell me, is there football in heaven?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you. Which do you want to hear first?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tell me the good news first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, the good news is that yes there's football in heaven, Paul."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that is wonderful! So what could possibly be the bad news?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're playing tomorrow night!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author : Unknown, &lt;a href="http://www.footballhumour.com/joke.php?id=331&amp;listtype=1&amp;amp;catid="&gt;Football Humour&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115036429128689625?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115036429128689625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115036429128689625&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115036429128689625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115036429128689625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/football-in-heaven.html' title='Football in heaven?'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115028464149103431</id><published>2006-06-14T13:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T13:30:41.503+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>The Optimist</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There is a story of identical twins. One was a hope-filled optimist. "Everything is coming up roses!" he would say. The other twin was a sad and hopeless pessimist. He thought that Murphy, as in Murphy's Law, was an optimist. The worried parents of the boys brought them to the local psychologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He suggested to the parents a plan to balance the twins" personalities. "On their next birthday, put them in separate rooms to open their gifts. Give the pessimist the best toys you can afford, and give the optimist a box of manure." The parents followed these instructions and carefully observed the results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they peeked in on the pessimist, they heard him audibly complaining, "I don't like the color of this computer . . I'll bet this calculator will break . . . I don't like the game . . . I know someone who's got a bigger toy car than this . . ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiptoeing across the corridor, the parents peeked in and saw their little optimist gleefully throwing the manure up in the air. He was giggling. "You can't fool me! Where there's this much manure, there's gotta be a pony!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author Unknown, More Sower's Seeds &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115028464149103431?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115028464149103431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115028464149103431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115028464149103431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115028464149103431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/optimist.html' title='The Optimist'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115019493621338864</id><published>2006-06-13T12:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T12:35:36.236+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Prejudice</title><content type='html'>"Nothing is good or bad, but thinking makes it so," the Master said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When asked to explain he said, "A man cheerfully observed a religious fast seven days a week. His neighbor starved to death on the same diet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anthony de Mello, SJ, Source Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115019493621338864?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115019493621338864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115019493621338864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115019493621338864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115019493621338864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/prejudice.html' title='Prejudice'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-115011276598275171</id><published>2006-06-12T13:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T17:27:55.033+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Moso Bamboo Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mrbamboo.com.au/Running_Bamboo/moso/body_moso.html"&gt;The moso&lt;/a&gt; is a bamboo plant that grows in China and the far east. After the moso is planted, no visible growth occurs for up to five years - event under ideal conditions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as if by magic, it suddenly begins growing at the rate of nearly two and one half feet per day, reaching a full height of ninety feet within six weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's not magic. The moso's rapid growth is due to the miles of roots it develops during those first five years, five years of getting ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Joel Weldon, The Sower's Seeds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-115011276598275171?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/115011276598275171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=115011276598275171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115011276598275171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/115011276598275171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/moso-bamboo-tree.html' title='The Moso Bamboo Tree'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114985455577128208</id><published>2006-06-09T13:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T14:02:35.773+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mental Chain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Most people are like the circus elephant. Have you ever seen a giant elephant in an indoor arena tied to a little wooden stake. That huge creature can pick up two thousand pounds with its trunk, yet it calmly stays tied. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When that elephant was just a baby, and not very strong, it was tied by a huge chain to an iron stake that could not be moved. Regardless of how hard it tried, it could not break the chain and run free. After it a while it just gave up. Later, when it is strong, it never attempts to break free. The "imprint" is permanent. "I can't! I can't!' it says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are millions of people who behave like this creature of the circus. They have been bound, tied and told "You'll never make it," so many times they finally call it quits. The may have dreams, but the "imprinting" keeps pulling them back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, eliminate the source of your limitations. When you mentally break free, the boundaries will be removed from your future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Neil Eskelin, Source Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114985455577128208?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114985455577128208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114985455577128208&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114985455577128208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114985455577128208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/mental-chain.html' title='The Mental Chain'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114976339781023940</id><published>2006-06-08T12:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T12:43:17.820+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>Blurred Vision</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A businessman was highly critical of his competitors' storefront windows. "Why, they are the dirtiest windows in town," he claimed. Fellow business people grew tired of the man's continual criticism and nitpicking comments about the windows. One day over coffee, the businessman carried the subject just too far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before leaving, a fellow store owner suggested the man get his own windows washed. He followed the advice, and the next day at coffee, he exclaimed, "I can't believe it. As soon as I washed my windows, my competitor must have cleaned his too. You should see them shine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confucius once declared:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Don't complain about the snow on your neighbor's roof&lt;br /&gt;when your own doorstep is unclean."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114976339781023940?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114976339781023940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114976339781023940&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114976339781023940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114976339781023940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/blurred-vision.html' title='Blurred Vision'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114968519189233650</id><published>2006-06-07T14:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T14:59:51.923+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Now and Beyond</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On the day after Jack Benny's death in December, 1974, a single long stemmed red rose was delivered to Mary Livingstone Benny, his wife of 48 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the blossoms continued to arrive, day after day, Mary called the florist to find out who sent them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quite a while before Jack passed away," the florist told her, "He stopped in to send a bouquet. As he was leaving, he suddenly turned back and said, "If anything should happen to me, I want you to send Mary a single rose every day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was complete silence on Mary's end of the line, then weeping, she said, "Goodbye." Subsequently, Mary learned that Jack had actually included a provision for the flowers in his will, one perfect red rose daily for the rest of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114968519189233650?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114968519189233650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114968519189233650&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114968519189233650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114968519189233650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/now-and-beyond.html' title='Now and Beyond'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114959355721671425</id><published>2006-06-06T13:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T13:32:37.226+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Teacher's Influence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A woman attended her 20-year high school reunion. There she encountered her freshman year art teacher. She told him that she decided to go to college as a result of his inspiration, and that she was an art professor, now, at a large state university.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the evening's festivities, the teacher searched out his former student, shook her hand and said, "Thank you for saying those nice things about my teaching. You've really made my day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're welcome," said the woman as she hugged him, "But let me thank you--you've made my life!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author Unknown, Preacher's Illustration Service, # 969&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114959355721671425?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114959355721671425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114959355721671425&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114959355721671425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114959355721671425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/teachers-influence.html' title='A Teacher&apos;s Influence'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114952155429119139</id><published>2006-06-05T17:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T20:28:13.053+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>The Limits of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After the divorce, her teenage daughter became increasingly rebellious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It culminated late one night when the police called to tell her that she had to come to the police station to pick up her daughter, who was arrested for drunk driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They didn't speak until the next afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom broke the tension by giving her daughter a small gift-wrapped box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her daughter nonchalantly opened it and found a small piece of a rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rolled her eyes and said, "Cute Mom, what's this for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's the card," Mom said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her daughter took the card out of the envelope and read it. Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got up and gave her mom a big hug as the card fell to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the card were these words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This rock is more than 200 million years old.&lt;br /&gt;That's how long it will take before I give up on you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114952155429119139?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114952155429119139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114952155429119139&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114952155429119139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114952155429119139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/limits-of-love.html' title='The Limits of Love'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114941578538176983</id><published>2006-06-04T12:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T12:09:45.390+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking the Silence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"How did you do it, Dad? How have you managed to not take a drink for almost 20 years?" It took me almost 20 years to have the courage to even ask my father this very personal question. When Dad first quit drinking, the whole family was on pins and needles every time he got into a situation that, in the past, would have started him drinking again. For a few years we were afraid to bring it up for fear the drinking would begin again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I had this little poem that I would recite to myself at least four to five times a day," was Dad's reply to my 18-year-old unasked question. "The words were an instant relief and constant reminder to me that things were never so tough that I could not handle them," Dad said. And then he shared the poem with me. The poem's simple, yet profound words immediately became part of my daily routine as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a month after this talk with my father, I received a gift in the mail from a friend of mine. It was a book of daily affirmations with one affirmation listed for each day of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been my experience that when you get something with days of the year on it, you automatically turn to the page that lists your own birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurriedly opened the book to November 10 to see what words of wisdom this book had in store for me. I did a double-take and tears of disbelief and appreciation rolled down my face. There, on my birthday, was the exact same poem that had helped my father for all these years! It is called the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Serenity Prayer &lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change;&lt;br /&gt;the Courage to change the things I can;&lt;br /&gt;and the Wisdom to know the difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Barry Spilchuk, A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114941578538176983?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114941578538176983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114941578538176983&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114941578538176983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114941578538176983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/breaking-silence.html' title='Breaking the Silence'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114924371308569043</id><published>2006-06-02T12:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T12:21:53.096+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning'/><title type='text'>Learn from Mistakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Thomas Edison tried two thousand different materials in search of a filament for the light bulb. When none worked satisfactorily, his assistant complained, "All our work is in vain. We have learned nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edison replied very confidently, "Oh, we have come a long way and we have learned a lot. We now that there are two thousand elements which we cannot use to make a good light bulb."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114924371308569043?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114924371308569043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114924371308569043&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114924371308569043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114924371308569043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/06/learn-from-mistakes.html' title='Learn from Mistakes'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114907740821602110</id><published>2006-05-31T14:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T14:10:08.230+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Man Who Had Plenty</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once there was a family that was not rich and not poor. They lived in Ohio in a small country house. One night they all sat down for dinner, and there was a knock at the door. The father went to the door and opened it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There stood an old man in tattered clothes, with ripped pants and missing buttons. He was carrying a basket full of vegetables. He asked the family if they wanted to buy some vegetables from him. They quickly did because they wanted him to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over time, the family and the old man became friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man brought vegetables to the family every week. They soon found out that he was almost blind and had cataracts on his eyes. But he was so friendly that they learned to look forward to his visits and started to enjoy his company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day as he was delivering the vegetables, he said, "I had the greatest blessing yesterday! I found a basket of clothes outside my house that someone had left for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The family, knowing that he needed clothes, said, "How wonderful!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old blind man said, "The most wonderful part is that I found a family that really needed the clothes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jerry Ullman, Chicken Soup for the Kid's Soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114907740821602110?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114907740821602110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114907740821602110&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114907740821602110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114907740821602110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/man-who-had-plenty.html' title='The Man Who Had Plenty'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114898503023738220</id><published>2006-05-30T12:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T12:34:36.800+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>Know, There is a Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When darkness comes and fear fills your heart,&lt;br /&gt;Know, there is a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all your dreams come crashing down,&lt;br /&gt;Know, there is a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When friends cannot be found and&lt;br /&gt;there is No one to comfort you,&lt;br /&gt;Know, there is a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are ready to lay down and quit,&lt;br /&gt;Know, there is a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To know is to find the way.&lt;br /&gt;Knowing cannot be found out there.&lt;br /&gt;Knowing is found in the silence&lt;br /&gt;Of surrender within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way is within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;John McIntosh and Rev. JoAnn (Ananda) Polito, &lt;a href="http://www.innerguidance.com/"&gt;Today's "Inner Guidance" Inspiration&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114898503023738220?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114898503023738220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114898503023738220&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114898503023738220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114898503023738220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/know-there-is-way.html' title='Know, There is a Way'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114884212437481843</id><published>2006-05-28T20:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T20:48:44.376+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Always There</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hello God, I called tonight&lt;br /&gt;To talk a little while&lt;br /&gt;I need a friend who'll listen&lt;br /&gt;To my anxiety and trial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I can't quite make it&lt;br /&gt;Through a day just on my own...&lt;br /&gt;I need your love to guide me,&lt;br /&gt;So I'll never feel alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to ask you please to keep,&lt;br /&gt;My family safe and sound.&lt;br /&gt;Come and fill their lives with confidence&lt;br /&gt;For whatever fate they're bound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me faith, dear God, to face&lt;br /&gt;Each hour throughout the day,&lt;br /&gt;And not to worry over things&lt;br /&gt;I can't change in any way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank you God, for being home&lt;br /&gt;And listening to my call,&lt;br /&gt;For giving me such good advice&lt;br /&gt;When I stumble and fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your number, God, is the only one&lt;br /&gt;That answers every time.&lt;br /&gt;I never get a busy signal,&lt;br /&gt;Never had to pay a dime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thank you, God, for listening&lt;br /&gt;To my troubles and my sorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Good night, God, I love You, too,&lt;br /&gt;And I'll call again tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114884212437481843?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114884212437481843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114884212437481843&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114884212437481843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114884212437481843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/always-there.html' title='Always There'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114872280076988299</id><published>2006-05-27T11:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T11:40:00.780+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Compassion'/><title type='text'>A Lesson from Kobe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;During the devastating earthquakes in Kobe, Japan, an American newscaster did a short piece on a Japanese woman who set up a makeshift store out of boxes selling flashlights and batteries. When the commentor asked why she wasn't selling these essential items for more than the regular price, the woman answered, "Why would I want to profit from someone else's suffering?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114872280076988299?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114872280076988299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114872280076988299&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114872280076988299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114872280076988299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/lesson-from-kobe.html' title='A Lesson from Kobe'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114864027710572496</id><published>2006-05-26T12:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T12:46:41.666+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Days We Should Not Worry</title><content type='html'>There are two days in every week about which we should not worry,&lt;br /&gt; two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these days is Yesterday with all its mistakes and cares,&lt;br /&gt; its faults and blunders, its aches and pains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control.&lt;br /&gt; All the money in the world cannot bring back Yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cannot undo a single act we performed;&lt;br /&gt; we cannot erase a single word we said.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday is gone forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day we should not worry about is Tomorrow&lt;br /&gt; with all its possible adversities, its burdens,&lt;br /&gt;its large promise and its poor performance;&lt;br /&gt; Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow's sun will rise,&lt;br /&gt; either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise.&lt;br /&gt;Until it does, we have no stake in Tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt; for it is yet to be born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This leaves only one day, Today.&lt;br /&gt; Any person can fight the battle of just one day.&lt;br /&gt;It is when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternities&lt;br /&gt; Yesterday and Tomorrow that we break down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not the experience of Today that drives a person mad,&lt;br /&gt; it is the remorse or bitterness of something which happened Yesterday&lt;br /&gt;and the dread of what Tomorrow may bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Let us, therefore, Live but one day at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114864027710572496?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114864027710572496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114864027710572496&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114864027710572496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114864027710572496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/two-days-we-should-not-worry.html' title='Two Days We Should Not Worry'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114856073438070491</id><published>2006-05-25T14:37:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T14:38:54.396+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Two Bags</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Every man, according to an ancient legend, is born into the world with two bags suspended from his neck all bag in front full of his neighbors' faults, and a large bag behind filled with his own faults. Hence it is that men are quick to see the faults of others, and yet are often blind to their own failings.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114856073438070491?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114856073438070491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114856073438070491&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114856073438070491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114856073438070491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/two-bags.html' title='The Two Bags'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114848343612932122</id><published>2006-05-24T16:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T17:15:43.450+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Power of One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;One&lt;/span&gt; song can spark a moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One flower can wake the dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One tree can start a forest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One bird can herald spring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One smile begins a friendship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One handclasp lifts a soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One star can guide a ship at sea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One word can frame the goal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One vote can change a nation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One sunbeam lights a room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One candle wipes out darkness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One laugh will conquer gloom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One step must start each journey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One word must start a prayer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One hope will raise our spirits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One touch can show you care&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One voice can speak with wisdom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One heart can know what is true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Life can make a difference&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114848343612932122?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114848343612932122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114848343612932122&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114848343612932122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114848343612932122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/power-of-one.html' title='The Power of One'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114837954422518232</id><published>2006-05-23T12:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T12:19:04.240+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Grateful</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the door of happiness closes, another opens, but often times we look so long at the closed door that we don't see the one which has been opened for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't go for looks; they can deceive. Don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trails to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to bring you joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always put yourself in another's shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past, you can't get on well in life until you let go of past failures and heartaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Peter Gerhard, Source Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114837954422518232?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114837954422518232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114837954422518232&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114837954422518232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114837954422518232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/be-grateful.html' title='Be Grateful'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114829974496042155</id><published>2006-05-22T14:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-22T14:09:05.826+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Give Up!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There was this museum laid with beautiful marble tiles, with a huge marble statue displayed in the middle of the lobby. Many people came from all over the world just to admire this beautiful marble statue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, the marble tiles started talking to the marble statue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble tile: "Marble statue, it's just not fair, it's just not fair! why does everybody from all over the world come all the way here just to step on me while admiring you? Not fair!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble statue: "My dear friend, marble tile. Do you still remember that we were actually from the same cave?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble tile: "Yeah! That's why I feel it is even more unfair. We were born from the same cave and yet we receive different treatment now. Not fair!" he cried again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble statue: "Then, do you still remember the day when the designer tried to work on you, but you resisted the tools?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble tile: "Yes, of course I remember. I hate that guy! How could he use those tools on me, it hurt so badly.".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble statue: "That's right! He couldn't work on you at all as you resisted being worked on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble tile: "So???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble statue: "When he decided to give up on you and start working on me instead, I knew at once that I would be something different after his efforts. I did not resist his tools, instead I bore all the painful tools he used on me.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble tile: "Mmmmmm......."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marble statue: "My friend, there is a price to everything in life. Since you decided to give up half way, you can't blame anybody who steps on you now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114829974496042155?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114829974496042155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114829974496042155&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114829974496042155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114829974496042155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/dont-give-up.html' title='Don&apos;t Give Up!'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114820511017545075</id><published>2006-05-21T11:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T11:51:50.186+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>Reflection of Psalm 23</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The lord is my programmer; I shall not crash.&lt;br /&gt;He installed his software on the hard disk of my heart;&lt;br /&gt;all of his commands are user-friendly.&lt;br /&gt;His directory guides me to the right choices for his name's sake.&lt;br /&gt;Even though I scroll through the problems of life,&lt;br /&gt;I will fear no bugs, for He is my backup.&lt;br /&gt;His password protects me.&lt;br /&gt;He prepares a menu before me in the presence of my enemies.&lt;br /&gt;His help is only a keystroke away.&lt;br /&gt;Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,&lt;br /&gt;and my file will be merged with his and saved forever.&lt;br /&gt;Amen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114820511017545075?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114820511017545075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114820511017545075&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114820511017545075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114820511017545075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/reflection-of-psalm-23.html' title='Reflection of Psalm 23'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114812748943876082</id><published>2006-05-20T14:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T14:18:09.446+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Awareness'/><title type='text'>If the World Was Blind</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If the world was blind,&lt;br /&gt;maybe then we'd see&lt;br /&gt;the true side of beauty,&lt;br /&gt;deep within you and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one could judge us&lt;br /&gt;by our outer looks,&lt;br /&gt;like the fancy covers&lt;br /&gt;on expensive books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'd see with our hearts,&lt;br /&gt;and not just our eyes,&lt;br /&gt;and what we'd discover&lt;br /&gt;might be a surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There would be no need&lt;br /&gt;to try to impress,&lt;br /&gt;with the way we look,&lt;br /&gt;or the way that we dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that would matter&lt;br /&gt;is the way we would feel,&lt;br /&gt;not phoney or cheap,&lt;br /&gt;but truthful and real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114812748943876082?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114812748943876082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114812748943876082&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114812748943876082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114812748943876082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/if-world-was-blind.html' title='If the World Was Blind'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114804104965178445</id><published>2006-05-19T14:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T14:17:29.663+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Responsability'/><title type='text'>That's Not My Job</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This's a story about four people: Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it but Nobody realised that Everybody wouldn't do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114804104965178445?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114804104965178445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114804104965178445&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114804104965178445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114804104965178445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/thats-not-my-job.html' title='That&apos;s Not My Job'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114796593930357525</id><published>2006-05-18T17:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T17:25:39.403+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Attitude'/><title type='text'>Anger</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At a turbulent public meeting once I lost my temper and said some harsh and sarcastic things. The proposal I was supporting was promptly defeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father who was there, said nothing, but that night, on my pillow I found a marked passage from Aristotle:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Anybody can become angry--that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way--that is not within everybody's power and is not easy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Arthur Gordon, Aspiring to Greatness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114796593930357525?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114796593930357525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114796593930357525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114796593930357525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114796593930357525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/anger.html' title='Anger'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114787654810249330</id><published>2006-05-17T16:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-17T16:35:48.216+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven and Hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A man spoke with the Lord about Heaven and Hell. "I will show you Hell," said the Lord. And they went into a room which had a large pot of stew in the middle. The smell was delicious and around the pot sat people who were famished and desperate. All were holding spoons with very long handless which reached to the pot, but because the handles of the spoons were longer than their arms, it was impossible to get the stew into their mouths. Their suffering was terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now I will show you Heaven," said the Lord, and they went into an identical room. There was a similar pot of stew and the people had the same identical spoons, but they were well nourished, talking and happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first the man did not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is simple," said the Lord. "You see, they have learned to feed each other."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;  Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114787654810249330?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114787654810249330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114787654810249330&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114787654810249330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114787654810249330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/heaven-and-hell.html' title='Heaven and Hell'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114778244132183029</id><published>2006-05-16T14:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T14:27:21.323+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep Quiet You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A police officer in a small town stopped a motorist who was speeding down Main Street. "But officer," the man began, "I can explain..." "Just be quiet," snapped the officer. "I'm going to let you cool your heels in jail until the chief gets back." "But, officer, I just wanted to say...," "And I said to keep quiet! You're going to jail!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few hours later the officer looked in on his prisoner and said, "Lucky for you that the chief's at his daughter's wedding. He'll be in a good mood when he gets back." "Don't count on it," answered the fellow in the cell. "I'm the groom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114778244132183029?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114778244132183029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114778244132183029&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114778244132183029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114778244132183029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/keep-quiet-you.html' title='Keep Quiet You!'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114769367392466997</id><published>2006-05-15T13:46:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T13:47:55.160+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humility'/><title type='text'>Need to Ask Others</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day a small boy was trying to lift a heavy stone, but he couldn't budge it. His father, passing by, stopped to watch his son's efforts. Finally he said to his son: "Are you using all your strength?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exasperated, the boy cried, "Yes, I am."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you're not," said the father calmly. "You haven't asked me to help you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Brian Cavanaugh, T.O.R., More Sower's Seeds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114769367392466997?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114769367392466997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114769367392466997&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114769367392466997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114769367392466997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/need-to-ask-others.html' title='Need to Ask Others'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114763866037707436</id><published>2006-05-14T22:29:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T22:31:00.383+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Greatness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"The trouble with the world," said the Master with a sigh, "is that human beings refuse to grow up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When can a person be said to have grown up?" asked a disciple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On the day he does not need to be lied to about anything." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anthony de Mello, SJ, One Minute Wisdom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114763866037707436?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114763866037707436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114763866037707436&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114763866037707436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114763866037707436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/greatness.html' title='Greatness'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114752238156385092</id><published>2006-05-13T14:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-13T14:13:01.570+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Responsability'/><title type='text'>Build a Better World</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Build a better world said God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I asked how?&lt;br /&gt;The world is such a vast place and so complicated now&lt;br /&gt;I am small and useless&lt;br /&gt;What can I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God in all His wisdom said, "Just build a better you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114752238156385092?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114752238156385092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114752238156385092&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114752238156385092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114752238156385092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/build-better-world.html' title='Build a Better World'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114746473564878807</id><published>2006-05-12T22:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T22:12:15.656+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Knock the "t" Off the The "Can't"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Recently I took a sheet of paper and divided it into two columns: "Yes People," and "No People." Then I thought about individuals I knew and wrote their names in the appropriate column. What a shock it was to see the length of the "No" list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These were the people who heard someone say, "You can't do that!" and they believed it. Now they were saying, "It can't be done!" and their negativity was affecting the lives of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your friends made such a list right now, under which heading would they write your name? Do they see you as enthusiastic, affirmative and optimistic? Or do they believe you see more problems than solutions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to knock the "t" off the "can't." I like the words of author Frank Hughes: "I will say this about being an optimist; even when things don't turn out well, you are certain they will get better."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are only a decision away from responding with hope instead of fear, with encouragement instead of criticism, with belief instead of despair. It's your choice! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Neil Eskelin, Daily Jump Start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114746473564878807?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114746473564878807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114746473564878807&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114746473564878807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114746473564878807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/knock-t-off-the-cant.html' title='Knock the &quot;t&quot; Off the The &quot;Can&apos;t&quot;'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114734335030754138</id><published>2006-05-11T12:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T12:29:10.320+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Philosophy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Before the visitor embarked upon discipleship, he wanted assurance from the Master.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you teach me the goal of human life?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I cannot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Or at least its meaning?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I cannot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you indicate to me the nature of death and of life beyond the grave?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I cannot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The visitor walked away in scorn. The disciples were dismayed that their Master had been shown up in a poor light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Said the Master soothingly, "Of what is it to comprehend life's nature and life's meaning if you have never tasted it? I'd rather you ate your pudding than speculated on it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anthony de Mello, SJ, One Minute Wisdom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114734335030754138?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114734335030754138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114734335030754138&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114734335030754138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114734335030754138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/philosophy.html' title='Philosophy'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114726945714896914</id><published>2006-05-10T15:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T15:57:37.163+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>The Little Boy Asks the Meaning of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;An eight-year-old boy approached an old man in front of a wishing well, looked up into his eyes, and asked:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I understand you're a very wise man. I'd like to know the secret of life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man looked down at the youngster and replied:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've thought a lot in my lifetime, and the secret can be summed up in four words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first is &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt;. Think about the values you wish to live your life by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second is &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt;. Believe in yourself based on the thinking you've done about the values you're going to live your life by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third is &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;. Dream about the things that can be, based on your belief in yourself and the values you're going to live by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last is &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;dare&lt;/span&gt;. Dare to make your dreams become reality, based on your belief in yourself and your values. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, Walter E. Disney said to the little boy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Think, Believe, Dream, and Dare.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author Unknown, A Quiet Place for the Mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114726945714896914?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114726945714896914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114726945714896914&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114726945714896914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114726945714896914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/little-boy-asks-meaning-of-life.html' title='The Little Boy Asks the Meaning of Life'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114716811824360569</id><published>2006-05-09T11:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T11:48:38.250+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once upon a time a very strong woodcutter ask for a job in a timber merchant, and he got it. The paid was really good and so were the work conditions. For that reason, the woodcutter was determined to do his best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His boss gave him an axe and showed him the area where he was supposed to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day, the woodcutter brought 18 trees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Congratulations," the boss said. "Go on that way!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very motivated for the boss’ words, the woodcutter try harder the next day, but he only could bring 15 trees. The third day he try even harder, but he only could bring 10 trees.Day after day he was bringing less and less trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I must be losing my strength", the woodcutter thought. He went to the boss and apologized, saying that he could not understand what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When was the last time you sharpened your axe?" the boss asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sharpen? I had no time to sharpen my axe. I have been very busy trying to cut trees..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stephen Covey, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114716811824360569?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114716811824360569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114716811824360569&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114716811824360569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114716811824360569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/busy.html' title='Busy'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114700392295403074</id><published>2006-05-07T14:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T14:12:02.960+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Obstacle in Our Path</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out of the way. Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. As the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many others never understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one's condition. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114700392295403074?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114700392295403074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114700392295403074&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114700392295403074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114700392295403074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/obstacle-in-our-path.html' title='The Obstacle in Our Path'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114694643770480225</id><published>2006-05-06T22:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T22:13:57.713+02:00</updated><title type='text'>How Poor We Are</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day a father and his rich family took his son to a trip to the country with the firm purpose to show him how poor people can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They spent a day and a night in the farm of a very poor family. When they got back from their trip the father asked his son, "How was the trip?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very good Dad!" "Did you see how poor people can be?" the father asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And what did you learn?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The son answered, "I saw that we have a dog at home, and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of the garden, they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lamps in the garden, they have the stars. Our patio reaches to the front yard, they have a whole horizon." When the little boy was finishing, his father was speechless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His son added, "Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114694643770480225?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114694643770480225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114694643770480225&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114694643770480225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114694643770480225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/how-poor-we-are.html' title='How Poor We Are'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114675087543577498</id><published>2006-05-04T15:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T15:55:18.036+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterfly</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives. If God allowed us to go through our lives without any obstacles, it would cripple us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We could never fly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I asked for Strength.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I asked for Wisdom.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And God gave me Problems to solve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I asked for Prosperity.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And God gave me Brain and Brawn to work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I asked for Courage.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And God gave me Danger to overcome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I asked for Love.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And God gave me Troubled people to help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I asked for Favors.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And God gave me Opportunities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I received nothing I wanted ........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I received everything I needed!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Trust in God. Always !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114675087543577498?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114675087543577498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114675087543577498&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114675087543577498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114675087543577498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/butterfly.html' title='Butterfly'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114667502220711199</id><published>2006-05-03T18:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T19:12:15.866+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Copper Coin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mahatma Gandhi went from city to city, village to village collecting funds for the Charkha Sangh. During one of his tours he addressed a meeting in Orissa. After his speech a poor old woman got up. She was bent with age, her hair was grey and her clothes were in tatters. The volunteers tried to stop her, but she fought her way to the place where Gandhiji was sitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I must see him," she insisted and going up to Gandhiji touched his feet. Then from the folds of her sari she brought out a copper coin and placed it at his feet. Gandhiji picked up the copper coin and put it away carefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Charkha Sangh funds were under the charge of Jamnalal Bajaj. He asked Gandhiji for the coin but Gandhiji refused. "I keep cheques worth thousands of rupees for the Charkha Sangh," Jamnalal Bajaj said laughingly "yet you won't trust me with a copper coin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This copper coin is worth much more than those thousands," Gandhiji said. "If a man has several lakhs and he gives away a thousand or two, it doesn't mean much. But this coin was perhaps all that the poor woman possessed. She gave me all she had. That was very generous of her. What a great sacrifice she made. That is why I value this copper coin more than a crore of rupees."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mkgandhi-sarvodaya.org/story.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;INSPIRING STORIES FROM GANDHIJI'S LIFE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114667502220711199?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114667502220711199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114667502220711199&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114667502220711199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114667502220711199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/copper-coin.html' title='The Copper Coin'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114657200324691437</id><published>2006-05-02T14:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T14:13:23.256+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Eagles In A Storm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come. When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm to lift it higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the storms of life come upon us - and all of us will experience them - we can rise above them by setting our minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have to overcome us. We can allow God's power to lift us above them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment in our lives. We can soar above the storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down, it is how we handle them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114657200324691437?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114657200324691437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114657200324691437&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114657200324691437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114657200324691437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/eagles-in-storm.html' title='Eagles In A Storm'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114650006699379298</id><published>2006-05-01T18:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T18:16:24.693+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Frogs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A group of frogs were traveling through the woods, and two of them fell into a deep pit. When the other frogs saw how deep the pit was, they told the two frogs that they were as good as dead. The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump up out of the pit with all their might. The other frogs kept telling them to stop, that they were as good as dead. Finally, one of the frogs took heed to what the other frogs were saying and gave up. He fell down and died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the crowd of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and just die. He jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out, the other frogs said, "Did you not hear us?" The frog explained to them that he was deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This story teaches two lessons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;1. There is power of life and death in the tongue. An encouraging word to someone who is down can lift them up and help them make it through the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. A destructive word to someone who is down can be what it takes to kill them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be careful of what you say. Speak life to those who cross your path. The power of words... it is sometimes hard to understand that an encouraging word can go such a long way. Anyone can speak words that tend to rob another of the spirit to continue in difficult times. Special is the individual who will take the time to encourage another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114650006699379298?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114650006699379298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114650006699379298&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114650006699379298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114650006699379298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/05/two-frogs.html' title='Two Frogs'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114631961992588183</id><published>2006-04-29T16:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T16:06:59.946+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Parable Of The Pencil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There are 5 things you need to know," he told the pencil, "Before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in Someone's hand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you'll need it to become a better pencil."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Four: The most important part of you will always be what's inside."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And Five: On every surface you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now replacing the place of the pencil with you.  Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in God's hand. And allow other human beings to access you for the many gifts you possess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in life, but you'll need it to become a stronger person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four: The most important part of you will always be what's on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Five: On every surface you walk through, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue to do your duties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;Allow this parable on the pencil to encourage you to know that you are a special person&lt;br /&gt;and only you can fulfill the purpose to which you were born to accomplish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant&lt;br /&gt;and cannot make a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp; Source: Unknown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114631961992588183?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114631961992588183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114631961992588183&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114631961992588183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114631961992588183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/parable-of-pencil.html' title='Parable Of The Pencil'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114622900580607101</id><published>2006-04-28T14:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T15:04:23.360+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On the very first day, God created the cow. He said to the cow, "Today I have created you! As a cow, you must go to the field with the farmer all day long. You will work all day under the sun! I will give you a life span of 50 years."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cow objected, "What? This kind of a tough life you want me to live for 50 years? Let me have 20 years, and the 30 years I'll give back to you." So God agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the second day, God created the dog. God said to the dog, "You are supposed to do is to sit all day by the door of your house. Any people that come in, you will have to bark at them! I'll give a life span of 20 years."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog objected, "What? All day long to sit by the door? No way! I give you back my other 10 years of life!" So God agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the third day, God created the monkey. He said to the monkey, "Monkeys have to entertain people. You've got to make them laugh and do monkey tricks. I'll give you 20 years life span."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The monkey objected. "What? Make them laugh? Do monkey faces and tricks? Ten years will do, and the other 10 years I'll give you back." So God agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fourth day, God created man and said to him, "Your job is to sleep, eat, and play. You will enjoy very much in your life. All you need to do is to enjoy and do nothing. This kind of life, I'll give you a 20 year life span."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man objected. "What? Such a good life! Eat, play, sleep, do nothing? Enjoy the best and you expect me to live only for 20 years? No way, man!....Why don't we make a deal? Since the cow gave you back 30 years, and the dog gave you back 10 years and the monkey gave you back 10 years, I will take them from you! That makes my life span 70 years, right?" So God agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;AND THAT'S WHY....&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;In our first 20 years, we eat, sleep, play, enjoy the best and do nothing much. For the next 30 years, we work all day long, suffer and get to support the family. For the next 10 years, we entertain our grandchildren by making monkey faces and monkey tricks. And for the last 10 years, we stay at home, sit by the front door and bark at people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Author &amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114622900580607101?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114622900580607101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114622900580607101&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114622900580607101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114622900580607101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/gift-of-life.html' title='The Gift of Life'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114614699607763787</id><published>2006-04-27T16:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:43:18.946+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Unconditional Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"There's something you should know the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are. Thankfully, there's someone who won't treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, before you tuck yourself in for the night, say a little prayer that God will give you the strength you need to accept people as they are, and to help us all be more understanding of those who are different from us!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114614699607763787?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114614699607763787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114614699607763787&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114614699607763787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114614699607763787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/unconditional-love.html' title='Unconditional Love'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114606744266612505</id><published>2006-04-26T17:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T18:06:25.626+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mountain Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A son and his father were walking on the mountains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams:&lt;br /&gt;"AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To his surprise, he hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain: "AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curious, he yells:&lt;br /&gt;"Who are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He receives the answer:&lt;br /&gt;"Who are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he screams to the mountain:&lt;br /&gt;"I admire you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice answers:&lt;br /&gt;"I admire you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angered at the response, he screams:&lt;br /&gt;"Coward!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He receives the answer:&lt;br /&gt;"Coward!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looks to his father and asks:&lt;br /&gt;"What's going on?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father smiles and says:&lt;br /&gt;"My son, pay attention."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again the man screams:&lt;br /&gt;"You are a champion!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice answers:&lt;br /&gt;"You are a champion!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy is surprised, but does not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the father explains:&lt;br /&gt;"People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE.&lt;br /&gt;It gives you back everything you say or do.&lt;br /&gt;Our life is simply a reflection of our actions.&lt;br /&gt;If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart.&lt;br /&gt;If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence.&lt;br /&gt;This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life;&lt;br /&gt;Life will give you back everything you have given to it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT'S A REFLECTION OF YOU!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114606744266612505?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114606744266612505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114606744266612505&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114606744266612505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114606744266612505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/mountain-story.html' title='Mountain Story'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114606699837909489</id><published>2006-04-26T17:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T17:56:38.393+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Love and Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said,&lt;br /&gt;"Richness, can you take me with you?"&lt;br /&gt;Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!"&lt;br /&gt;"I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much was owed the elder,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who Helped me?"&lt;br /&gt;"It was Time," Knowledge answered.&lt;br /&gt;"Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?"&lt;br /&gt;Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114606699837909489?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114606699837909489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114606699837909489&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114606699837909489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114606699837909489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/love-and-time.html' title='Love and Time'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114597232280460247</id><published>2006-04-25T15:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T15:38:42.806+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sand and Stone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one, who had been slapped, got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After the friend recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other friend replied: "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt;LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt;AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114597232280460247?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114597232280460247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114597232280460247&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114597232280460247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114597232280460247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/sand-and-stone.html' title='Sand and Stone'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114597209737100268</id><published>2006-04-25T15:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:44:29.943+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Building Your House</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go &amp; 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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;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."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The carpenter was shocked!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;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 would do it much differently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;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. Therefore, Build wisely!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114597209737100268?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114597209737100268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114597209737100268&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114597209737100268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114597209737100268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/building-your-house.html' title='Building Your House'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114588217297959536</id><published>2006-04-24T14:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:45:16.283+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Blessed?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you woke up this morning with more health than illness.......... you are more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation....... you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep... you are richer than 75% of this world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace....... you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If your parents are still alive and still married........ you are very rare, even in the United States.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you hold up your head with a smile on your face and are truly thankful..... you are blessed because the majority can, but most do not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you prayed yesterday and today........ you are in the minority because you believe God does hear and answer prayers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you can read now, you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world that cannot read at all.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author Unknown, Source Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114588217297959536?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114588217297959536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114588217297959536&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114588217297959536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114588217297959536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/are-you-blessed.html' title='Are You Blessed?'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114588047268704946</id><published>2006-04-24T13:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:50:03.076+02:00</updated><title type='text'>24 Things To Always Remember</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Your presence is a present to the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You are unique and one of a kind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Your life can be what you want it to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Take the days just one at a time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Count your blessings, not your troubles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You will make it through whatever comes along.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Within you are so many answers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Understand, have courage, be strong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Do not put limits on yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So many dreams are waiting to be realized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Decisions are too important to leave to chance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Reach for your peak, your goal and you prize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The longer one carries a problem the heavier it gets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Do not take things too seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Remember that a little love goes a long way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Remember that a lot … goes forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Remember that friendship is a wise investment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Life’s treasure are people together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Realize that it is never too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Do ordinary things in an extraordinary way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Have hearth and hope and happiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Take the time to wish upon a start.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;AND DO NOT EVER FORGET ….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;FOR EVEN A DAY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;HOW VERY SPECIAL YOU ARE !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114588047268704946?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114588047268704946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114588047268704946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114588047268704946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114588047268704946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/24-things-to-always-remember.html' title='24 Things To Always Remember'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114579730174460581</id><published>2006-04-23T14:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:51:05.163+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Plants And People</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Plants grow best when we pay attention to them. That means watering, touching them, putting them in places where they will receive good light. They need people around them to notice if they are drooping at the edges or looking particularly happy in the sunlight. The more attention a plant receives, the better it will grow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We need to be noticed in the same way. If we notice a family member or friend is drooping, perhaps we can pay some special attention to him or her. All of us need someone to care about how we are and to truly listen to us. We can share and double someone's happiness by noticing and talking about it also. We help the people around us to grow by listening to their droopy edges as well as their bright days. People need this as much as plants need light and water. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author Unknown, Teaching What I Most Need to Know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114579730174460581?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114579730174460581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114579730174460581&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114579730174460581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114579730174460581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/plants-and-people.html' title='Plants And People'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114579611571117956</id><published>2006-04-23T14:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:51:37.096+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Scorpion Moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;There was this Hindu who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. He decided to save it by stretching out his finger, but the scorpion stung him. The man still tried to get the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A man nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that kept stinging him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;But the Hindu said: "It is the nature of the scorpion to sting. It is my nature to love. Why should I give up my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Don't give up loving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Don't give up your goodness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Even if people around you sting.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114579611571117956?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114579611571117956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114579611571117956&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114579611571117956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114579611571117956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/scorpion-moment.html' title='A Scorpion Moment'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114570059123284272</id><published>2006-04-22T12:03:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:54:01.836+02:00</updated><title type='text'>F-A-M-I-L-Y</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I bumped into a stranger as he passed by,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Oh, excuse me Please" was my reply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;He said, "Please excuse me too; Wasn't even watching for you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We were very polite, this stranger and I.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We went on our way and we said good-bye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;But at home a different story is told,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;How we treat our loved ones, young and old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Later that day, cooking the evening meal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;My daughter stood beside me very still.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;When I turned, I nearly knocked her down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She walked away, her little heart was broken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;While I lay awake in bed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;God's still small voice came to me and said,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;But the children you love, you seem to abuse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Look on the kitchen floor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You'll find some flowers there by the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Those are the flowers she brought for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She picked them herself: pink, yellow and blue.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;and you never saw the tears in her eyes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;By this time, I felt very small,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;and now my tears began to fall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I quietly went and knelt by her bed;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Wake up, little girl, wake up," I said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I said, "Daughter, I'm sorry for the way I acted today;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I said, "Daughter, I love you too,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Are you aware that:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family - an unwise investment indeed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So what is behind the story?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You know what is the full word of family?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;FAMILY&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;=  &lt;/span&gt;(&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;ather&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; other,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; (&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;) (&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; ove&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; (&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; ou!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Fill life with love and bravery and we shall live a life uncommon.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114570059123284272?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114570059123284272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114570059123284272&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114570059123284272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114570059123284272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/f-m-i-l-y.html' title='F-A-M-I-L-Y'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114570003488973402</id><published>2006-04-22T11:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:54:35.463+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Most Important Lesson</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely, this was some kind of joke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'hello'." "I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114570003488973402?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114570003488973402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114570003488973402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114570003488973402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114570003488973402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/most-important-lesson.html' title='A Most Important Lesson'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114562989428056416</id><published>2006-04-21T16:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:56:15.776+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>Finding God Within and Without</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;How do I find You God?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;God is&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever loved,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever been loved,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You have experienced God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;from Within and Without&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;God is &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Truth&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever told the truth,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever discovered Truth,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You have experienced God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;from Within and Without&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;God is &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Beauty&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever helped to create something beautiful,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever witnessed beauty in any of it's myriad forms,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You have experienced God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;from Within and Without&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;God is &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;Good&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever done or thought something good,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;If you have ever recognized goodness in or through another,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You have experienced God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;from Within and Without&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;All of those experiences, those gifts,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Truth&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Beauty&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;Goodness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;were directly from God through you. or to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Glad to Meet You God. let's hang out together.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114562989428056416?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114562989428056416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114562989428056416&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114562989428056416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114562989428056416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/finding-god-within-and-without.html' title='Finding God Within and Without'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114562928089724680</id><published>2006-04-21T16:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T14:57:08.946+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Black and Gold Boxes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I have in my hands two boxes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Which God gave me to hold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;He said, "Put all your sorrows in the &lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;And all your joys in the &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;gold&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I heeded his words, and in the two boxes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Both my joys and sorrows I store&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;But though the &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;gold&lt;/span&gt; became heavier each day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt; was as light as before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;With curiosity, I opened the &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I wanted to find out why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Which my sorrows had fallen out by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I showed the hole to God, and mused aloud,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"I wonder where my sorrows could be."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;He smiled a gentle smile at me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"My child, they're all here with me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I asked, "God, why give me the boxes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Why the&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt; gold&lt;/span&gt;, and the &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt; with the hole?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"My child, the &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;gold&lt;/span&gt; is for you to count your blessings,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;the &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt; is for you to let go."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114562928089724680?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114562928089724680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114562928089724680&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114562928089724680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114562928089724680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/black-and-gold-boxes.html' title='Black and Gold Boxes'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114554154945215214</id><published>2006-04-20T15:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T15:59:09.453+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret of Success</title><content type='html'>"Sir, What is the secret of your success?" a reporter asked a bank president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Two words"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And, Sir,what are they?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Right decisions."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And how do you make right decisions?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One word."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And,sir,What is that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Experience."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And how do you get Experience ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Two words"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And, Sir,what are they?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wrong decisions" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114554154945215214?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114554154945215214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114554154945215214&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114554154945215214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114554154945215214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/secret-of-success.html' title='Secret of Success'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114554135678497594</id><published>2006-04-20T15:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T15:55:56.793+02:00</updated><title type='text'>One Step</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Foolish people with all their other thoughts, have this one too: They are always getting ready to live, but never living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your success will start when you begin to pursue it. To reach your goal or to attain success, you don't need to know all of the answers in advance. You just need to have a clear idea of what your goal is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't procrastinate when faced with difficult problems. Break your problems into parts, and handle one part at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Develop tendencies toward taking action. You can make something happen right now. Divide your big plan into small steps and take that first step right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone who ever got where they are had to begin where they were. Your big opportunity is where you are right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. Take it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114554135678497594?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114554135678497594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114554135678497594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114554135678497594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114554135678497594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/one-step.html' title='One Step'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114545898876862747</id><published>2006-04-19T16:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T17:03:08.770+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gossiper</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A woman repeated a bit of gossip about a neighbor.Within a few days the whole community knew the story. The person it concerned was deeply hurt and offended. Later the woman responsible for spreading the rumor learned that it was completely untrue. She was very sorry and went to a wise old sage to find out what she could do to repair the damage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go to the marketplace," he said, "and purchase a chicken, and have it killed. Then on your way home, pluck its feathers and drop them one by one along the road." Although surprised by this advice, the woman did what she was told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day the wise man said, "Now go and collect all those feathers you dropped yesterday and bring them back to me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman followed the same road, but to her dismay, the wind had blown the feathers all away. After searching for hours, she returned with only three in her hand. "You see," said the old sage, "it's easy to drop them, but it's impossible to get them back. So it is with gossip. It doesn't take much to spread a rumor, but once you do, you can never completely undo the wrong." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author Unknown, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114545898876862747?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114545898876862747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114545898876862747&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114545898876862747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114545898876862747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/gossiper.html' title='Gossiper'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114545862356732997</id><published>2006-04-19T16:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T16:57:03.576+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Courage of His Convictions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;ABE LINCOLN made the great speech of his famous senatorial campaign at Springfield, Illinois. The convention before which he spoke consisted of a thousand delegates together with the crowd that had gathered with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His speech was carefully prepared. Every sentence was guarded and emphatic. It has since become famous as "The Divided House" speech. Before entering the hall where it was to be delivered, he stepped into the office of his law- partner, Mr. Herndon, and, locking the door, so that their interview might be private, took his manuscript from his pocket, and read one of the opening sentences: "I believe this government cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Herndon remarked that the sentiment was true, but suggested that it might not be good policy to utter it at that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Lincoln replied with great firmness: "No matter about the policy. It is true, and the nation is entitled to it. The proposition has been true for six thousand years, and I will deliver it as it is written."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author Unknown, Good Stories for Great Holidays&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114545862356732997?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114545862356732997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114545862356732997&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114545862356732997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114545862356732997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/courage-of-his-convictions.html' title='The Courage of His Convictions'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114475909173130312</id><published>2006-04-11T14:29:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T14:38:11.733+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Change the World</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled a prosperous country. One day, he went for a trip to some distant areas of his country. When he was back to his palace, he complained that his feet were very painful, because it was the first time that he went for such a long trip, and the road that he went through was very rough and stony. He then ordered his people to cover every road of the entire country with leather. Definitely, this would need thousands of cows' skin, and would cost a huge amount of money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one of his wise servant dared himself to tell the king, "Why do you have to spend that unnecessary amount of money ? Why don't you just cut a little piece of leather to cover your feet ?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The king was surprised, but he later agreed to his suggestion, to make a "shoe" for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is actually a valuable lesson of life in this story : to make this world a happy place to live, you better change yourself - your heart; and not the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author Unknown, The Prayer of the Frog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114475909173130312?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114475909173130312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114475909173130312&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114475909173130312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114475909173130312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/dont-change-world.html' title='Don&apos;t Change the World'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114475857137182821</id><published>2006-04-11T14:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T17:10:58.016+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The House of 1000 Mirrors</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Long ago in a small, far away village, there was 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."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;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."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;All the faces in the world are mirrors. What kind of reflections do you see in the faces of the people you meet? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author Unknown, Japanese folktale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114475857137182821?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114475857137182821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114475857137182821&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114475857137182821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114475857137182821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/house-of-1000-mirrors.html' title='The House of 1000 Mirrors'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114466002176422953</id><published>2006-04-10T10:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T11:07:02.326+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gardening God's Way</title><content type='html'>Plant three rows of peas:&lt;br /&gt;Peace of mind&lt;br /&gt;Peace of heart&lt;br /&gt;Peace of soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plant four rows of squash:&lt;br /&gt;Squash gossip&lt;br /&gt;Squash indifference&lt;br /&gt;Squash grumbling&lt;br /&gt;Squash selfishness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plant four rows of lettuce:&lt;br /&gt;Lettuce be faithful&lt;br /&gt;Lettuce be kind&lt;br /&gt;Lettuce be obedient&lt;br /&gt;Lettuce really love one another&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No garden without turnips:&lt;br /&gt;Turnip for meetings&lt;br /&gt;Turnip for service&lt;br /&gt;Turnip to help one another&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Water freely with patience and cultivate love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is much fruit for your garden&lt;br /&gt;Because you reap what you sow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To conclude our garden&lt;br /&gt;We must have thyme:&lt;br /&gt;Thyme for God&lt;br /&gt;Thyme for study&lt;br /&gt;Thyme for prayer&lt;br /&gt;Thyme for each other&lt;br /&gt;Thyme for friends &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114466002176422953?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114466002176422953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114466002176422953&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114466002176422953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114466002176422953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/gardening-gods-way.html' title='Gardening God&apos;s Way'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114465937476646331</id><published>2006-04-10T10:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T16:02:47.643+02:00</updated><title type='text'>An Old Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Once upon a time there was a leafy tree in a field. Leaves grew densely on the tall branches. The roots were deeply into the ground. The tree was the most remarkable among the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tree then became the home for some birds. They built their nests and they lived on his branches. The birds made holes on him, and they hatched their eggs within the greatness of the tree. The tree felt so delighted because he was accompanied as he walked through his long lasting days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People were grateful for the presence of the tree. They often came over and sheltered under him. Under his branches, they sat down and opened their picnic baskets. "This tree is very useful," that's what the people said everytime they went home from shelter. The tree was very proud hearing those compliments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, time went on. The tree was beginning to be sick. His leaves and twigs were falling, then his body became thin and pale. The greatness he used to have was fading away. Birds felt reluctant to build their nests there. No one would come to sit under the tree to shelter anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tree wept, "Oh God, why is it so hard for me? I need friends. Now no one would come close to me. Why do you take all the glory I used to have?" The tree cried loudly, so it echoed throughout the forest. "Why wouldn't you cut me down, so I don't have to bear this suffering?" The tree kept on crying, and his tears were running down his dry body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seasons came and went, but his condition had not changed. The tree was still feeling lonely. His branches became drier and drier. Every night the tree wept and cried, until the morning broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cheep...chirp....cheep" Ah, what was that noise? Oh, it's a little baby bird who has just pipped from the egg. The old tree woke up from his daydream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cheep...chirp...cheep", the noise became louder and louder. There was another baby bird. Not long after that, the tree became noisy because of the birth of new baby birds. One...two...three...and four baby birds have been born to this world. "Ah, He has answered my prayers," exclaimed the old tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after, there were many birds flying to the old tree. They were going to build new nests. The dry branches have turned out to attract their attention to nest there. The birds felt warmer to stay inside the dry branches instead of their place before. The number of birds was increasing and there were more kinds of them. "Wow, now my days are brighter with their presence here", murmured the old tree gladly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old tree was back to cheer again. And when he looked down, his heart was flowing with joy. There was a new little tree growing near his roots. The new tree seemed to smile at him. The tears of the old tree has grown a little tree who would continue his devotion to nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear friends, that’s the way it is. Is there any lesson that we could take from the story? God always has secret plans for us. The Almighty God will always gives answers to our questions. Eventhough it is not always easy to guess what the resolution is, be certain that the Omniscient God knows what’s best for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;When there are times He sends temptation for us, in other times He gives us His overflowing blessings. The test He gives us isn’t something that can’t be overcome. When God gave the temptation to the old tree, actually He DELAYED in giving His glory. God didn’t choose to cut the old tree down since He kept some secrets. God was testing his patience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;So, dear friends, be sure, whatever temptation we are facing is a part of the chain of glory He is preparing for us. Don’t give up, and don’t be discouraged. God is always there beside patient people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114465937476646331?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114465937476646331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114465937476646331&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114465937476646331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114465937476646331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/old-tree.html' title='An Old Tree'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114459698919635888</id><published>2006-04-09T17:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T17:36:29.196+02:00</updated><title type='text'>1 Dollar and 100 Dollar Bill</title><content type='html'>One day, a one dollar bill and a hundred dollar bill got folded together and began talking about their life experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hundred dollar bill began to brag:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've had a great life," he said. "I've been to all the big hotels, Donald Trump himself used me at his casino, I've been in the wallets of Fortune 500 board members, I've flown from one end of the country to the other! I've even been in the wallet of two Presidents of the United States, and once when Princess Diana visited the US, she used me to buy a packet of gum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In awe, the dollar humbly responded, "Gee, nothing like that has ever happened to me, ...but I have been to church a lot!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114459698919635888?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114459698919635888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114459698919635888&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114459698919635888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114459698919635888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/1-dollar-and-100-dollar-bill.html' title='1 Dollar and 100 Dollar Bill'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114459687296929656</id><published>2006-04-09T17:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T17:34:32.980+02:00</updated><title type='text'>No God</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A college student was in a philosophy class, where there was a class discussion about whether or not God exists, The professor had the following logic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone in this class heard God?" Nobody spoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone in this class touched God?" Again, nobody spoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone in this class seen God?" When nobody spoke for the third time, he simply stated, "Then there is no God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student did not like the sound of this at all, and asked for permission to speak. The professor granted it, and the student stood up and asked the following questions of his classmates:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone in this class heard our professor's brain?" Silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone in this class touched our professor's brain?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absolute silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has anyone in this class seen our professor's brain?" When nobody in the class dared to speak, the student concluded, "Then, according to our professor's logic, it must be true that our professor has no brain!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114459687296929656?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114459687296929656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114459687296929656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114459687296929656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114459687296929656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/no-god.html' title='No God'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25602622.post-114450150820755742</id><published>2006-04-08T15:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T15:05:08.206+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friendship'/><title type='text'>The Bear and the Two Travelers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Two men were traveling together, when a Bear suddenly met them on their path. One of them climbed up quickly into a tree and concealed himself in the branches. The other, seeing that he must be attacked, fell flat on the ground, and when the Bear came up and felt him with his snout, and smelt him all over, he held his breath, and feigned the appearance of death as much as he could. The Bear soon left him, for it is said he will not touch a dead body. When he was quite gone, the other Traveler descended from the tree, and jocularly inquired of his friend what it was the Bear had whispered in his ear. "&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;He gave me this advice&lt;/span&gt;," his companion replied. "&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the approach of danger&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Author &amp;amp; Source: Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25602622-114450150820755742?l=storiadellavita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/feeds/114450150820755742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25602622&amp;postID=114450150820755742&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114450150820755742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25602622/posts/default/114450150820755742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiadellavita.blogspot.com/2006/04/bear-and-two-travelers.html' title='The Bear and the Two Travelers'/><author><name>widhi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14897489482504082833</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://img486.imageshack.us/img486/3065/bktp5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
