And I get hungry very quickly these few days!!
Somemore its like a going-to-get-gastric-pain type of growling.....
Talking to A today gave me a really quiet, happy feeling! :) Feel so joyous after that, hehe!
Anyway I hope everything goes like the past/ usual for him tomorrow! :))))))
I mizzzzzzzzzzz playing table-tennis with Dingding1 + Tan-tan + Ziqi and all!
By any way, The Grumpy One is now my, Richie the Rich's, new pet. :) And T-G-O is going to get a lot of T.L.C. from me! Hehe.
Only till its not grumpy, then I shall eat it up and become ungrumpy for however long the effect lasts. Hehehe!
Okay not funny!
Anyway since I don't have anything to blog in my mind right now,
A Story on Friendship
~ Author Unknown
A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home
after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San
Francisco.
"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a
friend I'd like to bring home with me.
"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to
meet him."
"There's something you should know," the son continued, "he was
hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and
a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm
sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No,
Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."
"Son," said the father, "you don't
know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden
on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this
interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about
this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."
At that point, the son hung
up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later,
however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died
after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was
suicide.
The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to
the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to
their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only
one arm and one leg.
The parents in this story are like many of us. We find
it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't
like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather
stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we
are.
Thankfully, there's someone who won't treat us that way.Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us
into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.
Tonight, before
you tuck yourself in for the night, say a little prayer that God will give you
the strength you need to accept people as they are, and to help us all be more
understanding of those who are different from us!!! There's a miracle called
Friendship That dwells in the heart You don't know how it happens Or when it
gets started But you know the special lift It always brings. And you realize
that Friendship Is God's most precious gift!Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and
encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and
they always want to open their hearts to us. Show your friends how much you
care....-
"A touching story worth reading."
Author Unknown
Dear Patrick,
I was then an only child who had
everything I could ever want. But even a pretty, spoiled and rich kid could get
lonely once in a while so when Mom told me that she was pregnant, I was
ecstatic. I imagined how wonderful you would be and how we'd always be together
and how much you would look like me. So, when you were born, I looked at your
tiny hands and feet and marveled at how beautiful you were.
We took
you home and I showed you proudly to my friends. They would touch you and
sometimes pinch you, but you never reacted. When you were five months old, some
things began to bother Mom. You seemed so unmoving and numb, and your cry
sounded odd --- almost like a kitten's. So we brought you to many
doctors.
The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said you have
the "cry du chat" (pronounced Kree-do-sha) syndrome, "cry of the cat" in French.
When I asked what that meant, he looked at me with pity and softly
said, "Your brother will never walk nor talk." The doctor told us that it is a
condition that afflicts one in 50,000 babies, rendering victims severely
retarded. Mom was shocked and I was furious. I thought it was unfair.
When we went home, Mom took you in her arms and cried. I looked at you and
realized that word will get around that you're not normal. So to hold on to my
popularity, I did the unthinkable ... I disowned you. Mom and Dad didn't know
but I steeled myself not to love you as you grew. Mom and Dad showered you love
and attention and that made me bitter. And as the years passed, that bitterness
turned to anger, and then hate.
Mom never gave up on you. She knew she
had to do it for your sake.
Everytime she put your toys down, you'd
roll instead of crawl. I watched her heart break every time she took away your
toys and strapped your tummy with foam so you couldn't roll. You struggle and
you're cry in that pitiful way, the cry of the kitten. But she still didn't give
up.
And then one day, you defied what all your doctors said - you
crawled.
When mom saw this, she knew you would eventually walk. So
when you were still crawling at age four, she'd put you on the grass with only
your diapers on knowing that you hate the feel of the grass on your skin.
Then she'd leave you there. I would sometimes watch from the windows
and smile at your discomfort. You would crawl to the sidewalk and Mom would put
you back. Again and again, Mom repeated this on the lawn. Until one day, Mom saw
you pull yourself up and toddle off the grass as fast as your little legs could
carry you.
Laughing and crying, she shouted for Dad and I to come.
Dad hugged you crying openly.
I watched from my bedroom window this
heartbreaking scene.
Over the years, Mom taught you to speak, read and
write. From then on, I would sometime see you walk outside, smell the flowers,
marvel at the birds, or just smile at no one. I began to see the beauty of the
world through your eyes. It was then that I realized that you were my brother
and no matter how much I tried to hate you, I couldn't, because I had grown to
love you.
During the next few days, we again became acquainted with
each other. I would buy you toys and give you all the love that a sister could
ever give to her brother. And you would reward me by smiling and hugging
me.
But I guess, you were never really meant for us. On your tenth
birthday, you felt severe headaches. The doctor's diagnosis --leukemia. Mom
gasped and Dad held her, while I fought hard to keep my tears from falling. At
that moment, I loved you all the more. I couldn't even bear to leave your side.
Then the doctors told us that your only hope is to have a bonemarrow transplant.
You became the subject of a nationwide donor search. When at last we found the
right match, you were too sick, and the doctor reluctantly ruled out the
operations. Since then, you underwent chemotherapy and radiation.
Even at the end, you continued to pursue life. Just a month before you died, you
made me draw up a list of things you wanted to do when you got out of the
hospital. Two days after the list was completed, you asked the doctors to send
you home. There, we ate ice cream and cake, run across the grass, flew kites,
went fishing, took pictures of one another and let the balloons fly. I remember
the last conversation that we had. You said that if you die, and if I need of
help, I could send you a note to heaven by tying it on the string of any balloon
and letting it fly. When you said this, I started crying. Then you hugged me.
Then again, for the last time, you got sick.
That last night, you asked for
water, a back rub, a cuddle. Finally, you went into seizure with tears streaming
down your face. Later, at the hospital, you struggled to talk but the words
wouldn't come. I know what you wanted to say. "Hear you," I whispered. And for
the last time, I said, "I'll always love and I will never forget you. Don't be
afraid. You'll soon be with God in heaven." Then, with my tears flowing freely,
I watched the bravest boy I had ever known finally stop breathing. Dad, Mom and
I cried until I felt as if there were no more tears left. Patrick was finally
gone, leaving us behind.
From then on, you were my source of
inspiration. You showed me how to love life and live to the fullest. With your
simplicity and honesty, you showed me a world full of love and caring. And you
made me realize that the most important thing in this life is to
continue loving without asking why or how and without setting any
limit.
Thank you, my little brother, for all these.
:(
I really dislike most parts of today.
Okay okay okay!! YOU KNOW WHAT!
A few weeks ago, I was rushing around trying to do some
Valentine's Day shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly
of the weather right then.It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading
my car up. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So
mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall entrance. As I was
searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing.The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12
years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged
flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he was
holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost from
his parents, I asked him what was wrong.He told me his sad story. He said that he came from a large
family. He had three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was
nine years old. His Mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs.
She made very little to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed
to skimp and save two hundred dollars to buy her children some Valentine's Day
presents (since she didn't manage to get them anything on Christmas). The young
boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on the way to her second job. He was to
use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take
the bus home. He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of
the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night."Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.The boy said, "I did.""And nobody came to help you?" I queried.The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head."How loud did you scream?" I inquired.The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help
me!"I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy
cry for help....
So I grabbed his other hundred and made a run to my car.
Yea, very touching indeed.
>:(
No comments:
Post a Comment