Wonderful Teacher

With a special gift for learning
And with a heart that deeply cares,
You add a lot of love
To everything you share,
And even though
You mean a lot,
You'll never know how much,
For you helped
To change the world
Through every life you touched.
You sparked the creativity
In the students whom you taught,
And helped them strive for goals
That could not be bought,
You are such a special teacher
That no words can truly tell
However much you're valued
For the work you do so well.

The Baby Eagle

Once upon a time there was a baby eagle living in a nest perched on a cliff overlooking a beautiful valley with waterfalls and streams, trees and lots of little animals, scurrying about enjoying their lives.

The baby eagle liked the nest. It was the only world he had ever known. It was warm and comfortable, had a great view, and even better, he had all the food and love and attention that a great mother eagle could provide. Many times each day the mother would swoop down from the sky and land in the nest and feed the baby eagle delicious morsels of food. She was like a god to him, he had no idea where she came from or how she worked her magic.

The baby eagle was hungry all the time, but the mother eagle would always come just in time with the food and love and attention he craved. The baby eagle grew strong. His vision grew very sharp. He felt good all the time.

Until one day, the mother stopped coming to the nest.

The baby eagle was hungry. "I'm sure to die," said the baby eagle, all the time.

"Very soon, death is coming," he cried, with tears streaming down his face. Over and over. But there was no one there to hear him.

Then one day the mother eagle appeared at the top of the mountain cliff, with a big bowl of delicious food and she looked down at her baby. The baby looked up at the mother and cried "Why did you abandon me? I'm going to die any minute. How could you do this to me?"

The mother said, "Here is some very tasty and nourishing food, all you have to do is come get it."

"Come get it!" said the baby, with much anger. "How?"

The mother flew away.

The baby cried and cried and cried.

A few days later, "I'm going to end it all," he said. "I give up. It is time for me to die."

He didn't know his mother was nearby. She swooped down to the nest with his last meal.

"Eat this, it's your last meal," she said.

The baby cried, but he ate and whined and whined about what a bad mother she was.

"You're a terrible mother," he said. Then she pushed him out of the nest.

He fell.

Head first.

Picked up speed.

Faster and faster.

He screamed. "I'm dying I'm dying," he cried. He picked up more speed.

He looked up at his mother. "How could you do this to me?"

He looked down.

The ground rushed closer, faster and faster. He could visualize his own death so clearly, coming so soon, and cried and whined and complained. "This isn't fair!" he screamed.

Something strange happens.

The air caught behind his arms and they snapped away from his body, with a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced. He looked down and saw the sky. He wasn't moving towards the ground anymore, his eyes were pointed up at the sun.

"Huh?" he said. "What is going on here!"

"You're flying," his mother said.

"This is fun!" laughed the baby eagle, as he soared and dived and swooped.

"Yes it is!" said the mother.

How to Maintain Your Love Relationship

In order to experience everlasting love in life, you ought to first figure out what is missing in your life and then fill in the gaps. People fall in and out of love because they expect their lovers to be everything to them and do everything for them. They then become dissatisfied when the partner fails to meet all their requirements. If you have a dream of achieving everlasting love you better create your very own life crowned by hobbies, interests and beneficial passions. This makes you a full lover when you enjoy a complete, interesting life on your own. Create a world of your own. On your to-do-list add forgiveness. It is always healthy to forgive while you can, disappointments and sadness is a part of life.

Some people find it hard to forgive their partners especially if they happened to catch them cheating on them. Seek professional help from a marriage and relationship counselor. This is an important move towards search for everlasting love. Most buried resentments are the cause to failed marriages and broken relationships. At one time they resurface and blow the present things out of proportion. To find a smooth sail in your love life you have to learn to forgive and move on with a clean slate. Accept changes when they arrive instead of fighting the reality. In life change is inevitable. At one time you will be loved, dumped, married, you will have children, become sick and die. You should acknowledge the happenings in life and move through them strongly. No matter how settled you might be it is good to know that things can change in an instant.

Always accept the unexpected. Always find Happiness in what you have and be grateful to own what you have. It is a great secret to everlasting love. Despite the greatest fear and uncertainties of the unknown, when the inevitable things happen you will look back on the good old times and wish that you had been more grateful when things were more colorful. To enjoy your love life you should give thanks every moment and learn to appreciate the small problems we experience because unknown to us they can get worse and some time they probably will. To experience how it feels to have everlasting love, create time for each other as lovers. Many people who are unhappy keep on postponing time to be together. People get caught up in the many and demanding daily activities and forget to get time to live for today.

It happens to me and you. There will always be more laundry, more house chores and more errands to be carried out. It is a routine where we retire to bed when we are very exhausted late at night only to awake and follow the same routine again the next day. To live life to the fullest stop at some point and take time for yourself and for each other too.  Today might be the only gift you have in life so live like there is no tomorrow. The precious moments we reckon in life are achieved by creating time for them against the much pressure of work. Create such short and fleeting moments everyday to enjoy everlasting love.

The Two Roads

It was New Year's Night. An aged man was standing at a window. He had already passed sixty of the stages leading to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse.

The days of his youth appeared like dreams before

 him, and he recalled the serious moment when his father placed him at the entrance of the two roads-one leading to a peaceful, sunny place, covered with flowers, fruits and resounding with soft, sweet songs；the other leading to a deep, dark cave, which was endless.

He looked towards the sky and cried painfully, ″O youth, return！O my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, and I'll choose the better way！″But both his father and the days of his youth had passed away.

The clock in the high church tower struck and the sound made him remember his parents' early love for him. They had taught him and prayed to God for his good. But he chose the wrong way. His darkened eyes were full of tears, and with a despairing effort, he burst out a cry: ″Come back, my early days！Come back！″

And his youth did return, for all this was only a dream which he had on New Year's Night.

Those who still linger on the entrance of life, hesitating to choose the bright road, remember that when years are passed and your feet stumble on the dark mountains, you will cry bitterly, but in vain: ″O youth, return！Oh give me back my early days！″

Work with the "Now"

There are some people who are completely happy with themselves, their lives, and their prospects for the future.

While they can be considered to be more fortunate than most, most who do not fall into that category are not as bad off

as they tend to believe. Instead, they are simply lacking something, or making mistakes, which are standing in the way

of their lives being as fulfilling as they would prefer. Some even go as far as to not realize the immense potential

they possess.

What is the main difference between those lucky individuals whose lives seem to be wonderfully on-track and those who,

often despite every step of trying on their part, appear to have all of the odds stacked against them? While in some

cases it is a matter of some people having better luck than others, those whose lives are content in the moment and

proceeding in the direction of their choice, do not live in the past.


Whether you are thinking about your personality or your life in general, success means focusing on the here-and-now.

While it is important to acknowledge the choices and experiences which resulted in you being where you are today, it is

equally important to not allow yourself to become so caught up in thoughts of the past that the present day passes you

by.

Self-motivation is the key to ensuring that you do not continue repeating the same mistakes. You may have had one or

more errors in judgment which led you to take the wrong path, or to make mistakes that were not in your best interest.

You can acknowledge this without rehashing them over and over again in your mind, and simply be determined to make

different, better decisions today.

Then is over; this is now. The less time and effort you put into looking at the past, the more you will have for living

and experiencing this day. You will also find that letting go of the past will give you a deeper sense of strength.

Instead of allowing past mistakes and worries to drain your energies, you will have a renewed energy to live your life

to the fullest and enjoy it more.

Being content with yourself and optimistic about your future is not difficult. Whatever is in the past is over; learn

from it and move on. When you are self-motivated enough to do this, you will see that moving ahead is the best

definition of living life.

With that said, what can you do now? Sure it is easy for me to tell you to forget the past, yet it is a whole different

practice to actually do it. Life is a complex set of events much of which of course is real, yet a large amount is just

your view of what really happened.

Let me explain with an example. I know not everyone is a football fan but I am guessing most have watched at least part

of a game on TV. Most plays and almost all the important plays are played over and over on the TV screen right after the

play happened.

How many times have you watched a play and were certain and I mean certain of the outcome, say the player caught a pass,

then watching the instant replay you realize you were totally wrong, the player dropped the pass. What you were certain

you saw, never happened.

The first step in trying to minimize the effects of your past in order to concentrate on your future is to find out how

much of the past that you are certain happened were just mistakes on your part.

A quick example might be as a teenager you tried to build a piece of furniture out of scrape wood in your father’s

workshop. The piece of furniture looked good when you finished but fell apart before you could show your father and you

assumed your were a lousy carpenter and the rest of your life you have avoided building anything. Yet the reality was

the scrap wood you used was faulty and not your building ability.

Yet the rest of your life you have believed mistakenly you are a poor builder of things.

The greatest of these is love

 My day began on a decidedly sour note when I saw my six-year-old wrestling with a limb of my azalea bush. By the

time I got outside, he'd broken it. "Can I take this to school today?" he asked. With a wave of my hand, I sent him off.

I turned my back so he wouldn't see the tears gathering in my eyes. I loved that azalea bush. I touched the broken limb

as if to say silently, "I'm sorry."

I wished I could have said that to my husband earlier, but I'd been angry. The washing machine had leaked on my brand-

new linoleum. If he'd just taken the time to fix it the night before when I asked him instead of playing checkers with

Jonathan. What are his priorities anyway? I wondered. I was still mopping up the mess when Jonathan walked into the

kitchen. "What's for breakfast, Mom?" I opened the empty refrigerator. "Not cereal," I said, watching the sides of his

mouth drop. "How about toast and jelly?" I smeared the toast with jelly and set it in front of him. Why was I so angry?

I tossed my husband's dishes into the sudsy water.

It was days like this that made me want to quit. I just wanted to drive up to the mountains, hide in a cave, and never

come out.

Somehow I managed to lug the wet clothes to the laundromat. I spent most of the day washing and drying clothes and

thinking how love had disappeared from my life. Staring at the graffiti on the walls, I felt as wrung-out as the clothes

left in the washers.

As I finished hanging up the last of my husband's shirts, I looked at the clock. 2:30. I was late. Jonathan's class let

out at 2:15. I dumped the clothes in the back seat and hurriedly drove to the school.

I was out of breath by the time I knocked on the teacher's door and peered through the glass. With one finger, she

motioned for me to wait. She said something to Jonathan and handed him and two other children crayons and a sheet of

paper.

What now? I thought, as she rustled through the door and took me aside. "I want to talk to you about Jonathan," she

said.

I prepared myself for the worst. Nothing would have surprised me. "Did you know Jonathan brought flowers to school

today?" she asked. I nodded, thinking about my favorite bush and trying to hide the hurt in my eyes. I glanced at my son

busily coloring a picture. His wavy hair was too long and flopped just beneath his brow. He brushed it away with the

back of his hand. His eyes burst with blue as he admired his handiwork. "Let me tell you about yesterday," the teacher

insisted. "See that little girl?" I watched the bright-eyed child laugh and point to a colorful picture taped to the

wall. I nodded.

"Well, yesterday she was almost hysterical. Her mother and father are going through a nasty divorce. She told me she

didn't want to live, she wished she could die. I watched that little girl bury her face in her hands and say loud enough

for the class to hear, 'Nobody loves me.' I did all I could to console her, but it only seemed to make matters worse."

"I thought you wanted to talk to me about Jonathan," I said.

"I do," she said, touching the sleeve of my blouse. "Today your son walked straight over to that child. I watched him

hand her some pretty pink flowers and whisper, 'I love you.'"

I felt my heart swell with pride for what my son had done. I smiled at the teacher. "Thank you," I said, reaching for

Jonathan's hand, "you've made my day."

Later that evening, I began pulling weeds from around my lopsided azalea bush. As my mind wandered back to the love

Jonathan showed the little girl, a biblical verse came to me: "...these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the

greatest of these is love." While my son had put love into practice, I had only felt anger.

I heard the familiar squeak of my husband's brakes as he pulled into the drive. I snapped a small limb bristling with

hot pink azaleas off the bush. I felt the seed of love that God planted in my family beginning to bloom once again in

me. My husband's eyes widened in surprise as I handed him the flowers. "I love you," I said.

Mother and child

It was Christmas 1961. I was teaching in a small town in Ohio where my twenty-seven third graders eagerly anticipated the great day of gifts giving.
A tree covered with tinsel and gaudy paper chains graced one corner. In another rested a manger scene produced from cardboard and poster paints by chubby, and sometimes grubby, hands. Someone had brought a doll and placed it on the straw in the cardboard box that served as the manger. It didn't matter that you could pull a string and hear the blue-eyed, golden-haired dolly say, "My name is Susie." "But Jesus was a boy baby!" one of the boys proclaimed. Nonetheless, Susie stayed.

Each day the children produced some new wonder -- strings of popcorn, hand-made trinkets, and German bells made from wallpaper samples, which we hung from the ceiling. Through it all she remained aloof, watching from afar, seemingly miles away. I wondered what would happen to this quiet child, once so happy, now so suddenly withdrawn. I hoped the festivities would appeal to her. But nothing did. We made cards and gifts for mothers and dads, for sisters and brothers, for grandparents, and for each other. At home the students made the popular fried marbles and vied with one another to bring in the prettiest ones. " You put them in a hot frying pan, Teacher. And you let them get real hot, and then you watch what happens inside. But you don't fry them too long or they break." So, as my gift to them, I made each of my students a little pouch for carrying their fried marbles. And I knew they had each made something for me: bookmarks carefully cut, colored, and sometimes pasted together; cards and special drawings; liquid embroidery doilies, hand-fringed, of course.
The day of gift-giving finally came. We oohed and aahed over our handiwork as the presents were exchanged. Through it all, she sat quietly watching. I had made a special pouch for her, red and green with white lace. I wanted very much to see her smile. She opened the package so slowly and carefully. I waited but she turned away. I had not penetrated the wall of isolation she had built around herself.
After school the children left in little groups, chattering about the great day yet to come when long-hoped-for two-wheelers and bright sleds would appear beside their trees at home. She lingered, watching them bundle up and go out the door. I sat down in a child-sized chair to catch my breath, hardly aware of what was happening, when she came to me with outstretched hands, bearing a small white box, unwrapped and slightly soiled, as though it had been held many times by unwashed, childish hands. She said nothing. "For me?" I asked with a weak smile. She said not a word, but nodded her head. I took the box and gingerly opened it. There inside, glistening green, a fried marble hung from a golden chain. Then I looked into that elderly eight-year-old face and saw the question in her dark brown eyes. In a flash I knew -- she had made it for her mother, a mother she would never see again, a mother who would never hold her or brush her hair or share a funny story, a mother who would never again hear her childish joys or sorrows. A mother who had taken her own life just three weeks before.
I held out the chain. She took it in both her hands, reached forward, and secured the simple clasp at the back of my neck. She stepped back then as if to see that all was well. I looked down at the shiny piece of glass and the tarnished golden chain, then back at the giver. I meant it when I whispered," Oh, Maria, it is so beautiful. She would have loved it." Neither of us could stop the tears. She stumbled into my arms and we wept together. And for that brief moment I became her mother, for she had given me the greatest gift of all: herself.