MAY YOU ALWAYS FEEL LOVED

MAY YOU ALWAYS FEEL LOVED

May you find serenity and tranquility in a world you may not always
understand.

May the pain you have known and the conflict you have experienced give
you the strength to walk through life facing each new situation with
optimism and courage.

Always know that there are those whose love and understanding will
always be there, even when you feel most alone.

May you discover enough goodness in others to believe in a world of
peace.

May a kind word, a reassuring touch, a warm smile be yours every day of
your life, and may you give these gifts as well as receive them.

Remember the sunshine when the storm seems unending.

Teach love to those who know hate, and let that love embrace you as you
go into the world.

May the teaching of those you admire become part of you, so that you may
call upon them.

Remember, those whose lives you have touched and who have touched yours
are always a part of you, even if the encounters were less than you
would have wished.

May you not become too concerned with material matters, but instead
place immeasurable value on the goodness in your heart.

Find time in each day to see the beauty and love in the world around
you.

Realize that each person has limitless abilities, but each of us is
different in our own way.

What you may feel you lack in one regard may be more than compensated
for in another.

What you feel you lack in the present may become one of your strengths
in the future.

May you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility.

Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.

May you find enough inner strength to determine your own worth by
yourself, and not be dependent on an other’s judgments of your
accomplishments.

May you always feel loved.

– Author Unknown

When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking

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MountainWings       A MountainWings Moment
#6223          Wings Over The Mountains of Life
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When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking
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When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the fridge,
and I immediately wanted to paint another one!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat and I learned that it was good to be
kind to animals!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me, and I learned that the
little things can be the special things in life!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I heard you say a prayer, and I knew there was a GOD I could
always talk to and I learned to trust in GOD

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick,
and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had
nothing, and I learned that those who had something should give
to those who don’t!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it,
and I learned we have to take care of what we are given!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw how you handle your responsibilities even though you
didn’t feel good, and I learned that I would have to be
responsible when I grew up!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes
things hurt, and it’s ok to cry!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw that you cared, and I wanted to be everything that I could
be!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I learned most of life’s lessons that I needed to know to be a
good and protective person when I grew up!

When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I looked at you and wanted to say, “Thanks for all the things I
saw when you thought I wasn’t looking!”

~Author Unknown~

thinking again

A STORY TO MAKE US THINK

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was
allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the
fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for
hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their
jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on
vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could
sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his room-mate all the things
he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his
world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the
world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and
swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young
lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand
old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be
seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on
the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque
scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing
by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his
mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive
words.

Then unexpectedly, a sinister thought entered his mind. Why should the other
man alone experience all the pleasures of seeing everything while he himself
never got to see anything? It didn’t seem fair.

At first thought the man felt ashamed. But as the days passed and he missed
seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him
sour. He began to brood and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be
by that window – that thought, and only that thought, now controlled his
life.

Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began
to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in
the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button
to call for help. Listening from across the room he never moved, never
pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running in. In less
than five minutes the coughing and choking stopped, along with that the
sound of breathing. Now there was only silence-deathly silence.

The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths.
When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened
and called the hospital attendants to take it away. As soon as it seemed
appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was
comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on
one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would
have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look
out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who
had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded
that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps
he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue. . . .

You can interpret the story in any way you like. But one moral stands out:
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own
situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is
doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have
that money can’t buy.

– Author Unknown

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Why Women Are Crabby

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Why Women Are Crabby
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I just had to share this. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to
post as one of your daily “MountainWings Moments.” However, I’m
absolutely positive your wife, sister-in-law, mother, mother-in-
law and any other woman you can think of will enjoy reading
this. PLEASE PASS IT ON!
Tameka Hudson

Why Women Are Crabby

We started to “bud” in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to
find that anything that came in contact with those tender,
blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the
ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the
boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner).
Along with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got
the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our
legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn’t
even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage (premarital or not) was having
sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a
ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it
right and didn’t end up with his little cart before his horse),
leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.

Then it’ was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry
crackers and water for a few months so we didn’t spend the
entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing
creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the
growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards
night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have
Rosemary’s Baby.

Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a watermelon
whole and we pee’d our pants every time we sneezed. When the big
moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably
burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with
our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.

Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says,
“Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hear-me-roar. Calm down and push.
Just one more good push (more like 10),” warranting a strong,
well-deserved impulse to punch the %*#!* (and hubby) square in
the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb
bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that
when all that “cute” wears off, the beautiful little darlings
morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-
sucking little poop machines.

Then come their “Teen Years.” Need I say more?

When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious
sexual prime in our early 40’s – while hubby had his somewhere
around his 18th birthday.

So we progress into the grand finale: “The Menopause,” the
Grandmother of all womanhood. It’s either take HRT and chance
cancer in those now seasoned “buds” or the aforementioned Nether
Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and
pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves.

Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when
men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life’s cake: Being
able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks…

So, while I love being a woman, “Womanhood” would make the Great
Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the “weaker sex”? Yeah right.
Bite me.

~Author Unknown~

from The Mountain:
I did let my wife and sister-in-law read this.

Forward this issue to a friend or send them the link below:
http://www.mountainwings.com/past/8212.htm