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Encouraging

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 21, 2001

Kleenex Alert!!!

Several years ago, a physician from southern France contacted me.  His granddaughter had taken ill with a disease that baffled the physicians there.  He called after reading several of my articles on disorders of the autonomic nervous system.  His granddaughter’s symptoms seemed to match those I had described, and he asked me if I could help.  I readily agreed, and for many months, I collaborated with the child’s French physicians by telephone and by fax, directing their diagnostic testing.  At last we came to a diagnosis, and I prescribed a course of therapy.  During the next several weeks, the child made a seemingly miraculous recovery.  Her grandparents expressed their heartfelt thanks and told me to let them know should I ever come to France.
In the summer of 1996, I was invited to speak at a large international scientific meeting that was held in Nice, France.  I sent word to the physician I had helped years before.  Upon my arrival at the hotel, I received a message to contact him.  I called him, and we arranged a night to meet for dinner.
On the appointed day, we met and then drove north to his home in the beautiful southern French countryside.  It was humbling to learn his home was older than the United States.  During the drive he told me that his wife had metastatic breast cancer and was not well, but she insisted upon meeting me.  When introduced to her, I saw that despite her severe illness, she was still a beautiful woman with a noble bearing.
I was thereafter treated to one of the most wonderful meals I have ever eaten, complemented by the most exquisite of wines.  After dinner, we sat in a seventeenth-century salon, sipping cognac and chatting.  Our conversation must have seemed odd to the young man and woman who served us because it came out in a free-flowing mixture of English, French and Spanish.  After a time the woman asked, “My husband tells me you are Jewish, no?”
“Yes,” I said, “I am a Jew.”
They asked me to tell them about Judaism, especially the holidays.  I did my best to explain and was astounded by how little they knew of Judaism.  She seemed to be particularly interested in Hannukah.
Once I had finished answering her questions, she suddenly looked me in the eye and said, “I have something I want to give to you.”  She disappeared and returned several moments later with a package wrapped in cloth.  She sat, her tired eyes looking into mine, and she began to speak slowly.
“When I was a little girl of eight years, during the Second World War, the authorities came to our village to round up all the Jews.  My best friend at that time was a girl of my age named Jeanette.  One morning when I came to play, I saw her family being forced at gunpoint into a truck.  I ran home and told my mother what had happened and asked where Jeanette was going.  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘Jeanette will be back soon.’  I ran back to Jeanette’s house only to find that she was gone and that the other villagers were looting her home of valuables, except for the Judaic items, which were thrown into the street.  As I approached, I saw an item from her house lying in the dirt.  I picked it up and recognized it as an object that Jeanette and her family would light around Christmas time.  In my little girl’s mind I said, ‘I will take this home and keep it for Jeanette until she comes back,’ but she and her family never returned.”
She paused and took a slow sip of brandy.  “Since that time I have kept it.  I hid it from my parents and didn’t tell a soul of its existence.  Indeed, over the last fifty years the only person who knew of it was my husband.  When I found out what really happened to the Jews, and how many of the people I knew had collaborated with the Nazis, I could not bear to look at it.  Yet I kept it, hidden, waiting for something, although I wasn’t sure what.  Now I know what I was waiting for.  It was you, a Jew, who helped cure our granddaughter, and it is to you I entrust this.”
Her trembling hands set the package on my lap.  I slowly unwrapped the cloth from around it.  Inside was a menorah, but one unlike any I had seen before.  Made of solid brass, it had eight cups for holding oil and wicks and a ninth cup centered above the others.  It had a ring attached to the top, and the woman mentioned that she remembered that Jeanette’s family would hang it in the hallway of their home.  It looked quite old to me; later, several people told me that it is probably at least one hundred years old.  As I held it and thought about what it represented, I began to cry.  All I could manage to say was a garbled “merci.”  As I left, her last words to me were “Il faudra voir la lumière encore une fois” – it should once again see light.
I later learned that she died less than one month after our meeting.  This Hannukah, the menorah will once again see light.  And as I and my family light it, we will say a special prayer in honor of those whose memories it represents.  We will not let its lights go out again.

By Blair P. Grubb, M.D.
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 18, 2015

I was giving myself a bad time of it the other day. It was one of those moments when you question your life. I kept wondering if I had done enough to learn, to grow, to help others, and to make this world a better place. I was being a tough judge on myself too. It was then, however, that God in His infinite wisdom gave me peace by awakening in my mind an old story that I had read many years before.

The story begins when a young man taking a lone hiking trip loses his way and finds himself stranded without water in a desolate treeless valley. He is saved, though, when a widowed shepherd finds him and leads him to a spring. The man learns that the shepherd after losing his wife had decided to restore the ruined landscape by single-handedly planting a forest, tree by tree, with only a curling pole and acorns that he had collected from many miles away.

Many years later the man returns and finds a growing forest in the valley and the shepherd, now a bee keeper still at work cultivating and nurturing the woodland. The man continues to visit the valley each year and watches as over four decades the tree planter turns the valley into a Garden of Eden. In the end the man helps his friend to get the government to protect the forest and many people move there. He also visits him one last time as the now very old tree planter peacefully passes away.

Thinking of that story made me realize that each of us is a tree planter too. We plant trees of goodness with every loving thought we think, every kind word we share, and every caring act we do. We plant these trees each and everyday of our lives. We should waste no time judging ourselves then while there are more trees to plant. And at the end of our lives when we face our Heavenly Father, we can smile and see where a forest has grown.

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 15, 2015

There was a man who made living selling balloons at a fair. He had all colors of balloons Including red, yellow, green. Whenever business was slow, he would release a helium filled balloons into the air and when the children saw it go up, they all wanted to buy one. They would come up to him, buy a balloon and his sales would go up again. He continues this process all day.

One day, he felt something tugging his jacket. He turned around and saw a little boy who asked,” If you release a black balloon, would that also fly?” Moved by the boy’s concern, the man replied with empathy.” Son, it is not the Color of the balloon, it is what inside that makes it go up.”

The same thing applies to our lives. It is what is inside that counts. The thing inside of us that makes us go up is our attitude.

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 13, 2015

On the best sunny day, the most powerful magnifying glass will not light paper if you keep moving the glass. But if you focus and hold it, the paper will light up. That is the power of concentration.

A man was traveling and stopped at an intersection. He asked an elderly man, “Where does this road take me?” The elderly person asked, “Where do you want to go?” The man replied, “I don’t know.” The elderly person said, “Then take any road. What difference does it make?”

How true. When we don’t know where we are going, any road will take us there.

Suppose you have all the football eleven players, enthusiastically ready to play the game, all charged up, and then someone took the goal post away. What would happen to the game? There is nothing left. How do you keep score? How do you know you have arrived?

Enthusiasm without direction is like wildfire and leads to frustration. Goals give a sense of direction. Would you sit in a train or a plane without knowing where it was going? The obvious answer is no. Then why do people go through life without having any goals?

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
 so credit can be given
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 15, 2005

An old geezer, who had been a retired farmer for a long time, became very bored and decided to open a medical clinic. He put a sign up outside that said: Dr. Geezer’s clinic. “Get your treatment for $500, if not cured get back $1,000.”

Doctor “Young,” who was positive that this old geezer didn’t know beans about medicine, thought this would be a great opportunity to get $1,000.

So he went to Dr. Geezer’s clinic.

This is what transpired.

Dr. Young: “Dr. Geezer, I have lost all taste in my mouth.” can you please help me ??
Dr. Geezer:  “Nurse, please bring medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in Dr. Young’s mouth.”

Dr. Young: Aaagh !! — “This is Gasoline!”

Dr. Geezer: “Congratulations! You’ve got your taste back. That will be $500.”

Dr. Young gets annoyed and goes back after a couple of days figuring to recover his money.

Dr Young: “I have lost my memory, I cannot remember anything.”

Dr. Geezer: “Nurse, please bring medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in the patient’s mouth.”

Doctor Young: “Oh no you don’t,  —  that is Gasoline!”

Dr. Geezer: “Congratulations! You’ve got your memory back. That will be $500.”

Dr. Young (after having lost $1000) leaves angrily and comes back after several more days.

Dr. Young: “My eyesight has become weak  —  I can hardly see !!!!

Dr. Geezer: “Well, I don’t have any medicine for that so —  ” Here’s your $1000 back.”

Dr. Young: “But this is only $500…”

Dr. Geezer: “Congratulations! You got your vision back! That will be $500.”

Moral of story  —  Just because you’re “Young” doesn’t mean that you can outsmart an old “Geezer “

Morning Sry and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
December 14, 1993

If you are anything like me, you have had the privilege of growing up with the world’s best dad. There is nothing quite like the love of a father, and there aren’t enough words to describe it. Let’s face it, ladies; we need our daddies, and here is why.

1. They treat us like the princesses we are. Our dads know exactly how our significant other should be treating us, and if that isn’t happening, Daddy becomes the knight in shining armor. After all, he is the first man we ever love and the first to love us back.

2. It does not matter if you run out of gas in the middle of nowhere or need someone to carry you out of the haunted house; Dad is the ultimate definition of protection. We all remember the nightmares and immediately running down the hall just the climb in bed beside your dad. There is comfort and the feeling of finally being safe when you are with him.

3. We need someone that is brutally honest, someone that is not afraid of telling us we need to wear less makeup (because he knows we are naturally beautiful), or never go on a date with that guy again (because he’ll just show up on your secret date with him and ruin it anyway).

4. Every girl needs to know she is worth so much more than she believes. You get that every single day when your dad is around. It’s almost like they are trained, or it’s inherited, to constantly remind us we deserve better, we are capable of anything, and we can make our own decisions.

5. It is hard not to become a well-rounded individual when you have someone teaching you independence, the rules of every sport, and how to be a leader. Having the world’s best dad is like taking a life core class in college. He teaches you everything you need to know.

6. When your dreams seem out of reach, who is the one that believes in them the most? Probably the one that has taught you to dream that big. Dads push you to be the best you can be and achieve what seems impossible. When your plan fails miserably, he will be ready to pick up your pieces and build you up again.

7. Need more groceries? Got it. Need more gas in the car? Got it. Need (another) formal dress? Got it. You get the picture.

8. You need someone that will fight for you (figuratively and literally), even when you are wrong. The minute you walk through the doors with tears running down your face, Dad is already cracking his knuckles.

9. Just when you think it could never happen to you — it does. You have a flat tire and, thankfully, you know exactly what to do all because he sat you down one Saturday afternoon, and just when he thought you were only scrolling through Instagram, you were actually paying attention. Good thing.

10. You need your Daddy because imagine a world without them. Imagine if you did not have that strong shoulder to cry on. Imagine if you did not have someone to rebuild your confidence when it gets knocked down. Imagine if you did not have someone to always call you their little girl.

By -Lindsey Rae Hurst
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 9, 2015

Many years ago, a horse rider came across some soldiers who were trying to move a heavy log without success. The corporal was standing by as the men struggled. The rider asked the corporal why he wasn’t helping. The corporal replied, “I am the corporal; I give orders.”

The rider dismounted, went up and stood by the soldiers and as they were lifting the log, he helped them. With his help, the log got moved.

The rider quietly mounted his horse and went to the corporal and said, “The next time your men need help, send for the Commander-in-Chief.” After he left, the corporal and his men found out that the rider was George Washington.

The Book of Virtues, edited by William J. Bennett, 
  Simon & Schuster, New York, 1993, p. 204.

 

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