I want one of those.

thanks!

"The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other. And maybe each time, we've been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a goodbye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come."

[Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook]




"I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that."

[Brian Andreas]



"You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection!"

[Gautama Buddha]

While you are away from me,
When we must be apart;

Take these words I give to you,
And tuck them in your heart.


Keep them there inside of you,
For only you to hear;

Then if you're ever lonely,
Just know that I am near.


You are the very sunshine,
That shines into my soul;

The value of a smile from you,
Worth more than diamonds and gold.


You are the inspiration,
That causes me to soar;

And with each passing moment,
I only love you more.


You are the song with in me,
The rhythm and the rhyme;

A song that grows much sweeter,
With the passing time.


So take these tender spoken words,
And tuck them in your heart;

Then as long as my heart beats for you,
We'll never be apart.


[Allison Chambers Coxsey]

"Just Around The Bend" [by Nancy Bronner]


Hurt, anger, confusion and pain
Sometimes it feels like I'm going insane

These feelings you see are very well known
For my life anymore feels like a battle zone


This Agony I can no longer bear
Oh please someone help me, I Need Air!

Help me breathe again and ease this chest pain
And teach me again how to live in the mundane


The break of my heart
And the drops of my tears

With wishes of having
my loved one here


It's a cold, dark and dismal place
Never again to see one's face

Asking over and over, "Can this be real?"
So at that time, I began to kneel


I asked that you give me some hope with a sign
And what do you know, it began to shine

The light shown down upon my head
And this is what I heard being said...Life
philosophy stories


"Stand up, Stand tall
I will not let you fall
I love you with all my might.


It may not make sense
but please do not wince

For one day we will reunite.


So this sign to you I send
to know that just around the bend
everything will be alright


And know that I am there
when you think that you can't bear
because there will always be a light."

"The Brick"


A young and successful executive was travelling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something.


As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and drove the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car, shouting, 'What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?'


The young boy was apologetic, 'Please mister ... please, I'm sorry... I didn't know what else to do,' he pleaded. 'I threw the brick because no one else would stop...'


With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. 'It's my brother,' he said. 'He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up.' Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, 'Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me.'


Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out his fancy handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay.


'Thank you and may God bless you,' the grateful child told the stranger.


Too shaken up for words, the man simply watched the little boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home. It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!



God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us.



[Source: 'Unknown']

"He Never Missed a Game" - "Moving Life Story"


Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion, shares a moving story about a skinny young boy who loved football with all his heart.


Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But being half the size of the other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever played.


This teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the son was always On the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game. This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to encourage him but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he didn't want to.


But the young man loved football and decided to hang in there He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through high school he never missed a practice nor a game but remained a bench-warmer all four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him. When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team as a "walk-on." Everyone was sure he could never make the cut, but he did.


The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster because he always puts his heart and soul to every practice, and at the same time, provided the other members with the spirit and hustle they badly needed.


The news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and was sent season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in a game.


It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field shortly before the big playoff game, the coach met him with a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent. Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, 'My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?' The coach put his arm gently around his shoulder and said, 'Take the rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday.'


Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well. In the third quarter, when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful teammate back so soon. 'Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today,' said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close playoff game. But the young man persisted, and finally feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in.


All right,' he said. 'You can go in.' Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked, and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fans broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you never heard.


Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that this young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone The coach came to him and said, 'Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"'


He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said, 'Well, you knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?'


The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, 'Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!'

hi JOHNN bear
just paying a visit

"Enjoy This Heartwarming Story about an Elephant" [Source: 'Unknown']


In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University .


On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.


The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.


He got down on one knee, inspected the elephants foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it.


As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.


The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.


Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled.


Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.


Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.


Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenage son.


As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing.


The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down.


The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.


Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter could not help wondering if this was the same elephant.


Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing, and made his way into the enclosure.


He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.


The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.


NB: Probably wasn't the same elephant..

^^^^^ Hahaha! I hate it when that happens

lmfao. I'm a precious cinnamon roll.

morning

"The power of a grieving mother. . ."



"There are no words that can adequately describe how I feel. After losing Autumn, I promised myself that I would do whatever I had to do to ensure that other families didn't have to suffer the way that we did. My hope is that with this law we can start to make a real difference and improve stillbirth outcomes here in NJ. However, this is just the beginning. I would ideally love to see the Autumn Joy Stillbirth Research and Dignity Act serve as a model for legislation to be passed in other states." - Debra Haines Vijayvergiya


"Here is Autumn Joy'��s story:"



285 grams. That is what our baby weighed when they performed the autopsy. "Baby," "dead," "autopsy" - three words that are not meant to go together.


But for me, they did. And I am not alone. Fetal demise, more commonly known as stillbirth, causes approximately 26,000 deaths a year in the United States;�� more than the deaths resulting from SIDS and congenital anomalies combined.


I have been pregnant four times and have one child. I had not heard of fetal demise until last summer, when, 22 weeks into my pregnancy, my obstetrician could not detect my unborn baby'��s heartbeat.


It started off as a regular checkup. That is, until the heart beat monitor on my belly failed to register anything. The silence was enough to make my own heart stop.


I finally heard something and I practically screeched in delight. But the doctor told me I was hearing my heartbeat, not my baby'��s. As I started to cry, she suggested that we do an ultrasound because sometimes the baby can lie in an awkward position, making it harder to detect the heartbeat.


As she called the nurse, I could feel the pounding of my heart increasing with the escalating panic in her voice. I was breathless as I stared into the black silence of the ultrasound monitor. No sign of life. It was any expectant mother'��s worst nightmare.


After repeatedly telling me how sorry she was, the doctor left me alone to make "my calls." I couldn't comprehend how, in a matter of minutes, I had gone from blissfully pregnant to having a lifeless baby inside me.


How could I pick up the phone and call my husband? What words could I possibly use to tell him our baby was gone?


My husband found me 30 minutes later, frozen on the examination table. Without much time to let this news register, we had to decide on a plan of action. The baby had to come out. My initial reaction was that I could not, would not, deliver this child. Delivering a baby was the definition of life and I could not give birth to a lifeless baby.


Before I knew it, I heard myself inquiring about an autopsy. "Autopsy"- it just rolled off my tongue. It dawned on me that if we did an autopsy, then I could find out what had happened. And finding out what happened was the only way to make sense of the senseless. It was at that moment I realized delivering the baby was my only choice.


As I waited in a hospital room, the day wore on in a blur- doctors, nurses, psychiatrists and social workers. Who knew there were so many decisions involved with birthing a "sleeping" baby? Do we want to hold the baby, do we want the baby to stay in the room, do we want pictures of the baby/with the baby, do we want hand/footprints, funeral, etc.? How did they expect us to make such decisions under such duress? For us, it was the equivalent of someone saying, "Your family member just passed, would you like us to make hand-prints in order to commemorate them?" It was an inconceivable idea that we didn't understand at the time. We said no to them all. The impending birth was more than we could handle.


About 4 a.m., I turned to my sleeping husband and informed him that it was "time." I remember the hot tears streaming down my face, feeling as if I wanted to die and the kind voices coaxing me to keep pushing.


I felt so alone, so cheated, so very broken. I felt like a failure as a wife and mother. The autopsy showed that our daughter was perfectly healthy but had died due to a stricture in the umbilical cord, which resulted in her oxygen source being cut off.


I certainly wasn't ready to face the world with what had happened. And as I quickly found out, it wasn't just me who was unprepared to handle this. The medical staff didn't know what to say or how to say it. Friends and family were unsure of how to approach the subject. I think most felt that if I looked together, I was together, reinforcing silence as the default approach in coping with the situation.


The topic of stillbirth is taboo in our society and we have a tendency to pretend it doesn't happen, so we don't talk about it. This has to change. Thousands of families endure the pain and trauma of stillbirth every year, and until we as a society acknowledge this and talk openly about it, health care professionals, friends, family and patients will remain unprepared to help their loved ones.


Federal agencies invest in research to study the causes of stillbirth and find ways to prevent deaths, yet research gaps exist. Beyond research, so much more can and needs to be done to raise medical awareness and societal acceptance that stillbirth is a very real occurrence.


The first step is to create a national standardized definition for stillbirth. States define stillbirth differently (a loss at 16 weeks is a stillbirth in Pennsylvania; but in New Jersey, it's 20 weeks), so researchers can't accurately collect data on the true extent of these births. Without good data, research efforts are compromised.


Second, we need improved and expanded training for pathologists to perform perinatal autopsies. An autopsy on a stillbirth requires very specific training, which most pathologists do not have. Without thorough autopsies, researchers are limited in the data they have for study and analysis into the causes of stillbirth.


There is also a dire need to establish more comprehensive medical and emotional support protocols for before, during and after birth for mothers and their families.


Last, increased subject-matter training for the doctor's office and hospital personnel would help ease the trauma and prepare everyone involved for the immediate and longer-term decisions and issues that lie ahead.


The healing process hasn't been perfect, but I am doing better every day. Life has returned to some kind of normal. It's definitely not what normal was before; it never could be. Too much has happened. But it is our new normal and we're moving forward one day at a time. Part of our moving forward is doing everything we can to help make sure other families who experience the trauma of stillbirth are better prepared and supported than we were.



[ Congratulations to 'Debbie' and her family; husband 'Chetham', 'Maya' and 'Gavin'! ]

"Crain moves ahead in recovery from brain injuries" - [By 'Tom Held' of the Journal Sentinel]




When she tires, Jenny Crain's eyes take on a look of fear and confusion.
She appears to be searching for something far removed her immediate surroundings. Perhaps a part of her recovering brain is reflecting back on a day when she ran with the best in the country, when she sustained strength and speed mile after mile. Perhaps she's looking for a finish line somewhere in the future, a place where her mind once again engages fully and energetically.
The well-regarded local athlete celebrated a significant step toward that finish line on Monday, when her brother and mother moved her from the Mt. Carmel Health and Rehabilitation Center in Greenfield to a private apartment, where she will live with a roommate and a caregiver. "I'm kind of excited about it, to use what I learned here in the outside world," Jenny Crain said, while preparing to leave Mt. Carmel. "I've made a lot of progress. My friends and family have noticed it too. I feel stronger."


No one could have guaranteed that Jenny, 41, would have recovered to this point, after a car crashed into her on Aug. 21, 2007. When she stepped off the curb at N. Farwell Ave. and E. Brady St. that morning, Crain was near the end of a routine training run, part of her preparation for the 2008 U.S. Olympic Marathon trials. It would have been her fourth run in that elite competition.
The crash and the devastating brain injuries forced her into a much different marathon, one without a familiar training blueprint or a certain distance. John Brant described her challenges beautifully last month in Runner's World Magazine. Crain put them in simpler terms on Monday. "I was aware of what it took to be a good runner," Crain said, while preparing to leave Mt. Carmel. "That wasn't quite as hard."



In better moments, Crain answers questions directly and flashes the wit and compassion that made her a magnetic figure among runners in Milwaukee and the elite national ranks. She routinely encouraged others, whether dueling in a U.S. National Championship or setting the pace in the Briggs & Al's Run.
On Monday, she chatted knowingly about the cold wind that often blows during the Lakefront Discovery Run and the wisdom of tucking in behind other runners. She brightened at the prospect of the treats to be shared at her farewell party, laughing, "I'm going to have my cake and eat it too." And she used the occasion as something of an audition for a future career as a motivational speaker. "Whatever the situation, 'Make it Happen,'" she told her fellow patients, quoting the motto born during her running days and carried over to the fund designated to help pay for her ongoing rehabilitation needs.
Those needs are great.



Crain is unable to walk and has stood on her own on only two occasions since the crash. She has difficulty swallowing and needs assistance with many of the demands of daily living. And despite her remarkable improvements, Crain has severe cognitive challenges yet to overcome. Her periods of lucid engagement and spot-on long-term memory quickly dissipate, and she falls frequently into patterns of perseveration, repeating phantom complaints and morbid thoughts in a monotone voice. "It's something she struggles with, and probably will forever," Peter Crain said.



While she engaged in talks about races and events on Monday, she also wandered off track mentally, confused about time and place. She tires after about 10 or 15 minutes of either physical or mental activity. Medical science is far from definitive in predicting how much more improvement to expect for someone who suffered such massive brain trauma. The need for care and rehabilitation likely has no end. "This is the rest of Jenny's life," her brother said.
Donna Crain remains convinced, however, that Jenny has not hit the wall in her recovery.



Significant improvements in her ability to remain engaged in conversations and utilize short-term memory have fueled that optimism over the past four to six months. "I don't put a limit on it," Donna Crain said. "I see Jenny being close to what she was before, without the elite running status." Jenny herself has begun to show a greater recognition of who she was, and who she is, which has both benefits and painful implications. Jenny Crain in her prime at the 2007 Boston MarathonShe sat with her mother on Sunday, and watched a bit of the ING New York City Marathon on television.



Five years ago, that race provided one of her pinnacle moments as an athlete. Strong and determined, she engaged her mind and body solidly for 2 hours 41 minutes and crossed the finish line 15th overall among women, the top American female. She had little patience for the race on television. As Donna related, "she said, 'Don't you think I'd rather be running the marathon myself.'"

"The secret of happiness"


A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for 40 days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.


Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the man's attention.


The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn't have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.


"Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something", said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. "As you wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill".


The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was.


"Well", asked the wise man, "Did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?"


The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.


"Then go back and observe the marvels of my world", said the wise man. "You cannot trust a man if you don't know his house".


Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen.


"But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?" asked the wise man. Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.


"Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you", said the wisest of wise men. "The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon".


[Author: Paul Coelho in "The Alchemist"]