THE ERASER

by John Gaudet-Aubichon

My life as a boy was filled with violence, blood and hiding places. My siblings and I were shuffled back and forth between our violently alcoholic parents and a horribly abusive convent.

We were living in a small Saskatchewan town called Swift current with my parents during these rough periods and school was just a blur of new teachers, taunting faces and lonely lunches.

I carried the abuse inside me like a brick. I just felt like I had so many bad secrets that I wasn't supposed to tell anyone and I was so scared to let them slip that I stopped talking. I was also in perpetual mourning for my brothers and sisters. We had made so many promises to each other hiding under the bed crying while real monsters roared and no heroes came to the rescue. We promised that no matter what we would always be together. Well this was easier whispered from a terrified child than done and we were inevitably split up and thrown to the mercy of the convent again.

At best you could say I was barely surviving when I met a very special lady. You have to understand that with all that was going on with my mom and the nuns at the convent I had never had any positive contact with women in my life. That's why I was filled with dread when she asked me to stay after school.

Her name was Mrs. Shannon and she was my second grade teacher. I spent the afternoon filled with anguish as the clock ticked the seconds by. What new torture was I in for now? What ever had I done? I remembered taking a half empty milk carton and a carrot off another child's desk at lunch and eating them. (I was so desperate for milk and real food that I just couldn't help myself.) I thought that this may be what I was to be detained for. At the end of the day the final bell found me numb with fear and anguish.

I sat at my desk as kids bustled by me with taunts of "you're really gonna get it this time" and " what kinds of flowers you want at your funeral," etc...

The classroom soon emptied and it was just her and I. She smiled and said that I wasn't in any kind of trouble and that she just needed some help cleaning up. I was only slightly relieved as we started tidying the classroom up. While we worked she talked to me about everything.

Somehow she seemed to know that I was afraid to talk so she talked for both of us. She told me what it was like on her family farm and of the animals there. She talked about school, her love for kids and and how she became a teacher. I heard with loving detail stories of family and friends that I secretly longed for.

She began to keep me after school every day and I began to look forward to these sessions with this kind woman. Once she gave me a sparkly eraser and I kept it in my pocket for weeks fingering it with a smile on my face.

She encouraged me to read and showed me that not all adults were monsters. I was told that I could be someone, and if I really tried I could do anything that I wanted. She gave me hope.

Well I would like to say that was the start of a new life for me but it wasn't. I was soon moved back to the convent and I lost touch with Mrs. Shannon.

Eventually the department of social services moved me back with my dad as he and my mother had finally divorced. This proved to be a bad mistake and soon he began to drink and get violent. It all escalated until one June day when he took his own life in a fit of depression.

I kicked around after that, moving aimlessly through life until one day my sister called and said she found some things in the attic. In them were boxes of old toys and in one I found the sparkly eraser Mrs. Shannon had given me. I started to cry for this woman and the gift of kindness she had given me as a child.

I changed my life that day. I stopped drinking and started to write. I found God and have turned my life around completely now. I am married with a thirteen year-old daughter who also loves to write. I owe it to a lady who gave me my greatest gift as a child, kindness, hope and a sparkly eraser.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Aubichon Lives in Northern Saskatchewan with his wife Chantalle and daughter Charisa. His short stories have been published worldwide in many books and magazines such as Chicken Soup for the Soul, Catholic Digest, and A Cup Of Comfort. He is a copywriter for a major network Radio Station by day and in the evenings he lives out his childhood fantasy of playing drums in a rock and roll band. John can be contacted at drmrjohn@hotmail.com drop him a line, he'd love to hear from you!

THE FOUR BLESSED LOOKS

Look back and Thank God.
Look forward and Trust God.
Look around and Serve God.
Look within and Find God!

"I asked God, 'How do I get the best out of life?'

God said, 'Face your past without regrets. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear!'"

"Without God, our week is: Mournday, Tearsday, Wasteday, Thirstday, Fightday, Shatterday and Sinday. So, allow Him to be with you every day!"

"Life is short, so forgive quickly. Believe slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably. Never regret anything that makes you happy. And have a wonderful journey!!!"

Anonymous author

Are You a Croaker or A Leaper?

By Pamela Perry Blaine
© August 2005

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.
It is then burst into flame by an encounter
with another human being. We should all be thankful
for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.
- Albert Schweitzer

We don't often think about the effect that our words have upon others. Our words do have power and everything that we say has a positive or negative impact on others around us.

There is an old story that is told about an army* of frogs that went leaping through the forest one day when two of the frogs suddenly fell into a deep pit. All of the other frogs gathered around the hole to look down on their two fallen comrades. They all began to sadly shake their heads and to croak out dismal warnings. "It's too deep!" croaked one frog. Another croaked that there was no way that they would ever be able to get out of that pit alive.

The two fallen frogs began to continuously jump as they tried to get out of the pit, but the frogs that were watching kept croaking louder at them that they might as well stop because they were as good as dead and just wasting their time. One of the two frogs finally gave up and heeded the pessimistic advice of the frogs at the top. He quit jumping and literally "croaked" and died.

The other frog just kept right on jumping and leaping harder than ever in spite of all the loud croaks of disapproval from the frogs that were watching around the top of the hole. They kept croaking shouts at him to quit jumping and save himself from all the pain and suffering he was incurring as he leaped and fell back down to the bottom of the pit over and over again.

Finally, he leaped even harder than ever and to the surprise of all the other frogs he jumped right out of the deep pit. The other frogs asked him, "Why did you keep leaping even though we yelled and croaked at you to stop?" It was then that the frog explained to them that he was deaf and he had thought they were cheering for him and yelling words of encouragement to him the entire time!

A little encouragement can go a long way and as Babe Ruth once said, "It's hard to beat a person who never gives up."

Our words do have the power to hurt or to heal. What kind of frog are you? Are you a croaker or a leaper?


*Note of interest: A group of frogs is called "an army".

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Pamela and her husband live in Missouri, USA.She enjoys writing, music, and country living and writes "Pam's Corner" for the local newspaper. Many of her stories have been published on the internet, as well as in several books. She has loved music and writing ever since she can remember and plays piano at church and is an avid reader. One of her goals is to be able to write for my children and grandchildren, so special memories will not be forgotten.Pamela has a CD entitled "I'll Walk You Home". If you would like copies, they are available by freewill donation. More information as well as a clip from the CD please visit: http://blaines.us/PamyPlace.htm Contact Pam via e-mail: pamyblaine@blaines.us

7 Easy Creative Rituals to Spark Your Imagination and Inspire Your Soul

By Nancy Marmolejo

Creativity is a mysterious force that visits us with great ideas, new ways of seeing the world and the courage to do things differently. Revitalizing your creative talents will help you in the most unexpectedly wonderful ways: a new business idea, a renewed commitment to self-care, an appreciation for the beauty that lies all around us.

Finding a small bit of time each day to feed this force will not only reward you with increased creativity, but also an expanded sense of appreciation and gratitude for the creative process.

The following list highlights simple yet powerful actions you can take to spark your creative energy from the inside out.

1. Keep a Daily Journal.
Use a journal to jot down the meandering thoughts of your mind. Write, draw, doodle, paste collages together. Stuck between your great ideas are random thoughts, mental notes, and menial observations. Use your journal as a place to deposit these thoughts, keeping your creative mental workspace clear. Think of it as feng shui for the mind, a way of keeping the creative juices flowing.

2. Create Sacred Space.
Find a place in your home to keep inspiring, motivating and spiritually significant objects. Remind yourself that creativity flows like water and wind, that it is steadfast like earth and powerful like fire. Collect objects from nature to remind you of this. Place things that awe and inspire you, projects you're most proud of, and photos of people who support and encourage your creative action.

3. Reflection.
Reflection can be a minute of appreciating someone or something, or it can be a day of meditation and writing. Find ways to incorporate reflection into your daily routine, noting how experiences and interactions help you grow as a creative person. This is great for surveying what inspires you and what blocks you, what attracts you and what doesn't.

4. Get Away.
If you can, find some time to sneak away and enjoy a creative pleasure. It can be an hour wandering through a craft store, window shopping, a hike in nature or a visit to a special place. If you have kids and can't get away alone, don't worry. Enjoy the outing and reflect on it together. There are no rules to creative getaways. It is whatever touches you at that moment.

5. Do Something Loca.
What's something crazy you've always dreamed of doing but didn't because of insecurity, fear or intimidation? Make a pact with yourself to get to know your Inner Loca (or loco for you guys reading this) and find ways to let her out to play each and every day. Note: in Spanish, "loca" means crazy, but in this case it is the fun, wildly creative crazy that thrills our hearts, ignites our imaginations and takes us closer to turning our passion into reality. I use the word loca the same way others use the word "muse". It is the energy that fuels our best work and puts us in the creative zone.

6. See the World Through a Child's Eyes.
Children have the amazing ability to be open to the possibilities of just about anything. Give yourself playtime to see the world through the eyes of a child. Sometimes it can be simply sitting on the floor and looking at a room from a new angle, or giving yourself permission to laugh and have fun.

7. Chart Your Course.
It s one thing to dream of creative things and it s another thing to make them happen. Look at all the wonderful ideas you have and pick one to act upon. Make a commitment to do at least one daily action to support this idea. Doing the footwork to make your dream a reality will show you how easy it really is to turn ideas into action.

Ritual is a series of repeated acts. By incorporating creative ritual in your life, you will increase your innovation and creativity in ways that will surprise and delight you. Try at least one of these actions and feel your creativity grow!

Nancy Marmolejo helps creative and entrepreneurial women hone in on their core strengths to turn ideas into action. She helps both the wildly creative and the mildly creative launch innovative ideas, enter new markets and build upon natural talents. Visit Nancy Marmolejo on the web at ComadreCoaching.com to receive a free copy of 'Get Creative Now! Four Simple Tools to Boost Your Creativity from the Inside Out' and the award winning newsletter 'The Pocket Comadre'.

The Baggy Yellow Shirt

By Patricia Lorenz


The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away. "You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!"

"It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt be came a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.

The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.

The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!

And so the pattern was set.

On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up."

I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.

Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.

Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words "I BELONG TO PAT."

Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER."

But I didn't stop there. I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.

Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: "Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother."

That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: "I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me."

The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.

I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The "rest" of The Baggy Yellow Shirt story is that two years after Patricia married Harold they had a child together, right after her mother died of ALS. Then after 5 years, Harold left her for a woman with no children, married her the day of their divorce then died two years later. Patricia raised her four children as a single parent, had kids in college for 17 years in a row and is now an empty-nester living in Florida. Her four kids, their spouses and eight grandchildren live all over the country and enjoy visiting her in the land of sun, sand, sea, surf, seafoodand sensational sunsets.These days she keeps busy writing and speaking.She is the author of seven (soon to be 10) books andthe top-contributing writer in the country to the Chicken Soup for the Soul books with true stories in 30 of them. Patricia co-authored Chicken Soup for the Tea Lover's Soul and Chicken Soup for the Chocolate Lover's Soul.Visit her website www.PatriciaLorenz.com and contact her via email at PatriciaLorenz@juno.com

Humbling isn't it?

Most of us have an idea of the relative size of the planets and sun, but it's rather dazzling to see it presented this way.








I certainly thought this was enlightening. Didn't even realize we knew much beyond our sun...It's a big universe.





Anteres is the 15th biggest star in the sky. It is more than 1000 light years away.


Yet amidst all this, God knows when each sparrow falls. He cares about our smallest problem, our biggest hurt, our every joy. But we need to see our lives and ourselves in perspective. We aren't the center of the universe, GOD is. We don't own our next breath. GOD does. Humbling isn't it?

-

"Do not be afraid of the road ahead of you;
Set a goal to see yourself through;
What you have lost will come back;
It is never gone; Find your happiness,
Go on, Move on... "

From a forwarded e-mail

THE ACT AND ART OF GIVING

REGARDING HENRY

By Henrylito D. Tacio


While reading my favorite daily recently, I came across a news report that multi-awarded singer-actress Barbra Streisand donated US$5 million for research on women's cardiac problems, which kills half a million of American women every year.

"Women need to be educated about female cardiovascular disease, and the medical community must be propelled toward change," explained the Broadway singer who catapulted to stardom with her Oscar-winning 1968 performance in 'Funny Girl,' why she gave such huge amount.

If you were in her shoes, would you give such amount for a cause? Well, you don't have to be millionaire to give huge amount. Just give what you can afford. As Nobel Peace Prize winner Mother Teresa said, "If you can't feed a hundred people, then just feed one." Or as what an Arab proverb urges, "If you have much, give of your wealth; if you have little, give of your heart."

"Some people give time, some money, some their skills and connections, some literally give their life's blood. But everyone has something to give," says Barbara Bush. "You must give some time to your fellow men. Even if it's a little thing, do something for others - something for which you get no pay but the privilege of doing it," pointed out Albert Schweitzer.

Anne Frank, who wrote 'The Diary of Anne Frank,' stated, "No one has ever become poor by giving." To which British Prime Minister Winston Churchill added, "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."

"For it is in giving that we receive," reminded Saint Francis of Assisi. German-born American physicist Albert Einstein echoed the same sentiment. "The value of a man," he wrote, "resides in what he gives and not in what he is capable of receiving."

At one time, a rich man complained to his friend. "People don't like me," he said. "They say I'm selfish and stingy. And yet in my last will and testament, I have donated all that I own to a charitable institution."

Hearing his explanation, the friend told him. "Well, maybe the story of the cow and the pig has a lesson for you. The pig came to the cow and grumbled, 'People always talk about your friendliness. Well, it's true: you give them milk. But they get much more from me. They get ham and bacon and lard, and they even cook my feet. And yet – no one likes me. To all of them, I am just a pig. Why is that?'

"The cow thought it over a bit and then said, 'Perhaps it's because I give while I am still alive.'" This reminds me of a line from a Shaina Twain song, "It's important to give it all you have while you have the chance."

An open hand can receive but a closed hand cannot. The phrase has a Biblical ring, and a Biblical wisdom that applies profoundly to everyday human affairs. The man who will not share himself with his neighbors receives little friendship in return. The tight parental grip that holds children too closely, defeats its own purpose in the end. It is no accident, probably, that in many countries the symbol of totalitarianism is the one that you can't shake hands with: a clenched fist.

"To be sower of seeds, a man must open his hand," said Arthur Gordon. "He must do this, clearly, before he can reap. And the process doesn't stop there. To possess knowledge or wisdom, he must open his mind. If he wants to receive love, he must offer it – and to do this, he will need an open heart. A closed hand cannot receive – partly because it is shut, and nothing can get in. But mostly because it has nothing to give."

A very conscientious Christian lady looked back on her childhood in a big city. She was from a wealthy family and as she puts it, "The poor were our pets." On Sunday, it was the favorite charity of these superior Christians to make the rounds of the cells at the police station. The men in particular did this. They visited the week-end drunks, lectured them, forced them to take the pledge, and then bailed them out of jail so they would be back to work on Monday.

These do-gooders were smugly respectable, very visibly in a different moral category from those to whom they gave. They had only one fault: they never gave themselves. Lebanese-born American philosophical essayist Kahlil Gibran once wrote: "You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give."

Dr. Karl Meninnger, the famous psychiatrist, once gave a lecture on mental health and afterward answered questions from the audience. "What would you advise a person to do," asked one man, "if that person felt a nervous breakdown coming on?"

Most people expected the doctor to reply, "Consult a psychiatrist." To their astonishment, he replied, "Lock up your house, go across the highway, find someone in need, and do something to help that person."

"Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more," Anthony Robbins said.

Each of us has the responsibility to give. We get the best out of others when we give the best of ourselves. American philanthropist John D. Rockefeller Jr. urged, "Think of giving not as a duty but as a privilege." The Lord Jesus Christ himself said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

For comments, write me at henrytacio@gmail.com

From a forwarded e-mail