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The King With Four Wives

Once upon a time....there was a rich king who had four wives. He loved the fourth wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to the finest delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best. He also loved the third wife very much and showed her off to neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared that one day she would leave him for another.

He also loved the second wife. She was his confidante and was always kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her to help him get through the difficult times.

The King's first wife was a very loyal partner and had made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and kingdom. However, he did not love the first wife and although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her.

One day, the King fell ill and he knew that his time was short.

In Truth, we all have four wives in our lives:

Our 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look great, it'll leave us when we die.
Our 3rd wife is our possessions, status and wealth. When we die it will all go to others.
Our 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.
Our 1st wife is our Soul, often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures of the ego. However, our Soul is the only thing that will follow us wherever we go. So cultivate, strengthen and cherish it now! It is your greatest gift to offer the world.

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WORK WORK WORK

A long time ago, there was an Emperor who told his horseman that if he could ride on his horse and cover as much land area as he likes, then the Emperor would give him the area of land he has covered.

One day when we look back , we will realize that we don't really need that much, but then we cannot turn back time for what we have missed.

Life is not about making money, acquiring power or recognition . Life is definitely not about work! Work is only necessary to keep us living so as to enjoy the beauty and pleasures of life. Life is a balance of Work and Play, Family and Personal time. You have to decide how you want to balance your Life. Define your priorities, realize what you are able to compromise but always let some of your decisions be based on your instincts. Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of Life, the whole aim of human existence.

So, take it easy, do what you want to do and appreciate nature. Life is fragile, Life is short. Do not take Life for granted. Live a balanced lifestyle and enjoy Life!

Watch your thoughts ; they become words.	Watch your words ; they become actions.
Watch your actions ; they become habits.	Watch your habits; they become character .

Watch your character; it becomes your destiny .

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Tired & Overworked  !!!!

For a couple years I've been blaming it on lack of sleep and too much pressure from my job, but now I found out the real reason: I'm tired because I'm overworked!	The population of this country is 237 million. 104 million are retired.
That leaves 133 million to do the work. There are 85 million in school, which leaves 48 million to do the work.	Of this there are 29 million employed by the federal government, leaving 19 million to do the work. 2.8 million are in the Armed Forces, which leaves 16.2 million to do the work.
Take from the total the 14,800,000 people who work for State and City Governments and that leaves 1.4 million to do the work. At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals, leaving 1,212,000 to do the work. Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.	That leaves just two people to do the work. You and me. And YOU are sitting at your computer reading jokes...

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Deux Questions
* Première question :  
Supposons que vous connaissiez une femme qui est enceinte, mais qui  a déjà huit enfants, dont trois sourds, deux aveugles et un  mentalement attarde; de plus, cette femme a la syphilis. 
Lui recommanderiez-vous d'avorter ?  
Répondez mentalement, puis lisez la seconde question.  
 
* Deuxième question :  
Il est temps d'élire le Président du Monde, et votre vote sera déterminant. Voici les données concernant les trois principaux candidats: 

Le candidat 'A' est associé à des politiciens véreux et consulte des astrologues. Il a eu deux maîtresses. Il fume comme une cheminée et  boit huit à dix martinis par jour.  
Le candidat 'B' a déjà été viré deux fois, il dort jusqu'à midi, fumait de l'opium au collège et boit un quart de litre de whisky chaque soir.    
Le candidat 'C' est un héros de guerre médaillé. Il est végétarien, boit une bière occasionnellement et n'a jamais eu d'histoires extra-conjugales.    
Parmi ces trois candidats, lequel choisiriez-vous (honnêtement) ? 

Faites d'abord votre choix, ne trichez pas, puis lisez la réponse (voir ci-dessous)

Le candidat 'A' est Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Le candidat 'B' est Winston Churchill.
Le candidat 'C' est Adolf Hitler.  

Comme quoi, il faut toujours se méfier des personnes qui ont une  vie trop saine... 

...Au fait, a propos de la question de l'avortement: si vous avez  répondu "oui", vous venez de tuer Beethoven.

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   Is Your Hut Burning?
 
   The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small,  uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.
 
   Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky.
   The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.
 
   Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. 
   "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.
 
   It is easy to get discouraged when things are going bad. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.
   Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground ----it just may be a smoke signal that summons grace of God.

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PEOPLE ARE OFTEN UNREASONABLE, ILLOGICAL, AND SELF-CENTERED;
FORGIVE THEM ANYWAY.

IF YOU ARE KIND, PEOPLE MAY ACCUSE YOU OF SELFISH, ULTERIOR MOTIVES;
BE KIND ANYWAY.

IF YOU ARE SUCCESSFUL, YOU WILL WIN SOME FALSE FRIENDS AND SOME TRUE ENEMIES;
SUCCEED ANYWAY.

IF YOU ARE HONEST AND FRANK, PEOPLE MAY CHEAT YOU;
BE HONEST AND FRANK ANYWAY.

WHAT YOU SPEND YEARS BUILDING, SOMEONE COULD DESTROY OVERNIGHT;
BUILD ANYWAY.

IF YOU FIND SERENITY AND HAPPINESS, THEY MAY BE JEALOUS;
BE HAPPY ANYWAY.

THE GOOD YOU DO TODAY, PEOPLE WILL OFTEN FORGET TOMORROW;
DO GOOD ANYWAY.

GIVE THE WORLD THE BEST YOU HAVE, AND IT MAY NEVER BE ENOUGH.
GIVE THE WORLD THE BEST YOU'VE GOT ANYWAY.

YOU SEE, IN THE FINAL ANALYSIS, IT IS BETWEEN YOU AND ME, YOUR GOD;
IT WAS NEVER BETWEEN YOU AND THEM ANYWAY.

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Christ Was Love

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I had cut back on nonessential obligations-extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending.  Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old.  For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant."  I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production.

Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher.  She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation. All parents unable to attend
that evening were welcome to come then.

Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise.

So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in 10 minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down.  Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly  scampering to their seats.  As I waited, the students were led into the room.  Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor.  Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.

Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas", I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment, songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love", I was slightly taken aback by its bold title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.  Those in the front row-center stage held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.

As the class would sing "C is for Christmas", a child would hold up theletter C. Then, "H is for Happy", and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love".

The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her- a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down -- totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W". The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake.  But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".

Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together. A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen.  In that instant, we understood-the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:

"CHRIST WAS LOVE."

And ... He still is.

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Jesus Magic!
Concentrate on the little dots about 10 seconds
then look at the wall of your room,
blinking your eyes...
What you'll see????

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A  CHRISTMAS  STORY

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.

It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted so bad that year for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. So after supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up the big sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me."

The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on. When we had exchanged the sideboards Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked,"what are you doing?"
You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her
with three children, the oldest being eight.

Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "why?" "I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood,Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked.
"Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour,so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us. It shouldn't have been our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.

We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?" Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her
shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last.

I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out. "We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said, then he turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up."

I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and, much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks and so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy filled my soul that I'd never known before. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people. I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord himself has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes. Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by over to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two older brothers and two older sisters were all married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, 'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. So, Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Just then the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

Hoang Manh Nguyen

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Santa Claus, is it real ?
by Priscilla Tran, 6th Grade

When I was at school, my friends and I were talking about Christmas. My friends Ramona ask if I still believe in Santa Claus. I didn’t want to tell my friends that I did, so I lied and answered, "No way!" I said that because I didn’t want to be unpopular. I know Santa Claus was real because ever year Santa Claus ate all my homemade delicious cookies I always bake.

I believe in him so much I just can’t make my friends laugh about me still believing him.

I felt bad for what I said so I went home to talk to my mom. She was always they’re when I needed a person to ask.

"Mom, is Santa Claus real?" I questioned mom.
"Sure, why do you ask if Santa Claus is real? He always brings you presents every year." Replied my mom. "But darling why do you ask such nonsense question?"

"Well, today at school I told all my friends I didn’t believe in Santa Claus just to stay popular." I told mom.

Three days till Christmas I went Christmas shopping. I got fantastic gifts for my dad, mom, and Jack my older brother. I even got one gift for Santa Claus. I got him a new Santa Claus coat.

My friend Ramona ask, "Who are you getting that coat for?"
"Oh, it is for my dad’s friend?" I said.
"I bet your dad’s friend is pretty jolly?" laughed Ramona

Christmas Eve came and I left every presents under the Christmas tree. I left my homemade cookies and chocolate milk for Santa Claus and said good night to my older brother Jack and went to bed.

"Do you know Santa Claus isn’t real?" Said my brother.
"What are you talking about, if Santa Claus is not real who eats all my cookies and drink all the chocolate milk I do every Christmas?" I screamed.
"Santa is not real! He is fake!" replied Jack. You’ll see.

At 11 P.M Jack woke me up and took me to go to the living room.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.
"Santa Claus is really dad?" whispered Jack.

Jack was right. Right there in front of me there was dad eating all my homemade cookies and drinking the chocolate milk and putting all the presents under the Christmas tree.

I walked up to my dad and breathed slowly, "Dad thanks for faking Santa Claus every year but now it is okay not to be Santa Claus. But now you can go to your room and sleep. You don’t need to be Santa Claus any more."

I walked back to my room and cried. All these presents were from my dad Santa Claus. I went back to the Christmas tree and took the gift I was going to give to Santa Claus and threw it away. That night was the last night I ever believed in Santa Claus again, because of Jack.

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HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMASM

INSPIRATION
Why JESUS Is Better Than Santa Claus!
Santa lives at the North Pole ...
JESUS is everywhere.

Santa rides in a sleigh ...
JESUS rides on the wind and walks on the water.
Santa comes but once a year ...
JESUS is an ever present help.

Santa fills your stockings with goodies ...
JESUS supplies all your needs.
Santa comes down your chimney uninvited ...  JESUS stands at your door and
knocks, and then enters your heart when invited.
You have to wait in line to see Santa ...
JESUS is as close as the mention of His name.
Santa lets you sit on his lap ...
JESUS lets you rest in His arms.

Santa doesn't know your name, all he can say is "Hi little boy or girl,
what's your name?" ...
JESUS knew our name before we were born.
Not only does He know our name,
He knows our address too.
He knows our history and future and
He even knows how many hairs are on our heads.

Santa has a belly like a bowl full of jelly ...
JESUS has a heart full of love
All Santa can offer is HO HO HO ...
JESUS offers health, help and hope.

Santa says "You better not cry" ...
JESUS says "Cast all your cares on me for I care for you."
Santa's little helpers make toys ...
JESUS makes new life, mends wounded hearts, repairs broken homes and builds mansions.
Santa may make you chuckle but ...
JESUS gives you joy that is your strength.
While Santa puts gifts under your tree ...
JESUS became our gift and died on a tree.... The Cross.
We need to put Christ back in CHRISTmas, Jesus is still the reason for the season!

John 3:16 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.
Author Unknown, forwarded by Thomas Duong

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FAMILY

Do you know what the word FAMILY means?
FAMILY = (F)ATHER (A)ND (M)OTHER, (I) (L)OVE (Y)OU!

forwarded by Tung, lasalle95

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The Cab Driver

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.

What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep. But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers," I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you".

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.

Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient at the end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said...but they will always remember how you made them feel.

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PERSONALITY TEST

Here's an interesting psychology-type test. Give it a try, and keep scrolling for all the instructions. Now don't cheat! Take this test for yourself, and send it to your friends, including the person who sent it to you, putting your score in the subject box. Don't peek, but begin the test as you scroll down and answer as you go.

Answer for who you are NOW, not who you were in the past. Have pen or pencil and paper ready. This is a real test given by the Human Relations Department at many major corporations today. It helps them get a better insight concerning their employees and potential employees. It's only 10 simple questions, so grab a pencil and paper, keeping track of your letter answers, and have fun!

Ready??

Begin

POINTS:

Now add up the total number of points.

OVER 60 POINTS:
Others see you as someone they should "handle with care". You're seen as vain, self-centered, and extremely dominant. Others may admire you, wishing they could be more like you,but don't always trust you, hesitating to become too deeply deeply involved with you.

51 TO 60 POINTS:
Others see you as an exciting, highly volatile, rather impulsive personality, a natural leader, who's quick to make decisions, though not always the right ones. They see you as bold and adventuresome, someone who will try anything once; someone who takes chances and enjoys an adventure. They enjoy being in your company because of the excitement you radiate.

41 TO 50 POINTS:
Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical and always interesting, someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head.They also see you as kind, considerate, a little too generous at times, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.

31 TO 40 POINTS:
Others see you as sensible, cautious, careful and practical. They see you as clever, gifted, or talented, but modest. Not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily, but someone who's extremely loyal to friends you do make and who expects the same loyalty in return. Those who really get to know you realize it takes a lot to shake your trust on your friends, but equally that it takes you a long time to get over it if that trust is ever broken.

21 TO 30 POINTS:
Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It would really surprise them if you ever did something impulsive or everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it. They think this reaction is caused partly by your careful nature.

UNDER 21 POINTS:
People think you are shy, nervous, and indecisive, someone who needs looking after, who always wants someone else to make the decisions and who doesn't want to get involved with anyone or anything. They see you as a worrier who always sees problems that don't exist. Some people think you're boring. Only those who know you well know that you aren't

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Tel Père - Tel Fils/Telle Fille!
Exemplary Dad

Life's Pathway
Essay on the theme "What My Father Means to Me"
for the 2001 Houston Astros/Academy Sports & Outdoors Father of the Year Essay Contest
by Mary Swanniutt, "one of the two runners-up" in her grade level

What is the meaning of life? Some believe the future depends solely on ones actions while others believe each person’s path is preordained. As a child, I definitely inquired my dad about the limits of the sky and the cheesiness of the moon. But that one question is held quite dear to my heart. It was of no precocious origin on my part; I had heard the question on TV, and, like other young children, I loved bombarding my dad with incessant questions. Yet, to my surprise, he didn’t have direct answer, as he usually did.

Not once did he ever ignore my questions. He truly valued my thoughts; and with his kindness and patience, he provided me the self-confidence I needed to excel in life.

With this question, however, he merely chuckled gently and said that he would tell me later. My dad never deprived me of anything that he thought was worthwhile, so I figured my question was of no great importance.

Ididn’t realize until much later that he discreetly answered my question daily. He taught me I should always try my best, no matter what anyone else’s best was. He said I should treat others the way I would like to be treated - it was only fair. Strive to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is, for in the end, God knows our efforts. But most of all, he never let me forget he loved me, and he always would, no matter what I did.

Although the topic of life’s pathway is still debatable, there is no doubt through that one question, my father taught me wonders. The inquiry of the meaning of life still lies unrequited. Yet, for this father and his little girl, an unconditional love is enough of an answer.

Questions for "Exemplary Dad"

OPEN ENDED QUESTIONS

1. What is the single most important thing you do as a father for your kids?
2. Describe your relationship with your kids?
3. In what specific ways do you participate in the lives of your children?
4. What has been the greatest difficulty you have faced in your fathering?
5. What advice would you give to a young father who wants to become a better dad?
6. Your child wrote an essay describing you. How would you describe him or her?

Below are the answers of Mary's Dad, Mr. [Donatien] Alan Swannuitt, which have been selected as the best by the National Center Fathering

1. What is the single most important thing you do as a father for your kids?

The single most important thing I do as a father for my children (a 18-year-old girl and a 24-year-old boy) is to evidence my unconditional love for them. That is, I want Maiy and William to understand and realize that I love them no matter how they are —be they right or wrong; that I love them no matter when they please or displease me; that I love them whether they succeed or suffer a fiasco; that I love them when lauding them for good deeds or reprimanding them for misdeeds, and thereby encouraging them to always try their very best no matter what anyone else’s best is. Ultimately, I love them unconditionally because I believe they come through me from God, the Creator who made them “in his image” (Gen. I, 26f). And unconditionally do I love my children because it’s my duty to help them keep their divine image untarnished and growingly beautified. Also, equally and integrally important is my bearing evidence of my unconditional love for their mother, my wife.

2. Describe your relationship with your kids.

Respect and friendship are basic to my relationship with my children because I consider them invaluable gifts that God has entrusted to my care. Thus, as the Lord’s steward, I am to provide them with means to grow physically and intellectually, and to mature emotionally and spiritually.

3. In what specefic ways do you participate in the lives of your children?

I need to manage my time to have as much quality time as I can for and with my children, particularly during their infancy and pre-teen age years. I need to have time to talk to them, and, more importantly, to listen to them. We parents are so obsessed with the duty of raising our children in “lecturing” them with “dos” and “don’ts” that we overlook or belittle the other component of upbringing, viz., playing with our children. I deem the latter highly efficient in educative approach.

4. What has been the greatest difficulty you have faced in your fathering?

Mary and William are the first generation born to immigrant parents. They’re Americans by birth; they speak English as their mother tongue —and their parent’s language as a second language; they are schooled in the American system and well involved in the mainstream of the American society. But willy-mlly, their roots are in their parents’ ethnic heritage, which makes them dubbed Vietnamese-Americans. That’s not their problem; that is rather part of the beauty and richness of this nation -chiefly composed of immigrants and immigrants’ children and grandchildren. As far as parenting is concerned, that is our problem or more truly, our challenge because it’s required a great deal of sensibility and sensitivity to help our children grow into well-balanced entities, i.e., fullfledged Americans who value their cultural heritage and are proud of their Vietnamese ethnicity. I must confess it’s not an easy task.

5. What advice would you give to a young father who wants to become a better dad?

The following rather reflects what I have tried, to the best of my endeavor, to do in my fathering duty. In light of my 24-year fathering experience, I believe I could be a better dad had I had a chance of starting anew this noble duty.

    1. A prerequisite: unconditional love for our children is basic to fathering.
    2. In line with the aforesaid axiom, we must accept our children for what they are. Such an acceptance doesn’t mean surrender to helping them to change. An English philosopher wrote: “To live is to change. And to live well is to have changed often,” which Sani Walton, founder of Wal-Mart and Sam’s Wholesale Club echoed saying: “The most powerful force in human nature is the resistance to change. In this world, if you want to succeed, you must change.”
    3. Be patient, understanding, compassionate.
    4. Spare our time so as to have quality time for our children: talking with them, and, more importantly, listening to them, sharing their feelings, participating —but not interfering- in their activities, as needed.
    5. Value playing with our children because it is an efficient educative approach.
    6. Integrity: resist the temptation of lecturing them with a litany of “dos” and “don’ts”, but rather be exemplary: “Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying” (Ralph Waldo Emerson).
    7. Train our children in problem-solving and decision-making skills.
    8. Help them identify and reinforce their areas of strength and thereby become self-confident and self-reliant
    9. Never compare our children with each other, or ours with anyone else’s, for it is just unfair and always baseless because there is no reference base for such comparison due to the fact that we are all different from each other. Other people could be a motivational factor to our behavior, but not a point of comparison.
    10. Encourage them to always try their best, no matter what anyone else’s best is. Tell them the importance of self-comparison by being in some respects better today than yesterday, this year than yesteryear.

6. Your child wrote an essay describing you. How would you describe him or her?

If I were asked to choose three words best describing Mary, I would choose those:

    1. ALTRUISM.
Mary is generous caring for the good of others. She has the ability to well interface with people; she likes to volunteer in community work —be it civic or religious.

    2. HIGH I.Q. Coupled With HARD WORK.
Mary, an Honor Roll Student, has proven records of academic success. A high I.Q. is an indicator of higher degree of intelligence and, to a certain extent, a catalyst for academic success. A high I.Q., I believe, is a catalytic factor for success in livelihood. But while in the academic success the I word stands for intelligence, the I word for a successful livelihood means “Imagination, Initiative, Industriousness”(I3). It is promising that Mary will succeed in her livelihood because it is proven she’s also endowed with an I3.

    3. SELF-RELIANCE.
Mary knows her strengths to develop and is not afraid to recognize her shortcomings to work on her self-improvement.

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What is Life?
by ChiQuan

When I pick up a person from the street, hungry, I give him a plate of rice, a piece of bread. But a person who is shut out, who feels unwanted, unloved, terrified, the person who has been thrown out of society - that spiritual poverty is much harder to overcome. Those who are materially poor can be very wonderful people. One evening we went out and we picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition. I told the Sisters: "You take care of the other three; I will take care of the one who looks worse."

So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was such a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand, as she said one word only: "Thank you" - and she died.

I could not help but examine my conscience before her. And I asked: "What would I say if I were in her place?" And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself. I would have said: "I am hungry, I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain," or something. But she gave me much more - she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face.

Then there was the man we picked up from the drain, half eaten by worms and, after we had brought him to the home, he only said, "I have lived like an animal in the street, but I am going to die as an angel, loved and cared for." Then, after we had removed all the worms from his body, all he said, with a big smile, was: "Sister, I am going home to God" - and he died. It was so wonderful to see the greatness of that man who could speak like that without blaming anybody, without comparing anything. Like an angel - this is the greatness of people who are spiritually rich even when they are materially poor....

Life

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is bliss, taste it.
Life is a dream, realise it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is costly, care for it.
Life is wealth, keep it.
Life is love, enjoy it.
Life is mystery, know it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.

Mother Teresa

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Yes! We Are Friends
thinking of each other

	Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word, maybe this could explain:
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do - you forward jokes.
	When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep in contact, you forward jokes.
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.
	To let you know that: you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, you are still wanted, guess what you get? A forwarded joke from me.
So my friend, next time if you get a joke, don't think that I have sent you just a joke, but that...
	I Have Thought of You Today!
Send This To Your Friends And Let Them Know You're Always Thinking About Them And Don't Forget To Send It Back Your Friend Who Send It To You...Let Them Know You're Thinking About Them Too!!

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L'histoire de la boîte à baisers !

Il y a de cela plusieurs années, un père punit sa fillette de 3 ans pour avoir inutilement dépensé un rouleau de papier doré. L'argent se faisait rare et il ne put supporter que la fillette utilisa le papier pour décorer une boîte à cadeaux pour occuper le dessous de l'arbre de Noël.

Le lendemain matin, la petite enfant apporta le cadeau à son père en lui disant : "C'est pour toi Papa!".

Embarrassé, son père regretta sa trop vive réaction.

Toutefois, elle se raviva et ne fit qu'empirer quand il découvrit que la boîte était vide. Il cria alors à sa fille :"Ne sais-tu pas qu'en offrant un paquet-cadeau, il doit toujours y avoir quelque chose dans la boîte ?".

La fillette regarda son père les yeux pleins de larmes et lui dit :"Mais papa, la boîte n'est pas vide, je l'ai remplie de baisers juste pour toi !".

Le père était chaviré. Il enlace sa fille, la priant de lui pardonner sa réaction.

Peu de temps après, un accident vint faucher la fillette.

Le père garda longtemps la boîte, tout près de son lit.

A chaque fois que le découragement l'assaillait, il prenait la boite, en tirait un baiser imaginaire et se rappelait l'amour que l'enfant y avait mis.

Au fond, cette fable nous rappelle qu'il est donné à chacun de nous, comme humain, de disposer d'une telle boîte dorée, remplie d'amour inconditionnel et de baisers de nos enfants, de nos ami(e)s, de notre famille.

Existe-t-il de plus grands cadeaux ?

"Les amis sont comme des anges qui nous remettent en position quand nos ailes ne se souviennent plus comment voler."

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NEGATIVE EMOTIONS

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