A mix collection of inspirational stories gathered from the internet and personal experiences.

Friday, October 26, 2012


By Colonel James E. Moschgat,
Commander of the 12th Operations Group, 12th Flying Training Wing,
Randolph Air Force Base, Texas
William "Bill" Crawford certainly was an unimpressive figure,one you could easily overlook during a hectic day at them U.S. Air Force Academy. Mr. Crawford, as most of us referred to him back in the late 1970s, was our squadron janitor.
While we cadets busied ourselves preparing for academic exams, athletic events, Saturday morning parades and room inspections, or never-ending leadership classes, Bill quietly moved about the squadron mopping and buffing floors, emptying trash cans, cleaning toilets, or just tidying up the mess 100 college-age kids can leave in a dormitory. Sadly, and for many years,
few of us gave him much notice, rendering little more than a passing nod or throwing a curt, "G'morning!" in his direction as we hurried off to our daily duties.
Why? Perhaps it was because of the way he did his job-he always kept the squadron area spotlessly clean, even the toilets and showers gleamed. Frankly, he did his job so well, none of us had to notice or get involved. After all, cleaning toilets was his job, not ours. Maybe it was is physical appearance that made him disappear into the background. Bill didn't move very quickly and, in fact, you could say he even shuffled a bit, as if he suffered from some sort of injury. His gray hair and wrinkled face made him appear ancient to a group of young cadets. And his crooked smile, well, it looked a little funny. Face it, Bill was an old man working in a young person's world. What did he have to offer us on a personal level?
Finally, maybe it was Mr. Crawford's personality that rendered him almost invisible to the young people around him. Bill was shy, almost painfully so. He seldom spoke to a cadet unless they addressed him first, and that didn't happen very often. Our janitor always buried himself in his work, moving about with stooped shoulders, a quiet gait, and an averted gaze. If he noticed the hustle and bustle of cadet life around him, it was hard to tell. So, for whatever reason, Bill blended into the woodwork and became just another fixture around the squadron. The Academy, one of our nation's premier leadership laboratories, kept us busy from dawn till dusk. And Mr.  Crawford ... well, he was just a janitor.
That changed one fall Saturday afternoon in 1976. I was reading a book about World War II and the tough Allied ground campaign in Italy, when I stumbled across an incredible story. On September 13, 1943, a Private William Crawford from Colorado, assigned to the 36th Infantry Division, had been involved in some bloody fighting on Hill 424 near Altavilla, Italy. The words on the page leapt out at me: "in the face of intense and overwhelming hostile fire ... with no regard for personal safety ... on his own initiative, Private Crawford single-handedlyattacked fortified enemy positions." It continued, "for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, the President of the United States ..."
"Holy cow," I said to my roommate, "you're not going to believe this, but I think our janitor is a Medal of Honor winner." We all knew Mr. Crawford was a WWII Army vet, but that didn't keep my friend from looking at me as if I was some sort of alien being. Nonetheless, we couldn't wait to ask Bill about the story on Monday. We met Mr. Crawford bright and early Monday and showed him the page in question from the book, anticipation and doubt in our faces. He starred at it for a few silent moments and then quietly uttered something like, "Yep, that's me."
Mouths agape, my roommate and I looked at one another, then at the book, and quickly back at our janitor. Almost at once we both stuttered, "Why didn't you ever tell us about it?" He slowly replied after some thought, "That was one day in my life and it happened a long time ago."
I guess we were all at a loss for words after that. We had to hurry off to class and Bill, well, he had chores to attend to. However, after that brief exchange, things were never again the same around our squadron. Word spread like wildfire among the cadets that we had a hero in our midst - Mr. Crawford, our janitor, had won the Medal! Cadets who had once passed by Bill with hardly a glance, now greeted him with a smile and a respectful, "Good morning, Mr. Crawford."
Those who had before left a mess for the "janitor" to clean up started taking it upon themselves to put things in order. Most cadets routinely stopped to talk to Bill throughout the day and we even began inviting him to our formal squadron functions. He'd show up dressed in a conservative dark suit and quietly talk to those who approached him, the only sign of his heroics being a simple blue, starspangled lapel pin.
Almost overnight, Bill went from being a simple fixture in our squadron to one of our teammates. Mr. Crawford changed too, but you had to look closely to notice the difference. After that fall day in 1976, he seemed to move with more purpose, his shoulders didn't seem to be as stooped, he met our greetings with a direct gaze and a stronger "good morning" in return, and he flashed his crooked smile more often. The squadron gleamed as always, but everyone now seemed to notice it more. Bill even got to know most of us by our first names, something that didn't happen often at the Academy. While no one ever formally acknowledged the change, I think we became Bill's cadets and his squadron.
As often happens in life, events sweep us away from those in our past. The last time I saw Bill was on graduation day in June 1977. As I walked out of the squadron for the last time, he shook my hand and simply said, "Good luck, young man." With that, I embarked on a career that has been truly lucky and blessed. Mr. Crawford continued to work at the Academy and eventually retired in his native Colorado where he resides today, one of four Medal of Honor winners living in a small town.
A wise person once said, "It's not life that's important, but those you meet along the way that make the difference." Bill was one who made a difference for me. While I haven't seen Mr. Crawford in over twenty years,he'd probably be surprised to know I think of him often. Bill Crawford, our janitor, taught me many valuable, unforgettable leadership lessons. Here are ten I'd like to share with you.
1. Be Cautious of Labels. Labels you place on people may define your relationship to them and bound their potential. Sadly, and for a long time, we labeled Bill as just a janitor, but he was so much more. Therefore, be cautious of a leader who callously says, "Hey, he's just an Airman." Likewise, don't tolerate the O-1, who says, "I can't do that, I'm just a lieutenant."
2. Everyone Deserves Respect. Because we hung the "janitor" label on Mr. Crawford, we often wrongly treated him with less respect than others around us. He deserved much more, and not just because he was a Medal of Honor winner.  Bill deserved respect because he was a janitor, walked among us, and was a part of our team.
3. Courtesy Makes a Difference. Be courteous to all around you, regardless of rank or position. Military customs, as well as common courtesies, help bond a team. When our daily words to Mr. Crawford turned from perfunctory "hellos" to heartfelt greetings, his demeanor and personality outwardly changed. It made adifference for all of us.
4. Take Time to Know Your People. Life in the military is hectic, but that's no excuse for not knowing the people you work for and with. For years a hero walked among us at the Academy and we never knew it. Who are the heroes that walk in your midst?
5. Anyone Can Be a Hero. Mr. Crawford certainly didn't fit anyone's standard definition of a hero. Moreover, he was just a private on the day he won his Medal. Don't sell your people short, for any one of them may be the hero who rises to the occasion when duty calls. On the other hand, it's easy to turn to your proven performers when the chips are down, but don't ignore the rest of the team. Today's rookie could and should be tomorrow's superstar.
6. Leaders Should Be Humble. Most modern day heroes and some leaders are anything but humble, especially if you calibrate your "hero meter" on today's athletic fields. End zone celebrations and self-aggrandizement are what we've come to expect from sports greats. Not Mr. Crawford - he was too busy working to celebrate his past heroics. Leaders would be well-served to do the same.
7. Life Won't Always Hand You What You Think You Deserve. We in the military work hard and, dang it, we deserve recognition, right? However, sometimes you just have to persevere, even when accolades don't come your way. Perhaps you  weren't nominated for junior officer or airman of the quarter as you thought you should - don't let that stop you.
8. Don't pursue glory; pursue excellence. Private Bill Crawford didn't pursue glory; he did his duty and then swept floors for a living. No job is beneath a Leader. If Bill Crawford, a Medal of Honor winner, could clean latrines and smile,  is there a job beneath your dignity? Think about it.
9. Pursue Excellence. No matter what task life hands you, do it well. Dr. Martin Luther King said, "If life makes you a street sweeper, be the best street sweeper you can be." Mr. Crawford modeled that philosophy and helped make our dormitory area a home.
10. Life is a Leadership Laboratory. All too often we look to some school or PME class to teach us about leadership when, in fact, life is a leadership laboratory. Those you meet everyday will teach you enduring lessons if you just take time to stop, look and listen. I spent four years at the Air Force Academy, took dozens of classes, read hundreds of books, and met thousands of great people.  I gleaned leadership skills from all of them, but one of the people I remember most is Mr. Bill Crawford and the lessons he unknowingly taught. Don't miss your opportunity to learn.
Bill Crawford was a janitor. However, he was also a teacher, friend, role model and one great American hero. Thanks, Mr. Crawford, for some valuable leadership lessons.
Dale Pyeatt, Executive Director of the National Guard Association of Texas, comments: And now, for the "rest of the story": Pvt William John Crawford was a platoon scout for 3rd Platoon of Company L 1 42nd Regiment 36th Division (Texas National Guard) and won the Medal Of Honor for his actions on Hill 424, just 4 days after the invasion at Salerno.
On Hill 424, Pvt Crawford took out 3 enemy machine guns before darkness fell, halting the platoon's advance. Pvt Crawford could not be found and was assumed dead. The request for his MOH (Medal of Honor) was quickly approved. Major General Terry Allen presented the posthumous MOH to Bill Crawford's father, George, on 11 May 1944 in Camp (now Fort) Carson, near Pueblo. Nearly two months after that, it was learned that Pvt Crawford was alive in a POW camp in Germany.  During his captivity, a German guard clubbed him with his rifle. Bill overpowered him, took the rifle away, and beat the guard unconscious. A German doctor's testimony saved him from severe punishment, perhaps death. To stay ahead of the advancing Russian army, the prisoners were marched 500 miles in 52 days in the middle of the German winter, subsisting on one potato a day. An allied tank column liberated the camp in the spring of 1945, and Pvt Crawford took his first hot shower in 18 months on VE Day. Pvt Crawford stayed in the army before retiring as a MSG and becoming a janitor. In 1984, President Ronald Reagan officially presented the MOH to Bill Crawford.
William Crawford passed away in 2000. He is the only U.S. Army veteran and sole Medal of Honor winner to be buried in the cemetery of the U.S. Air Force Academy. 
AUTHORS NOTE:  profile of William Crawford is available at http://www.homeofheroes.com/profiles/profiles_crawford.html, and his Medal of Honor citation can be found at www.army.mil/cmh-pg/mohiia1.htm.

Friday, October 19, 2012


By Linda Stallings

No matter where she moved or who she married that little chair had a place in her home. I had admired it for years and, although it was nothing special except that it belonged to her, I longed to have it. Bright pink corduroy, she called it a "Sweetheart Chair". It was sort of heart shaped on the back and I guess the color, pink, gave it its name.

Why I was so drawn to it, I can't really say. I just was. Aunt Ann was like a second mother to me; full of advice, especially about men, relationships and marriage. Heaven knows she was fully schooled to give it having had four husbands of her own, two of which she just plain out lived.
She believed in marriage and it was quite obvious that when she was between husbands, she wasn't happy. She loved taking care of her husband (and everyone else for that matter), waiting on them hand and foot, satisfying their every need.

God fearing and a true servant to the Lord, she lived her life as an example of that and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't draw from her unfaltering faith and her willingness to serve him and others.

Pecan pies were her specialty and my Dad said she was as good a cook asmy Grandmother (who, he would always add, was one of the best). If I needed a recipe for anything it was her I called because she knew it by heart and even today I can fondly hear her say, "Well Honey, let me tell you what you need.".

Like my Grandmother, Aunt Ann never met a stranger and her home and her kitchen table was open to anyone and everyone. She made sure you never left without eating something, even at the very least, a piece of pie and coffee.

I guess that is why I wasn't surprised by her answer when I mentioned the chair. "Aunt Ann" I said while admiring it again, "if you ever decide to get rid of that chair, would you let me have first dibs?" "Why sure, Honey", she would say. Then, in a whisper, "You just come over some time when Harry isn't around, and I will just give it to you".

I knew she feared Harry and what he would say or do if she gave something away, so I just accepted that. He was her fourth husband and at the time she met him she was well into her seventies and had all but given up on the idea of having a companion for the remainder of her life. Harry courted her with flowers and cards, gifts and affection and she was like a schoolgirl with her first crush. A retired fireman, he seemed perfect in every way and we were all thrilled when she announced their plans to marry.

But Harry was not the man she thought he was and the following 9 years with him would prove to be a struggle and a challenge of faith, hope and love for even the most dedicated of Christians. In long conversations with her on the phone late at night, she would reveal to me the darkest and most troubling of stories about Harry and his bizarre behaviors. I knew she was afraid, afraid to stay and afraid to leave. We would talk for hours and I was always instructed by her, "Now Honey, don't say anything to anyone, this is just between us, OK?"

As we grew closer, I learned to love and respect her more than I ever thought possible. She was so good to everyone, and no matter how much she was driven down by Harry, she would always rebound with a smile and a kind word. Although I feared for her safety and well being, her dark secrets about Harry were mine and hers alone and out of love and faithfulness to her; I kept them to myself as she had asked.

October 12th of 1999 would prove to be one of the darkest days of my life when word came that she had died tragically and unexpectedly. Mypersonal loss was unbearable. Gone was my mentor, my advisor, mycounselor and the one person who could light up my life with the sound of her voice. I was lost.

The months following her death would result in a total lack of communication and cooperation from Harry. He closed the doors and locked us out, denying us even the smallest of her possessions. Months later, after hopeless negotiations with Harry and as a last resort, her daughter Jan would hire an attorney to obtain a small list of personal items that belonged with our family and had been handed down through generations.

As my 50th birthday drew near and still grieving her loss, I dreaded it. Each special event in my life since her death just didn't have the same enthusiasm and I knew not having her here to burst through the front door, carrying her pecan pies and calling out to me, "Honey, what can I do to help you?" would be yet another challenge to my faith in understanding why.

As I busied myself with preparations for the party my daughters were hosting for my 50th, the doorbell rang. Aunt Ann's daughter, Jan and her husband Joe had dropped by to wish me a happy birthday and apologize for not being in town to attend the event the following day. We visited for several hours and caught up on family and friends, world events and local news. Joe excused himself and went unnoticed to his truck. A few moments later he returned carrying a rather large wrapped 'gift' that he carefully sat down at my feet. "What's this?" I questioned. "It's your birthday present. Open it up", Jan coaxed.

Bewildered by the whole thing, I cautiously un-wrapped the gift. I stood in total silence and amazement, my throat blocked by a huge emotional lump. There, at my feet, was that little pink Sweetheart Chair. I turned to mycousin, with tears in my eyes, unable to speak. As if she could read mymind she explained, "When I gave the lawyer my list of items I wanted from Mother's house, I remembered the chair - the chair I knew Mother wanted you to have." I had no idea she even knew of the discussions about the chair, much less that she would request it - for me! It was the perfect gift - and suddenly turning 50 never looked better to me.

To lighten the mood, Joe asked with enthusiasm, "Well, where do you want it?" I wiped my cheeks and instructed him, "Follow me, I have the perfect place for it". He picked it up once again and followed me down the hallway to my room. As he sat it in the spot I selected, the wonderful memories I had of my conversations with Aunt Ann filled me with warmth I had long forgotten since her death. Her very presence was there too. So there it sits, that little pink chair - the Sweetheart Chair, she called it - right there in my room and when I open my eyes in the morning, it is the first thing I look at and remember with great fondness my special Aunt Ann and I can almost here her say, "Now Honey."

In loving memory of my beloved Aunt Ann

Linda has been writing for a number of years now and writes about true experiences that are near and dear to her heart. Many of her stories are tributes to family members. In addition to writing, Linda is a full time Executive Assistant with two grown daughters and a loving husband that enjoys spending leisure time with her on the lake or on their Harley Davidson. Linda's love for writing stories began when her children were small; she would create tales to entertain them using their names and their friends as the characters. Linda's stories have been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, the book and the weekly newspaper syndicate, Fort Worth Business Press and you may recognize her name from other stories she has shared on MyDailyInsights as well. You can reach Linda atlghastings@embarqmail.com

Monday, October 15, 2012

Think About....

Your only limitations are those you set up in your mind, or permit others to set up for you.

~Og Mandino 

Friday, October 12, 2012

I WILL BE HAPPY WHEN ... revisited

by Jared Yellin

Over the past couple of weeks, our already dismal economy has become far worse than any of the "experts" could have ever predicted. We are in the process of witnessing the "Pearl Harbor" of the financial world, as articulated by Warren Buffet.

Although this has been devastating for all Americans, it has also been a very humbling experience for our nation, one that has made us realize that we are not invincible when it comes to the fundamental problems in our country. It has been a wake up call and a lesson learned, but my fear is that many of us are processing this adverse occurrence in the totally wrong light.
We have seen our bank accounts, retirement funds, financial portfolios and any other type of investment drop significantly, but what I ask you to consider is that although our NET WORTH has been on the decline, does this have any lasting effect to your SELF WORTH? What is your identity and why have we become a nation of people whose identity is purely aligned with their finances?

I think the key to coping with these unfortunate circumstances is to really think about your definition of "success." In the past, this term has been associated with wealth, possessions, and luxuries. People gawk at the ultra wealthy and yearn to live just one day in their lives.

Although the old adage that "money does not buy happiness," is a commonplace expression to almost every single person in the world, these words have become a commodity whose value has been diminished. The new national anthem for our country unfortunately has become, "I will be happy when I make a million dollars, purchase a Mercedes, buy a mansion, own a new pair of designers jeans, take a vacation, etc."

We are constantly basing our fulfillment on the external, when we have all of the tools within our soul to appreciate who we are. When will we realize that it is not what we do not have that makes us unhappy, but rather what we have already achieved that should bring joy to our lives? The point that I am trying to make is that no one has escaped this financial debacle, but when we actually take the time to evaluate our self-inventory, we realize that the only change occurred within our bank accounts. Hopefully, we still have our health, our family, and most importantly ourselves.

Wealth can be lost within a fleeting moment as seen by our lack of control in the current economic decline, but we are the directors of our own self worth and well-being and we can create an incredible life if we so choose. This outcome, unlike a fluctuating economy, is within our control.

Rather than focusing on when we will hit the bottom of the stock market, I challenge all of you to focus your energies on ways to reach the pinnacle of your personal apex. Everything depends on the view of the beholder and whether you allow your circumstances to create your identity or if you allow your identity to create your circumstances.

I have my own personal definition of success, but prior to unveiling this for all of you to read, I think that it is important for you to realize I am driven to achieve a certain monetary status to enable me to spread my message throughout the world, but this drive for money will never consume my soul nor taint my identity. I will always focus on the who I am as opposed to the who I am not and in turn my definition looks like this; Success is measured by pursuing your unique mission in this world with a burning desire to make a difference and leave a legacy in order to be proud of the who I am and the what I stand for.

Charles F. Bunning, says it best: "If all the gold in the world were melted down into a solid cube, it would be about the size of an eight room house. If a man got possession of all that gold -- billions of dollars worth -- he could not buy a friend, character, peace of mind, clear conscience or a sense of eternity."

So I understand that this message may not be well received since most of the audience will have experienced incredibly adverse effects as a result of the deteriorating economy, but I do believe that this message possesses a substantial amount of value if read and re-read in order to make it your own. I also realize that some of my audience may not feel the aftermath of the current conditions because they are young, wealthy or a variety of other reasons, but what I do know is that you probably have experienced our new national anthem, "I will be happy when.," therefore, regardless of the way that you interpret this message, I want you to realize that everything that you ever need in life stares back at you from the mirror every single day.

All of the riches in the world will never truly provide you with the ability to sustain unconditional happiness because that comes from within. My challenge to all of my readers and anyone else who has the opportunity to digest this message is to take some time each day and remind yourself that the world around you may be falling apart, but the world within you is just beginning to take form. As always, I believe in all of you and will be by your side as we conquer these tumultuous times..Good luck!


My passion in life is igniting the self belief system of every individual that enters my world in order to assist them in reaching their full potential. I am a motivational speaker, writer, and in the process of publishing a book. I have been living the health/wellness lifestyle for as long as I can remember and found my calling as I work at a wellness start-up company that is in the process of changing millions of lives of people who we will never meet. If you would like to subscribe to my bi-monthly emails along with some additional motivation and wellness advice please email me atjared.yellin@gmail.com.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Think about.....

Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are your own fears.

~Rudyard Kipling 

Monday, October 8, 2012

Think about....

"You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing and dance, and write poems and suffer and understand, for all that is life."

~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Breast Cancer

by Pam Robbins

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month and as a 6 year breast cancer survivor, I know the importance of an annual mammogram.
My cancer was detected through my annual mammogram with surgery and chemotherapy following. I continue with check ups with my Oncologist.

I was grateful and blessed to have had good health going into this process and recognize that many prayers were with me then and continue today.

As a grateful survivor I personally feel a responsibility to others as they deal with the trauma of the disease. I have had many family members and friends that have passed due to cancer and have developed my own personal survivor philosophy of caring, helping and sharing. I feel it is my duty since I was given the gift of continued life.

First it is important to be positive and share that with others. Yes, I had some interesting moments during my treatment but I made it and people need to know that it is possible-as one person said, when I see you I know there is hope.

In the world of cancer treatment it is known that a positive attitude makes a difference so I look at my experience as a survivor rather than a victim. I communicate a message that my Oncologist gave to us on our first visit. As I lamented about family members and friends that had gone through this, she emphasized that cancer is unique to each person.

My cancer was not like my Aunt Betty's or friends Jane, Cheryl or Leanna. Treatment that didn't work for them might work for me. So, when I talk to people or send them information, I remind them of that and discourage them from comparing their diagnosis, treatment and care with others. I tried then and continue to have a sense of humor about my experience.
For example, I didn't enjoy losing my hair, but when my doctor told me I was going to have a new hairstyle, I told her I was always looking for a new one. Quite frankly it was the easiest one I ever had and it came in any color I wanted!

Also, I am younger after having this experience, as I don't count the year that I was sick! I am not naive about the possibility of a reoccurrence and so I have become my own best friend recognizing that I must be aware of changes in my body.

My Oncologist and I have an agreement called the two week rule. It is basically if something changes and symptoms continue for 2 weeks she wants to know about it. And it is my responsibility to follow up-not my spouse or daughters.

I try to be proactive and stay up to date on cancer research. It is easy to do with access to various web sites plus printed publications. This is important not only to me, but to my daughters, niece, granddaughter and friends.
There have been great strides in cancer treatment due to the work of many organizations. My dream of finding a cure is selfish-I don't want my most precious loved ones to experience what I did. I donate when asked to cancer research whether it is my time, talent, or treasure. If my small donation can benefit one person then I will be there.

This is something that can be contagious, as I have had many people tell me that they raised money because of something I said or did-taught me that you never know what kind of an affect you might have on someone. The last 6 years have been such a gift. I have tried to become more faithful and prayerful in the Lord trying to walk closer in his footsteps. In a nutshell, I intend to live each day as if it was my last.

Finally, if you haven't scheduled your annual mammogram do it today-not just for you but for your family and friends as well.

Pam Baker Robbins is an MDI subscriber and shared her story with us.  Pam was raised on Tater Road between Punkin Center and Leipsic (Indiana) by loving strong parents who taught her to fight obstacles regardless of what they might be.
After graduating from Oklahoma State University she and her husband Paul returned to Indiana where she worked for 30 plus years for Purdue University Cooperative Extension Service. Taking "early" retirement in 2003 she looked forward to new challenges and opportunities after starting an education and training company, PeopleWork Associates, with her colleague and friend.
However, the first challenge she faced was breast cancer diagnosed 5 months into retirement. Her philosophy of faith, family, friends and a wonderful medical team including traditional and non-traditional therapies carried Pam and her family through the "C Saga" which encompassed the next year of surgeries, chemotherapy and recuperation.
She celebrated her 6 year anniversary on October 3rd (2009) of this year.  You can reach her at probbins@wcrtc.net

Friday, October 5, 2012


By William Lambert

So you have been living for 40 or 50 or 60 years. What do you have to show for it? What comes to your mind first? Your children? Your house? your car? Were your children an accomplishment or an accident? Should a spouse who loves you be listed in your inventory?

I did this inventory 10 years after I have been teaching school. I personally felt my inventory was not what it should be. I had a car and an apartment. I wanted a family and a house. I changed my behavior in an attempt to get those things.

Ten years later I felt that this was not enough. A wife and kids for me was not enough for my inventory. A new direction had to be derived. I spent much time in determining what truly makes me happy. I discovered that what really made me happy was helping other people.

My inventory includes letters from three people whose life I saved using my CPR skills. A distinguished teacher award. College Degrees, Letters from students that say without my influence they would never have attended college.

Action Step. Do your life's Inventory. Try to add things that cannot be taken away from you. Certificates, Degrees, and Marketable Skills that you enjoy. Do not focus on material things.
Action Step. Discover the joy of helping others. Share your skills, your knowledge, your understandings with others. Do this without seeking credit or anything in return.

Action Step. Look at your resume. Rewrite it as if you have accomplished more. Then work on making it happen. Never think the thought that "I am too old." There exist a list of people that were over 60 before they achieved their major accomplishments. The greatest joy in my life is when I received an E Mail stating that I helped someone change their behavior.

Action Step. Please note that you don't necessarily help someone if you give them material things. You really help when you teach them how to get their own and/or when you cause them to change behavior.

Mr. Lambert has a Bachelor's degree from Lemoyne-Owen College in Biology and Chemistry, a Master's degree in Education, from Memphis State University, and he finished all the course work on a Doctorate in Curriculum and Instruction with a minor in Physics Education. He is a former teacher where he won the prestigious Distinguished Teacher Award. Mr. Lambert has made teaching his life. You can reach him at wlambert7@comcast.net

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

On strenght.....

Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength.

~Arnold Schwarzenegger