Charles Plumb was a
U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was
destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into
enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese
prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from
that experience.
One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a
restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb!
You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You
were shot down!" "How in the world did you know that?"
asked Plumb. "I packed your parachute," the man replied. Plumb
gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said,
"I guess it worked!" Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If
your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."
Plumb couldn't
sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept
wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a
bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might
have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything
because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."
Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden
table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding
the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of
someone he didn't know. Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing
your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to
make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds
of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory-he needed
his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and
his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching
safety.
Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what
is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you,
congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them,
give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason. As you go
through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your
parachute.
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DeLois Terrell |
Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a
55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only
partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some
other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.
The cop was stepping out of his
car, the big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into his
trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop catching a guy from
his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long
day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow. Jumping out of
the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in
uniform.
"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this." "Hello,
Jack." No smile. "Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my
wife and kids." "Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules
a bit -just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane
said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our
precinct."
Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change
tactics. "What'd you clock me at?" "Seventy. Would you sit back
in your car please?" "Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon
as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with
every ticket. "Please, Jack, in the car." Flustered, Jack hunched
himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the
dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob
scribbled away on the pad.
Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license? Whatever
the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop
again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded
paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room
for Bob to pass him the slip. "Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the
sneer out of his voice. Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack
watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much
was this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke?
Certainly not a ticket.
Jack began to read: "Dear Jack, Once upon a time I
had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it-a speeding
driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his
daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait
until Heaven before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to
forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to
do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful, Jack, my son is all I have
left." "Bob" Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull
away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared.
A full 15
minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for
forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived. Life is
precious. Handle with care. This is an important message; please pass it along
to your friends. Drive safely and carefully. Remember, cars are not the only
things recalled by their maker. Funny how you can send a thousand jokes' through
e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages
regarding the sanctity of life, people think twice about sharing. Funny how when
you go to forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address
list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you
for sending it to them. Pass this on, you may save a life. Maybe not, but we'll
never know if we don't try.
May today there be peace within you. May you trust God that you are exactly
where you are meant to be. "I believe that friends are quiet angels who
lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to
fly."
E-Mail
DeLois Terrell |
With chalk in hand she wrote her name across a
board once bare and then she sat behind her
desk without a single care.
For the next fifteen minutes she did not make a
sound until the very last student had finally
settled down.
Then she stood before them and told them all
her name and then politely asked each student
to do the same.
Then without hesitation she took papers from a
sack and placed them in two piles, one white,
the other black.
And deliberately quite slowly, with a slight,
mischievous smile she began handing out the
papers, up and down each aisle. and once each
student had a piece; she continued within their
sights then gathered two piles of crayons, one
black the other white.
Then she took a painting, from behind her
walnut desk and placed a painter’s smock,
overtop her navy dress.
And to no one in particular, she spoke in
peaceful tones “I’ve been working on this
painting, for years in my own home.”
She stood staring at the painting, its brilliant
colors mixed as one upon a vast horizon, the
presence of a sun. it indeed was not a Picasso or
Michelangelo to say the least, but nonetheless
was beautiful; its presence spoke of peace.
No doubt that lovely painting, had taken so
much time for every color known to man,
seemed to intertwine.
And so it came with wonder, what they
witnessed with surprise the act that took them
all of guard, done right before their eyes.
With finger paints now gathered, and opened on
her desk she smeared the colors upon her
hands, in an entangled awful mess.
And then as though she’d lost her mind, she
smeared her hands across the painting once so
beautiful … now a total loss.
It did not make a bit of sense, they did not
understand as they sat and watched their
teacher wipe the paint from off her hands. Then she took the crayons, and went up and
down the rows and handed one to each student,
the color that she chose.
“Now,” she told her students, “I want you to
create a picture filled with beauty, devoid of any
hate.”
Mouths dropped open widely; mumbles filled
the room and students looked to one another,
as unasked questions seemed to loom.
For the students with white paper, were given
crayons the same shade and the students with
black crayons had been given a raven-colored
page.How could one create splendor, upon the
empty page when their teacher had left out
many facts and created an inner rage.
“Teacher,” a student’s voice was hear, “I’m not
so sure I can” staring at the white crayon, and
white paper in her hand.
Silence overtook the room; it eerily crept about
Causing the teacher’s gently voice, to erupt into
a shout.
“You each share the same problem; you each
possess the power to resolve, but only the
students with open minds, will have the ability
to solve.”
Minutes ticked away, class was nearing to an
end not one single student knew quite how to
begin.
And when the bell rang out, they hurried to
their feet their teacher told them
commandingly, to return back to their seat. “Before you leave this classroom, I think you
each should know for this assignment you
receive a failing grade, for you have not work to
show.”
“For tomorrow and the next day, your
assignment shall be the same. Those who fail
my class, will have only themselves to blame.”
The next day and the following, students
weren’t quite sure what to do. Until at last, a
solution began to surface through.
When one student with his crayons, and paper
both in black turned to the student behind him
and asked, “May I borrow that?”
The student hesitated, but then gave up his
crayon made of white and ultimately the
assignment, no longer seemed a plight.
For students all throughout the class, switched
crayons up and down the aisles and certain that
they’d found the solution, their faces lit with
smiles. And just as every student began to
draw, across an empty page the teacher whom
they’d all began, to see as certainly quite
strange.
She collected all the pages and crayons, without
a single mark and then spoke aloud, “Thank
you, for bringing hope into my heart.”
“You see, I wanted you to realize, that in order
to create a picture filled with beauty, devoid of
any hate.”
“You needed first to recognize, that a problem,
each of us must face working all as one, before
we segregate our race.
With open eyes and open hearts, we must see
the person within and come to the
understanding that racism should not begin.
For together we are family, we cry tears, we
feel pain and though we may not look the part,
we really are the same.
For crayons are just colors, that’s all our skin is,
too and to continue to work in harmony, that’s
exactly what we’ll do.”
Students looked about the room, a variety of
colors on their skin as the point she was trying
to make, began to settle in.
That they each were trying to contemplate; that
indeed they were the same.
Throughout the room, a nervous shuffling of
papers, and coughs that came.
I tried to portray the image that racism can
change like crayons to a paper, all you need is
to exchange.
It was then each student realized, the purpose
of crayons and papers the same shade was to
prove they each needed the other color, to help
fill their empty page.
Silence seized the moment, as one student
raised his open hand and then spoke in
hesitation, “I just don’t understand ….
Why you took your painting, the one you
seemed to enjoy so much
Gather up your finger paints, to destroy it in a touch.”
Sadness filled her face, as a tear trailed down
her cheek and in slow and heartfelt words, she
began to speak.
“To show you each that colors can be beautiful,
but they also can destroy everything we love
and work for, everything we enjoy.”
And the destruction of something that I loved
Was to make a point to you.
That racism destroys the beauty in us all,
And the fighting over colors is a destructive
thing to do.”
Submitted by
Carissa Kolomay and her 8th grade classmates
at the Westville Junior High School of
Bloomingdale, Illinois
11/2003
|
He knew it was a long trip to where God lived
so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a
six-pack of root beer and he started his journey.
When he had gone about three blocks, he met
an old man. He was sitting in the park just
staring at some pigeons. The boy sat down next
to him and opened his suitcase. He was about to
take a drink from his root beer when he noticed
that the old man looked hungry, so he offered
him a Twinkie.
He gratefully accepted it and smiled at him. His
smile was so pleasant that the boy wanted to
see it again, so he offered him a root beer.
Again, he smiled at him. The boy was delighted!
They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling,
but they never said a word.
As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he
was and he got up to leave,but before he had
gone more than a few steps, he turned around,
ran back to the old man, and gave him a hug.
He gave him his biggest smile ever.
When the boy opened the door to his own house
a short time later, his mother was surprised by
the look of joy on his face. She asked him,"What did you do today that made you so
happy?
"He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before
his mother could respond,he added, "You know
what? He's got the most beautiful smile I've
ever seen!"
Meanwhile, the old man, also radiant with joy,
returned to his home. His sonwas stunned by
the look of peace on his face and he asked, "Dad, what did you do today that made you so
happy?"
He replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with
God." However, before his son responded, he
added, "You know, he's much younger than I
expected."
Too often we underestimate the power of a
touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an
honest compliment, or the smallest act of
caring, all of which have the potential to turn a
life around. People come into our lives for a
reason, a season, or a lifetime. Embrace all
equally! Have lunch with God!
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Steve Wilcox |
One day, one friend asked another, "How is it
that you are always so happy, you have so
much energy, and you never seem to get
down?" With her eyes smiling, she said, "I know
the Secret!" "What secret is that?" To which she
replied, "I'll tell you all about it, but you have to
promise to share the Secret with others."
The Secret is this: "I have learned there is little
I can do in my life that will make me truly
happy. I must depend on God to make me
happy and meet my needs. When a need arises
in my life, I have to trust God to supply them
according to HIS riches. I have learned most of
the time I don't need half of what I think I do.
He has never let me down.
Since I learned that Secret I am happy." The
questioner's first thought was, "That's too
simple!" But upon reflecting over her own life
she recalled how she thought a bigger house
would make her happy, but it didn't! She
thought a better paying job would make her
happy, but it hadn't.
When did she realize her greatest happiness?
Sitting on the floor with her grandchildren,
playing games, eating pizza or reading a story,
a simple gift from God. Now you know it too!
We can't depend on people or things to make us
happy. Only GOD in His wisdom can do that.
Trust HIM!
And now I pass the Secret on to you!
So once you get it, whatcha gonna do?
YOU have to tell someone the Secret, too!
That GOD in His wisdom will take care of YOU!
Perry Young |
