Stories that Touch the Heart

All the Good Things
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.
I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me.
That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.
One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."
Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.
The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."
Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.
written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosia

All the Good Things
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful. Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day. One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister." At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third. One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend." That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!" No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again. That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is." Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark. I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said. After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it." Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists." That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again. written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosia

How to Give Your Cat a Pill

Grasp cat firmly in your arms. Cradle its head on your elbow, just as if you were giving a baby a bottle. Coo confidently, "That's a nice kitty." Drop pill into its mouth.

Retrieve cat from top of lamp and pill from under sofa.

Follow same procedure as in #1, but hold cat's front paws down with left hand and back paws down with elbow of right arm. Poke pill into its mouth with right forefinger.

Retrieve cat from under bed. Get new pill from bottle. (Resist impulse to get new cat.)

Again proceed as in #1, except when you have cat firmly cradled in bottle-feeding position, sit down on edge of chair, fold your torso over cat, bring your right hand over your left elbow, open cat's mouth by lifting the upper jaw and pop the pill in quickly. Since your head is down by your knees, you won't be able to see what you're doing. That's just as well.

Leave cat hanging on drapes. Leave pill in your hair.

If you're a woman, have a good cry. If you're a man, have a good cry.

Now pull yourself together. Who's the boss here anyway? Retrieve cat and pill. Assuming position #1, say sternly, "Who's the boss here, anyway?" Open cat's mouth, take pill and...Oooops!

This isn't working, is it? Collapse and think. Aha! Those flashing claws are causing the chaos.

Crawl to linen closet. Drag back large beach towel. Spread towel on floor.

Retrieve cat from kitchen counter and pill from potted plant.

Spread cat on towel near one end with its head over long edge.

Flatten cat's front and back legs over its stomach. (Resist impulse to flatten cat.)

Roll cat in towel. Work fast; time and tabbies wait for no man or woman.

Resume position #1. Rotate your left hand to cat's head. Press its mouth at the jaw hinges like opening the petals of a snapdragon.

Drop pill into cat's mouth and poke gently. Voila! It's done.

Vacuum up loose fur (cat's). Apply bandages to wounds (yours).

Take two aspirins and lie down.

Author Unknown

How to Give Your Cat a Pill
Grasp cat firmly in your arms. Cradle its head on your elbow, just as if you were giving a baby a bottle. Coo confidently, "That's a nice kitty." Drop pill into its mouth. Retrieve cat from top of lamp and pill from under sofa. Follow same procedure as in #1, but hold cat's front paws down with left hand and back paws down with elbow of right arm. Poke pill into its mouth with right forefinger. Retrieve cat from under bed. Get new pill from bottle. (Resist impulse to get new cat.) Again proceed as in #1, except when you have cat firmly cradled in bottle-feeding position, sit down on edge of chair, fold your torso over cat, bring your right hand over your left elbow, open cat's mouth by lifting the upper jaw and pop the pill in quickly. Since your head is down by your knees, you won't be able to see what you're doing. That's just as well. Leave cat hanging on drapes. Leave pill in your hair. If you're a woman, have a good cry. If you're a man, have a good cry. Now pull yourself together. Who's the boss here anyway? Retrieve cat and pill. Assuming position #1, say sternly, "Who's the boss here, anyway?" Open cat's mouth, take pill and...Oooops! This isn't working, is it? Collapse and think. Aha! Those flashing claws are causing the chaos. Crawl to linen closet. Drag back large beach towel. Spread towel on floor. Retrieve cat from kitchen counter and pill from potted plant. Spread cat on towel near one end with its head over long edge. Flatten cat's front and back legs over its stomach. (Resist impulse to flatten cat.) Roll cat in towel. Work fast; time and tabbies wait for no man or woman. Resume position #1. Rotate your left hand to cat's head. Press its mouth at the jaw hinges like opening the petals of a snapdragon. Drop pill into cat's mouth and poke gently. Voila! It's done. Vacuum up loose fur (cat's). Apply bandages to wounds (yours). Take two aspirins and lie down. Author Unknown

Attitude
"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill.
It will make or break a company, a church...a home. The remarkable thing is - we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for the day.
We cannot change the past..we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing that we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude...I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it."
by Charles Swindoll [Note: Please do not take inclusion of this story to mean that I agree with most of what Mr. Swindoll says. But it is a perfect example of how we can learn something even from those we disagree with for the most part.]

Attitude
"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company, a church...a home. The remarkable thing is - we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for the day. We cannot change the past..we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing that we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude...I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it." by Charles Swindoll [Note: Please do not take inclusion of this story to mean that I agree with most of what Mr. Swindoll says. But it is a perfect example of how we can learn something even from those we disagree with for the most part.]

Right Now
Right Now -

somebody is very proud of you.

somebody is thinking of you.

somebody is caring about you.

somebody misses you.

somebody wants to talk to you.

somebody wants to be with you.

somebody hopes you aren't in trouble.

somebody is thankful for the support you have provided.

somebody wants to hold your hand.

somebody hopes everything turns out all right.

somebody wants you to be happy.

somebody wants you to find him/her.

somebody is celebrating your successes.

somebody wants to give you a gift.

somebody thinks that you ARE a gift.

somebody hopes you're not too cold, or too hot.

somebody wants to hug you.

somebody loves you.

somebody admires your strength.

somebody is thinking of you and smiling.

somebody wants to be your shoulder to cry on.

somebody wants to go out with you and have a lot of fun.

somebody thinks the world of you.

somebody wants to protect you.

somebody would do anything for you.

somebody wants to be forgiven.

somebody is grateful for your forgiveness.

somebody wants to laugh with you.

somebody remembers you and wishes that you were there.

somebody is praising God for you.

somebody needs to know that your love is unconditional.

somebody values your advice.

somebody wants to tell you how much they care.

somebody wants to share their dreams with you.

somebody wants to hold you in their arms.

somebody wants YOU to hold them in your arms.

somebody treasures your spirit.

somebody wishes they could STOP time because of you.

somebody praises God for your friendship and love.

somebody can't wait to see you.

somebody loves you for who you are.

somebody loves the way you make them feel.

somebody wants to be with you.

somebody wants you to know they are there for you.

somebody's glad that you're his/her friend.

somebody wants to be your friend.

somebody stayed up all night thinking about you.

somebody is alive because of you.

somebody is wishing that you noticed him/her.

somebody wants to get to know you better.

somebody wants to be near you.

somebody misses your advice/guidance.

somebody has faith in you.

somebody trusts you.

somebody needs you to send them this letter.

somebody needs your support.

somebody needs you to have faith in them.

somebody will cry when they read this.

somebody needs you to let them be your friend.

somebody hears a song that reminds them of you.

(anon.)