Keep your dream

Keep your dream 

I have a friend named Monty Roberts who owns a horse ranch in San Ysidro. He has let me use his house to put on fund-raising events to raise money for youth at risk programs.


The last time I was there he introduced me by saying, “I want to tell you why I let Jack use my horse. It all goes back to a story about a young man who was the son of an itinerant horse trainer who would go from stable to stable, race track to race track, farm to farm and ranch to ranch, training horses. As a result, the boy’s high school career was continually interrupted. When he was a senior, he was asked to write a paper about what he wanted to be and do when he grew up.

“That night he wrote a seven-page paper describing his goal of someday owning a horse ranch. He wrote about his dream in great detail and he even drew a diagram of a 200-acre ranch, showing the location of all the buildings, the stables and the track. Then he drew a detailed floor plan for a 4,000-square-foot house that would sit on a 200-acre dream ranch.


“He put a great deal of his heart into the project and the next day he handed it in to his teacher. Two days later he received his paper back. On the front page was a large red F with a note that read, `See me after class.’

“The boy with the dream went to see the teacher after class and asked, `Why did I receive an F?’

“The teacher said, `This is an unrealistic dream for a young boy like you. You have no money. You come from an itinerant family. You have no resources. Owning a horse ranch requires a lot of money. You have to buy the land. You have to pay for the original breeding stock and later you’ll have to pay large stud fees. There’s no way you could ever do it.’ Then the teacher added, `If you will rewrite this paper with a more realistic goal, I will reconsider your grade.’


“The boy went home and thought about it long and hard. He asked his father what he should do. His father said, `Look, son, you have to make up your own mind on this. However, I think it is a very important decision for you.’ “Finally, after sitting with it for a week, the boy turned in the same paper, making no changes at all.

He stated, “You can keep the F and I’ll keep my dream.”
Monty then turned to the assembled group and said, “I tell you this story because you are sitting in my 4,000-square-foot house in the middle of my 200-acre horse ranch. I still have that school paper framed over the fireplace.” He added, “The best part of the story is that two summers ago that same schoolteacher brought 30 kids to camp out on my ranch for a week.” When the teacher was leaving, he said, “Look, Monty, I can tell you this now. When I was your teacher, I was something of a dream stealer. During those years I stole a lot of kids’ dreams. Fortunately you had enough gumption not to give up on yours.”
“Don’t let anyone steal your dreams. Follow your heart, no matter what.”  

Helpless love

Helpless love  

Once upon a time all feelings and emotions went to a coastal island for a vacation. According to their nature, each was having a good time. Suddenly, a warning of an impending storm was announced and everyone was advised to evacuate the island.

The announcement caused sudden panic. All rushed to their boats. Even damaged boats were quickly repaired and commissioned for duty.

Yet, Love did not wish to flee quickly. There was so much to do. But as the clouds darkened, Love realised it was time to leave. Alas, there were no boats to spare. Love looked around with hope.

Just then Prosperity passed by in a luxurious boat. Love shouted, “Prosperity, could you please take me in your boat?”

“No,” replied Prosperity, “my boat is full of precious possessions, gold and silver. There is no place for you.”

A little later Vanity came by in a beautiful boat. Again Love shouted, “Could you help me, Vanity? I am stranded and need a lift. Please take me with you.”


Vanity responded haughtily, “No, I cannot take you with me. My boat will get soiled with your muddy feet.”

Sorrow passed by after some time. Again, Love asked for help. But it was to no avail. “No, I cannot take you with me. I am so sad. I want to be by myself.”

When Happiness passed by a few minutes later, Love again called for help. But Happiness was so happy that it did not look around, hardly concerned about anyone.

Love was growing restless and dejected. Just then somebody called out, “Come Love, I will take you with me.” Love did not know who was being so magnanimous, but jumped on to the boat, greatly relieved that she would reach a safe place.


On getting off the boat, Love met Knowledge. Puzzled, Love inquired, “Knowledge, do you know who so generously gave me a lift just when no one else wished to help?”

Knowledge smiled, “Oh, that was Time.”


“And why would Time stop to pick me and take me to safety?” Love wondered.

Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and replied, “Because only Time knows your true greatness and what you are capable of. Only Love can bring peace and great happiness in this world.”

“The important message is that when we are prosperous, we overlook love. When we feel important, we forget love. Even in happiness and sorrow we forget love. Only with time do we realize the importance of love. Why wait that long? Why not make love a part of your life today?”

Give time to our family

Give time to our family 

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, “I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you.”

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. “What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked.

My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news. “I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded. “Just the two of us.” She thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I would like that very much.”

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary.

She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel’s. “I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed, “she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.”

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me.

A nostalgic smile was on her lips. “It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said. “Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded. During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation – nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.

“How was your dinner date?” asked my wife when I got home. “Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined.

An attached note said: “I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates – one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son.”

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: “I LOVE YOU” and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till “some other time.”

Boy Under the Tree

Boy Under the Tree 

 In the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I was invited to be an instructor at a high school leadership camp hosted by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus activities, and I jumped at the opportunity.

About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness made him appear frail and fragile. Only 50 feet away, 200 eager campers were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out.


As I walked toward him I said, "Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm one of the counselors. It's nice to meet you. How are you?" In a shaky, sheepish voice he reluctantly answered, "Okay, I guess" I calmly asked him if he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly replied, "No, this is not really my thing."


I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn't be right to push him, either. He didn't need a pep talk, he needed a friend. After several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the tree was over. At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of my lungs for 200 of my new friends. The campers were eagerly participated. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with the same questions as before: "How are you doing? Are you okay?" To which he again replied, "Yeah, I'm alright. I just don't really get into this stuff." As I left the cafeteria, I too realized this was going to take more time and effort than I had thought -- if it was even possible to get through to him at all.


That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could. The days I spend at camp each year fly by faster than any others I have known. Thus, before I knew it, mid-week had dissolved into the final night of camp and I was chaperoning the "last dance." The students were doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new "best friends" -- friends they would probably never see again.


As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from under the tree, who stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls proceeded to cut up a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate time with people at whom he couldn't even look just days earlier. I couldn't believe it was him. In October of my sophomore year, a late-night phone call pulled me away from my chemistry book. A soft-spoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, "Is Kevin there?"


"You're talking to him. Who's this?"

"This is Tom Johnson's mom. Do you remember Tommy from leadership camp?
The boy under the tree. How could I not remember? "Yes, I do," I said. "He's a very nice young man. How is he?"
An abnormally long pause followed, then Mrs. Johnson said, "My Tommy was walking home from school this week when he was hit by a car and killed." Shocked, I offered my condolences.


"I just wanted to call you," she said, "because Tommy mentioned you so many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life."


In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others to look out for their own "boy under the tree."   

Five More Minutes

Five More Minutes 

 While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground.  “That’s my son over there,” she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.  “He’s a fine looking boy” the man said. “That’s my daughter on the bike in the white dress.”

Then, looking at his watch, he called to his daughter. “What do you say we go, Melissa?”  Melissa pleaded, “Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes.”  The man nodded and Melissa continued to ride her bike to her heart’s content. Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his daughter. “Time to go now?”

  

Again Melissa pleaded, “Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes.”  The man smiled and said, “OK.”  “My, you certainly are a patient father,” the woman responded.

  

The man smiled and then said, “Her older brother Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I’d give anything for just five more minutes with him. I’ve vowed not to make the same mistake with Melissa.  She thinks she has five more minutes to ride her bike. The truth is, I get Five more minutes to watch her play.  

Finish Line

Finish Line 

In December of 1992 I was a happy husband and father of two young children. A month later, I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoplastic Luekemia.


After two years of chemoterapy that helped me into remission, my body was weak and lifeless. I felt as if I were a puppet who needed help to lift his arms or hold up his head.


I began to run. After six months my strength had come back. On one of my runs, one where I felt I could run forever, I decided I was going to try to run a marathon.


After telling my Dad about my plan he told me of a program that trains people to run a marathon, while raising funds for Luekemia research at the same time. So that summer, through the Luekemia Society's Team In Training program I started to train for the Marine Corps Marathon. During mile after mile of uncertainty, the day finally came to run the marathon.


On October 27,1996, at 8am, the cannon went off and so did I. Along with 19,000 other brave souls I started on a twenty-six and two tenths mile journey that I will never forget.


I first saw my wife Patty at the six mile mark: she seemed happy that I was still looking as if I knew what I was doing , and having a good time doing it. At mile 17, my mind was going back to those two horrible years that tried to bring my family and me down. I saw her again. The concern in her face told me she knew I was starting to struggle. I felt as if we were thinking the same, nine more miles and these last few years will be behind us.


That thought alone pulled me forward. Mile 22, 23, slowing but going, 24, 25, then there it was. The Iwo Jima War Memorial. I have seen nothing so grand and inspiring in my life. At 3 hours and 41 minutes after I started, I crossed what I think has to be the most fitting finish line in all of road racing!

That night the Luekemia Society gave me a pin at a post race party that simply says, "Luekemia 26.2".

If God wills, and I relapse, my cancer may once again take away my hair and my strength, maybe even my life. But it can never take away my pin, or the fact that I am a marathoner. ?  

Choice in the Face of Adversity

  

Choice in the Face of Adversity

  

I was the keynote speaker for the County Commissioners Association of Pennsylvania last week. I am always honored and pleased when after hearing me speak, people are compelled to tell me their personal story. It tells me that something about what I said reached their soul or touched their spirit. That is my goal.

One man approached me later that evening and shared a picture of his son with me. The young man was holding a huge fish he had caught during the father and son fishing trip they planned every year. He heard me speak about my sons and felt connected, one Dad to another. I went to my room and returned with a copy of my book for him signed with this message: "I am honored that you shared that personal story and photo with me. You caused me to think of my sons and that gives me great joy. You also give me hope for the world. I know we can make a difference one child at a time." His wife attended my breakout session the next day and told me how touched he was. "He hates to read. But he'll read this one."


Two perfect strangers lifted each other up by recognizing our sameness.

But earlier that day a gentleman from my area of the state told me this story. He spoke of war.


He had fought in Germany and spoke about the difficult times. But it wasn't until he heard me speak about turning your adversities around and taking control of situations that are obviously out of your control that he remembered this very personal story.


"They say we had defeated this group of German soldiers. Actually they just gave up. I stood off to the side as a handful of our men gathered the Germans in formation. One by one each German soldier was stripped of his personal belongings. Some stood tall and without a struggle had watches, rings, and wallets removed. A few cried and begged to keep their wedding rings and photos, but to no avail. This was war.", he told me in a humble, soft tone.


"Suddenly, a German standing close to me turned his head and as if looking around for someone he knew, grabbed my hand and placed his watch in it. I was stunned for a moment. Out of all the American soldiers nearby he chose me.", he continued.


Pausing, now looking down at the floor and re-living that moment in his mind, he said, "He took control. Knowing that someone was about to take everything from him, that German soldier chose not to have it stolen but to give it as a gift to someone he selected. Me."
We are all aware of the atrocities of that war. But let us never forget the battle fought inside each of the participants.


What troubles and pains are you experiencing now that you can reclaim control of, inspite of the obvious negative outcome. I challenge you to do what Robert H. Schuller tells us.
"Turn your scars into stars."  

Attitude Is Everything

Attitude Is Everything 

Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"


He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, 'Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.


Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.

I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live." "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man.' "I knew I needed to take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry.
"She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breathe and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them. 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead." Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.   

Enjoy your life at every moment

 Enjoy your life at every moment

Once a fisherman was sitting near seashore,

under the shadow of a tree smoking his beedi.

Suddenly a rich businessman passing by

approached him and enquired as to why he

was sitting under a tree smoking and not

working. To this the poor fisherman replied

that he had caught enough fishes for the day.

Hearing this the rich man got angry and said:

Why don’t you catch more fishes instead of

sitting in shadow wasting your time?

Fisherman asked: What would I do by catching

more fishes?

Businessman: You could catch more fishes,

sell them and earn more money, and buy a

bigger boat.

Fisherman: What would I do then?

Businessman: You could go fishing in deep

waters and catch even more fishes and earn

even more money.

Fisherman: What would I do then?

Businessman: You could buy many boats and

employ many people to work for you and earn

even more money.

Fisherman: What would I do then?

Businessman: You could become a rich

businessman like me.

Fisherman: What would I do then?

Businessman: You could then enjoy your life

peacefully.

Fisherman: What do you think I’m doing right

now?

MORAL – You don’t need to wait for tomorrow

to be happy and enjoy your life. You don’t

even need to be more rich, more powerful to

enjoy life. LIFE is at this moment, enjoy it

fully.

As some great men have said “My riches

consist not in extent of my possessions but in

the fewness of my wants”.