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 Dear Reader: the summer before my 9th grade year, my church youth group began the now annual tradition of going on workcamps for a week in july. we went far away to the little town of maxwelton, west virginia. being born and raised in pennsylvania, there were many jokes on the ten hour car ride about the hicks we would be meeting during our venture. hicks or not, the people i encountered that week changed my life. one of our jobs was to help with flood relief in near by pocahontas county. the first day my group left at 8 in the morning, not knowing what to expect, but full of excitement. i was assigned to the home of elmira, a wonderfully sweet woman, who loved to tell stories, and seemed to have a never ending supply of lemonade and cookies for us. i raked the clumps of toxic mud from her bushes while finding telephones, picture frames, dolls, and other miscellaneous debris relocated by the ferocious waters. next door, my sister was climbing around on her stomach, through picky insulation and more of the sewer infected mud, in the basement of elmira's sister, rose. it was very hard and tiresome work for a group of teenagers used to tv and tanning during the summer. both of the siblings stayed out in the intense heat with us the entire day, despite the wear it was obviously having on their frail, elderly bodies. they retreated into the shade of their homes only to replenish our drinks. at one point my advisor, leanne, went into elmira's home to help her carry some glasses. while inside, leanne was able to see the immense devistation the flood had caused. from the outside things looked dismal, but from the inside they were positively depressing. that evening leanne told us about the damage and the broken possesions all around. albums of beloved pictures from rose and elmira's childhood were scattered about, caked in mud and slime, ruined forever. the only remaining furniture was a few plastic chairs, the others had all been broken and carried away. there was really nothing left for elmira after the waters receeded. she had lost literally everything. her home was just a shell. not the welcoming abode that many of us are so fortunate to return to each day. i thought back to the woman i had met that day. she never showed a trace of sadness. in fact she seemed so happy for us to be there, to have someone to share her memories with. i think she appreciated the yard work we did for her, but i believe her greatest joy was just to know that someone cared. when we all loaded back into the vans to return to the church we were staying in, the sisters gave each of us a hug, and as the vans drove away, i could see them standing by their newly trimmed hedges waving, and smiling. that is just one of the many life altering days i spent in west virginia, but it will forever stick in my mind. years later we still talk about those sweet old ladies we met. and we always remember then how very fortunate we are to have what we have, but the true insignificance of it all. it reminds me that happiness is not about material possessions. the only thing in life that matters is how you can help to better someone elses. and to me, nothing gives life more meaning than the look of appreciation from someone in need. it doesn't always take a day of yard work, or an expensive gift. soemtimes the best way to help someone is just to listen to thier stories or problems or joys. sometimes it is just a genuine smile that can turn around someone's day. i know the smiles of rose and elmira made all of the aches and pains and blisters worth it. megan e zeigler <qoranj@aol.com> USA - Thursday, July 06, 2000 at 00:16:30 (EDT) Story # 1 Wake Up! In early 1998, my husband Michael and I were the publishers of a monthly magazine called Vision whose focus was alternative health, psychology and spiritually. We were returning home from a troubling business interaction and found ourselves behind an icon of the 1970's; a VW minibus. Now this was not your run-of-the-mill, iridescently painted hippie-mobile. It was a rolling billboard for profound thought, placed before us as an answer to an oft-spoken prayer. Beneath the rear window in flowing script were the words, "Don't waste what you do have, worrying about what you don't have." Whoa! My initial thought was , "O.K. God, I got the message." As if to indicate that I wasn't seeing the whole picture, I noticed these words near the others, "All things pass." Uh...huh. As traffic slowed, I attempted to get a look at the driver to see if I knew him or her. No luck there, but I did catch a glimpse of a final bit of wisdom before my teacher turned off the main road into a parking lot. On the left rear portion of the van, were the words, "Wake Up!" Story # 2- An Angel in Disguise I truly believe that the answers to our prayers surround us if we are alert to them. They don't always come in the form we would expect. A few years back, our son had been discharged from an in-patient program for children with emotional challenges. We were eating dinnner at a fast food restaurant, enjoying the bounty of the salad bar. We were discussing the ways in which we planned on working together to resolve some of the problems that had landed him there initially, when a young man approached us, pushing a broom. He said, "I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard your conversation and I'm here to tell you that everything is going to be o.k. When I was his age, I put my parents through hell and even now I still don't know why I was so angry. Now, I have graduated from high school, I have a job, a girlfriend and a good relationship with my parents." Again he reassured us, "It's going to work out fine." We thanked him and put the experience aside, until a few months later, when we returned to the restaurant. We asked about this young man, describing his appearance to the manager and to our surprise, no one knew who he was. All we could think was that a celestial emissary had been sent to provide an interval of comfort in a time of doubt. Story # 3- Listening to My Inner Voice In early 1986, I was planning on joining a group of "Citizen Diplomats" and traveling to what was then the Soviet Union. I had paid my deposit and was eagerly anticipating this once in a lifetime adventure. Then one day, I heard a penetrating Voice; neither male nor female, say, "No, you are not supposed to go to Russia now, you are supposed to be in Philadelphia." My response? "But I really want to go." The voice repeated its message. I countered, "But I've already paid my deposit." Once again, the Voice chimed in. My final parry; "But I don't live in Philadelphia." (at the time I lived in a suburb nearly an hour away) One final time, the Voice responded with all authority and I had no more desire to argue. I contacted the sponsoring organization, cancelled my plans and went on with my life. The trip was planned for October 12-26, 1986. On October 24, I traveled to Philadelphia with a group of friends to hear spiritual teacher Ram Dass speak on the subject of SEVA (Sanskrit for 'selfless service'). During the intermission, I was introduced by a mutual friend to a man with the most exquisite blue eyes I had ever encountered. Our friend told him, "This is the woman who is faciliating the workshop you signed up for." Two weeks hence, I was scheduled to give one of my favorite interactive presentations, entitled, "The Love Yourself Playshop" Michael liked to say that his heart went pitter patter, while I casually greeted him, said I would see him in two weeks and then moved on to speak with someone else. I like to say that it took two weeks for my heart to catch up, because at the workshop I virtually melted into a puddle beneath the intensity of those cerulean eyes. Six months later, we were married. I have since learned to trust the compelling Inner Voice because it has never steered me wrong. Just a side note, that will put these stories into perspective. Several years ago, Michael was diagnosed with Chronic Active Hepatitis C. Last May, he was placed on the UNOS list for a liver transplant. On December 21, 1998, Michael joined many thousands of others, succumbing to this insidious disease because a donor liver was not available for him. We had been married nearly 12 years and had planned on growing old together. Since Michael's passing, I have become an outspoken advocate and volunteer educator on the importance of becoming an organ and tissue donor. A little more than a year before he died, Michael enrolled in a seminary, working toward becoming an interfaith minister. When he died, I took his place in the class and completed two years worth of work in 5 months, with Divine and husbandly intervention and on June 13, 1999 became an ordained interfaith minister. I am currently a full time nursing home social worker, clown and humor therapist, writer, speaker and mom to our now 12 year old son who is adjusting to a new life as well. I feel blessed to have such supportive family and friends who continue to nurture us through this experience. If you are interested in publishing any of these stories please feel free to contact me. I received your book as a birthday present from my fellow social workers at the nursing home. I loved it and read through it in bits and pieces at bedtime. What a treat! I intend to readthe stroies to my Residents at a group I lead called "L'chaim!", which in Hebrew means "To life!" It is a group in which we celebrate life in all its facets. Blessings, Edie Rev. Edie Weinstein-Moser <katejoy@liveinjoy.com> Perkasie, PA USA - Wednesday, October 20, 1999 at 21:04:53 (EDT) The other day, my 2 year old grand daughter came for a visit. There had been some other older children at the house earlier and they had left their jump rope. She wanted to know if she could use it. I was about to tell her that she was too small, when she spread the jumprope out on the ground and happily jumped over it. It made me wonder how often I limit my possibilities by thinking there is only one way to do something. I have enjoyed the stories in this book and have begun to notice some of life's little lessons in my own life. Thank you. Allison Griswold USA - Monday, October 11, 1999 at 10:42:54 (EDT) Hi Gail, Shortly after you visited my office, I went to Amazon.com and ordered your book. I thought it would be great to read the first publication from one of my newest friends, and was looking forward to its delivery. It took a few days to reach me, then a few days more for me to finally open the box and begin turning the pages due to my exhausting schedule. Well, as you can imagine, I never allowed enough time in my schedule to really get the pages turning, so I eventually decided that your book would become one of my travelling companions on my vacation, from which I returned just yesterday. Staying true the promise to myself, I began to take a few minutes each day to read your little stories and life's messages. I found myself smiling wide at times, even letting out some unexpected laugher. I also found a few hard hitting truths to how we can become so consumed with life's daily trials, that we forget life itself is a wonderful gift to be shared and enjoyed. Your inspirations made me pause, reflect, laugh, and consider the changes that I can make in my world. Thanks for taking the time to share a piece of yourself with us through your writing. Gail, I look forward to your next book, your sister's new drawings and to our developing professional and personal relationship. Your a wonderfully sensitive author who shows that balance, understanding, and love are childhood qualities that we all need to remember and continue to develop as adults in order to have our own simple wisdom. - Bob Robert J. Simone <rsimone@realtyplan.com> Canton, MA USA - Thursday, September 09, 1999 at 18:33:12 (EDT) |
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