Sunday, January 25, 2009

Here's wishing all BBians (and non-BBians too!) a very auspicious new year (: May you get many ang pows!

As most of us J2s are born in the year of the sheep, why not find out our fortunes for the year to come? (from http://www.chinesefortunecalendar.com/)

If your birthday is before February 4, then your astrological sign is Horse, not Sheep. (Verify Your Sign)

Sheep people had a better luck than most of people in 2008, year of Rat. All career, money, love and health had good news to them last year. However, the year of Cow will be different. This is because Cow and Sheep have fighting relationship, which could bring things turbulent. Sheep people need to pay attention at work, at home or traveling to avoid argument, lawsuit, blooding, accident or money loss. In general, they have to spend lots of effort to overcome many hardship in 2009.


Career: Since the fighting relationship between Sheep and Cow, Sheep people shouldn't have great career performance in 2009. There is no Lucky Star appearing, but many Unlucky Stars coming to career area in year of 2009. This is very unfavorable to your job position. Your job duty will be heavier. The difficulty level of the task will be higher. The schedule of the project will be tighter. Unexpected obstacles will come to you. The progress of the plan will be slowing down. You will be losing trust from your boss. Also, you will involve the issue on company personnel coordination. Then, you cannot concentrate on your daily business. Therefore, you don't have the chance and time to show off your job ability. If the company has financial trouble, then you have to find a way to save your position.

Money: Career is always the major factor to determine the money luck. If your career luck is poor, then you shouldn't expect any extra income from your job. There is a Broken Star in the money area. That means it's hard to accumulate the wealth in this year. You might lose money since gambling, wrong business deal, risky investment or accident. Whatever you earn, you will spend it at the end and you won't have any extra savings. Therefore, you need to think about balancing the budget before spending money in 2009.

Love: Neither a Love Star nor an Unlucky Star is coming in love area this year. Therefore the love fortune for Sheep people is fair this year. Your partner will complaint about your attitude on your love relationship because of your constantly absence of mind. Maybe the pressure from your job, you don't have good temper like before and lose your passion in love. In order to keep your love relationship, you need to pay attention on your words and deeds.

Health: The fighting relationship between Sheep and Cow always brings something to trouble people. Too much worry could bring people illness. If you are senior, then you have to watch for your health this year. Whenever feeling uncomfortable, you need to visit the doctor and don't let a tiny illness become a serious disease. If you are a young Sheep people, you need to make sure you have good sleeping quality. No enough sleep at night lets you lose energy during daytime, impact your working efficiency and then affect your health and your job.

Fortune: Because your career luck and money luck are unstable in 2009. You have better to keep your profile low. You need to bear the challenge and endure the trouble, stick on your position and must avoid changing your job. If possible, you also have better not to travel to long distance, not to attend funeral, not to visit the sick people, not do home improvement or redecoration. Your health should be fair. If you have a long term disease, as long as you pay attention on it, you can keep the same health. In general, Sheep people must not show off themselves and don't try to be a hero in 2009. They should only focus on their job responsibilities, then they will have a safe and peaceful year of Cow.

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Friday, January 16, 2009

Hey BBians!

To kickstart this academic year, why not see how well you maintained your brain over the holidays by by attempting this IQ test!

This is a Japanese IQ test said to be used by employers and universities to vet applicants. The average Japenese takes 15 minutes to solve it.

The object of the game is to get everyone across to the other side of the river. These are the rules:

1. Only two people can travel at once
2. Daddy can not stay with the girls without the presence of the mother
3. Mum can't stay with the boys without the presence of the father
4. The arrested red-hair girl in stripy outfit cannot stay with any of the family members without the Police officer
5. Only the Police officer and the parents can drive the boat across the river

To try it click on the big round blue button to start (:

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Thursday, January 1, 2009

HAPPY NEW YEAR BBIANS!

Do you have any new year's resolutions? Why not start making a list and sticking it on your room wall or your blog to remind yourself to keep them!

2008 was certainly a tumultous year around the world. But we've made it through, and may 2009 be a happy and fruitful year for us all (:

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Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Story by Brenna Hall
http://www.noelnoelnoel.com/trad/redgreen.html

Clara and Maria entered their house and closed the door.

They were living in Germany in about 1572 and they had just come in from getting apples. They had just brought home apples from the market and were now getting thin cookies, cutting out paper roses and apples to put on their Christmas tree.

Maria, the younger of the two sisters, asked, “Why do we use green and red at Christmastime?”

Clara, the oldest said, “Well, we use green because we use evergreens – like our tree. Evergreens represent everlasting life. Christ died for us and he still lives -- maybe not on earth but in heaven. That is what everlasting life is.”

While the girls decorated the rest of the tree, Clara continued telling Maria other legends and stories of the green and red colors at Christmas.

“Even before Christ, there were men and women called druids that worshipped the earth. They used evergreens in the winter to show that the woodland and fairies live with them during winter.

The Romans kept branches during winter through the beginning of January and then they would exchange branches with their friends. They would trade them to show a sign of good luck.

The Egyptians treasured and worshipped evergreens. When the winter solstice arrived they would bring palm trees into their homes to show triumph over death, even though it doesn’t last all through winter.

There are even several legends of the Christmas tree. Like Martin Luther, in the year 1535. I will tell you about him. He was the one that first put lights on the Christmas tree. He was walking home one evening after he had been giving a sermon and he saw the stars above the evergreens and he was very amazed. He wanted to be able to show his family and recapture the scene so he brought candles and a tree into his living room, put the candles on the tree and that is how we got the lights.”

Maria smiled and looked up at their tree. She loved Christmas. The tree made the drab days of winter just outside their little home a lot brighter. “Do you know any more stories?” she asked.

“I know two more,” Clara continued.

“One about a man named Saint Boniface. Saint Boniface was an English missionary and was out walking when he came upon some men about to cut a huge oak tree as a stake for a human sacrifice to their pagan god. With one mighty blow, Saint Boniface chopped down the tree and a beautiful young fir tree sprang from the center. He told the men that its branches were pointing to heaven.

My last story to tell you is about a poor woodsman. He was walking home one night when he came upon a hungry child. Even though he was very poor himself he gave the child food and shelter for the night. When he awoke the next morning he rose to find a sparkling tree outside his house. The child was really the Christ child in disguise. And the tree was a gift as a reward for his charity.”

Maria smiled again as the thought of her own Christmas tree warmed her.

“Before you were born and I was very young, there were these things called Paradise Plays.” Clara said.

“They were plays showing parts of the Bible. And they had things in them like evergreens and apples, wafers and things like we are using right now. They were plays of the Garden of Eden and Adam and Eve. The apples were the fruit and they would play out the story every year on December 24th.”

Clara paused, and then frowned a little. “But a little while after the people in the plays became very rude. And the Catholic Church didn’t think the plays were very respectful. So they made it so we couldn’t have those plays anymore.”

Clara stopped and thought for a moment. ”Well, I have explained green and I guess these plays are a good way to explain why we use red.”

“First, remember how I told about the apples from the Paradise Plays? They were red. They were used to represent the fall of Adam. When the Church stopped the plays people brought trees into their homes and now we use apples in our celebrations at home.”

“Holly is also red and is used to represent Christ’s drops of blood. The Romans used holly to make wreathes to represent the crown of thorns that Christ wore. Druids, the men and women that worship the earth, used holly in the winter to show that during winter when all the trees lose their leaves there is still beauty on earth. They also wore holly in their hair when they went to watch the Pagan priests cut the mistletoe.”

About one hundred to two hundred years after Maria and Clara’s time, German and English people coming to America, brought the Christmas tree tradition with them. Now, four hundred years after Maria and Clara’s time things have changed a lot. Today we still use evergreens at Christmas time, but sometimes now we even use artificial trees.

We use red and green with the tree, decorations, wrapping paper, bows and ribbons. Red and GREEN IS USED EVERYWHERE!

best festive wishes,
BBHousecomm0809 (:

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Wednesday, November 12, 2008

"A poet can write about a man slaying a dragon, but not about a man pushing a button that releases a bomb” - W. H. Auden

Dragons, although mythical, have inspired countless people across the globe. From the snake-like creatures of Asia to the winged beasts of Europe, dragons have inhabited the imaginations of vastly different cultures. But while their appearances may be similar, the way they are viewed is not. In Asia, the dragon is an auspicious symbol, yet in Europe, the dragon is often a possessor of negative characteristics such as greed, and are often slain by a handsome hero knight.

Of course, the good qualities of the dragon are not to be ignored. The dragon is intelligent, strong creature, and its body is said to be extremely useful. For a more in-depth explanation of how amazing the dragon is, go here.

In case you are now craving for some dragon-related entertainment, why not get a dragon tattoo? Or, if you are more law-abiding, why not scoot to the library and find books like Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling), The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien) and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (C.S. Lewis). Or, why not go to the zoo to see some amazing komodo dragons?

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Wednesday, November 5, 2008

So, the US presidential elections have just come to a close after an immensely long race. The president-elect, Mr Obama, is totally awesome. No, we're kidding, but he does have several very green plans for the years to come.

Mr Obama's presidential campaign has laid out an energy plan full of proposals such as a strict cap and trade program for carbon emissions, ambitious energy efficiency targets and billions of dollars in investments in energy research.

Let's hope that they do get implemented and make the world a cleaner, greener place (:

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Wednesday, October 29, 2008

In a few years' time doubtless many of us here will be zipping around Singapore in trendy fuel-guzzling machines. Yes, a few more years and we'll be driving our own cars! But, as Buckle-Buckleyians, it's important that we don't forget our roots and learn to buckle up!

In Singapore, you can be fined for not wearing your seatbelt, which is definitely an incentive for not buckling up. Yet in recent years, this fear has died down, and many are now deciding to forgo the safety harness, perhaps because it is uncomfortable or because one is lazy, with possibly devastating consequences.

Did you know that Singapore has the worst road fatalities record amongst developed countries? In 2005, there were 6,706 accidents and injuries - of which 173 people died. In 2006, this rose to 7,499 incidents, and 190 deaths. Last year, it went up again - to 8,323 accidents, with 219 killed.

And, even if you trust the driver with your life, the same cannot be said for rest of the drivers on the road. Despite being certified, occasionally there are people who drink heavily or be suddenly incapable of driving (heart attack, maybe?). So, to protect your life and those of your loved ones, when you grow up and leave our dear college, remember the house you were in (:

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Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The Stand Up Take Action 2008 must undoubtedly have inspired many of you kind-hearted BBians to do your part in reducing poverty and inequality. Yet apart from ending poverty and hunger, did you know that another millennium development goal is to ensure environmental sustainability? In almost all areas of the world, valuable resources are being depleted at an alarming rate due to man's insatiable desire for wealth. The impact on our biodiversity and sanitation may mean that the Earth will lose its green and blue.

Environmental sustainability is closely associated with poverty; polluted waters carry diseases and trap those dependent on it in a vicious cycle of hospital bills. And having a resource that is not in danger of being depleted will provide a steady source of income. A more sustainable lifestyle will lead to a more sustainable environment, and vice versa, making the world a greener and better place to live.

We, not only as BBians, but as Rafflesians, Singaporeans, and citizens of the Earth, should take responsibility for our greenhouse gases and do our part in saving the Earth. It's the little things that make the biggest difference: switching off the lights when you are not using them (saves you money!); using the fan instead of the air-con (saves you money: electricity and that sweater); not using styofoam plates (did you know that styrofoam contains harmful chemicals that build up in your body?). There are other things you can do to improve sanitation and reduce biodiversity loss, like contribute to the Sanitation Project and not purchase items derived from threatened species (like sharks' fin).

Just like standing up against poverty, it doesn't take much to do your part in protecting the environment. And if you feel like inspiring that environmentally-loving side of you, here are some movies you can watch:
#1 Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind
#2 Wall-E
Feel free to add to the list!

Let us work together to make the world a better place!

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Monday, October 6, 2008

You probably know the origins of Buckle and Buckley, but how about the origins of our house colour? How about the origins of the word green? The colour green originates from grene or groeni in Old English, which are in turn very closely related to the word growan, meaning "to grow". Its probably pretty obvious that the growth of plants contributes largely to the relationship between "growing" and "green".

To the Muslims, green is a sacred colour; in Egypt, floors of temples are green, among the Greeks and Moors, it signified victory, Scottish Highlanders wore it as a mark of honour: Certainly, green is regarded with much reverence around the world (as it is in Raffles Junior College!).

So there we are, the very first Bean of the Week. Green – A colour symbolizing growth, honour and victory in so many different cultures. In the context of Buckle-Buckley, let us not merely wish for growth as a house but as members of the house, victory not just for BB but for each and every one of us.

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Friday, May 16, 2008

Taking Chances, Making Chances

Taking Chances, Making Chances
by Steve Goodier

Lecturer Charles Hobbs sometimes tells about a woman who lived in London over a century ago. She saved what little money she could working as a scullery maid and used it one evening to hear a great speaker of her day. His speech moved her deeply and she waited to visit with him afterward. "How fine it must be to have had the opportunities you have had in life," she said.

"My dear lady," he replied, "have you never received an opportunity?"

"Not me. I have never had a chance," she said. "What do you do?" the speaker asked.

She answered, "I peel onions and potatoes in my sister's boarding house."

"How long have you been doing this?" he pursued. "Fifteen miserable years!"

"And where do you sit?" he continued.

"Why, on the bottom step in the kitchen." She looked puzzled.

"And where do you put your feet?"

"On the floor," she answered, more puzzled.

"What is the floor?"

"It is glazed brick."

Then he said, "My dear lady, I will give you an assignment today. I want you to write me a letter about the brick."

Against her protests about being a poor writer, he made her promise to complete the assignment.

The next day, as she sat down to peel onions, she gazed at the brick floor. That evening she pulled one loose, took it to a brick factory and asked the owner to explain to her how bricks were made.

Still not satisfied, she went to a library and found a book on bricks. She learned that 120 different kinds of brick and tile were being produced in England at the time. She discovered how clay beds, which existed for millions of years, were formed. Her research captivated her imagination and she spent every spare moment learning more. She returned to the library night after night and this woman, who never had a chance, gradually began to climb the steps of knowledge.

After months of study, she set out to write her letter as promised. She sent a 36-page document about the brick in her kitchen and, to her surprise, she received a letter back. Enclosed was payment for her research. He had published her letter! And along with the money came a new assignment - this time he asked her to write about what she found underneath the brick.

For the first time in her life she could hardly wait to get back to the kitchen! She pulled up the brick and there was an ant. She held it in her hand and examined it.

That evening, she hurried back to the library to study ants. She learned that there were hundreds of different kinds of ants. Some were so small they could stand on the head of a pin; while others were so large one could feel the weight of them in one's hand. She started her own ant colony and examined ants underneath a lens.

Several months later she wrote her findings in a 350-page "letter." It, too, was eventually published. She soon quit her kitchen job to take up writing.

Before she died, she had traveled to the lands of her dreams and had experienced more than she ever imagined possible! This is the woman who had never had a chance.

Some people wait for opportunity to come knocking. Here is a person who sought it out, proving again that we can be more than victims of mere circumstance.


If given a chance, will you take it? If given no chance, can you make one?

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Friday, April 25, 2008

Coffee

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all his former students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups and were eyeing each other's cups. Now consider this: Life is the coffee, and the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and do not change the quality of Life. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided."

So, don't let the cups drive you... enjoy the coffee instead.

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Sunday, April 6, 2008

What Is Poverty?

Jo Goodwin Parker

The following selection was published in America's Other Children: Public Schools Outside Suburbs, by George Henderson in 1971 by the University of Oklahoma Press. The author has requested that no biographical information about her be distributed. The essay is a personal account, addressed directly to the reader, about living in poverty.

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You ask me what is poverty? Listen to me. Here I am, dirty, smelly, and with no "proper" underwear on and with the stench of my rotting teeth near you. I will tell you. Listen to me. Listen without pity. I cannot use your pity. Listen with understanding. Put yourself in my dirty, worn out, ill-fitting shoes, and hear me.

Poverty is getting up every morning from a dirt- and illness-stained mattress. The sheets have long since been used for diapers. Poverty is living in a smell that never leaves. This is a smell of urine, sour milk, and spoiling food sometimes joined with the strong smell of long-cooked onions. Onions are cheap. If you have smelled this smell, you did not know how it came. It is the smell of the outdoor privy. It is the smell of young children who cannot walk the long dark way in the night. It is the smell of the mattresses where years of "accidents" have happened. It is the smell of the milk which has gone sour because the refrigerator long has not worked, and it costs money to get it fixed. It is the smell of rotting garbage. I could bury it, but where is the shovel? Shovels cost money.

Poverty is being tired. I have always been tired. They told me at the hospital when the last baby came that I had chronic anemia caused from poor diet, a bad case of worms, and that I needed a corrective operation. I listened politely - the poor are always polite. The poor always listen. They don't say that there is no money for iron pills, or better food, or worm medicine. The idea of an operation is frightening and costs so much that, if I had dared, I would have laughed. Who takes care of my children? Recovery from an operation takes a long time. I have three children. When I left them with "Granny" the last time I had a job, I came home to find the baby covered with fly specks, and a diaper that had not been changed since I left. When the dried diaper came off, bits of my baby's flesh came with it. My other child was playing with a sharp bit of broken glass, and my oldest was playing alone at the edge of a lake. I made twenty-two dollars a week, and a good nursery school costs twenty dollars a week for three children. I quit my job.

Poverty is dirt. You can say in your clean clothes coming from your clean house, "Anybody can be clean." Let me explain about housekeeping with no money. For breakfast I give my children grits with no oleo or cornbread without eggs and oleo. This does not use up many dishes. What dishes there are, I wash in cold water and with no soap. Even the cheapest soap has to be saved for the baby's diapers. Look at my hands, so cracked and red. Once I saved for two months to buy a jar of Vaseline for my hands and the baby's diaper rash. When I had saved enough, I went to buy it and the price had gone up two cents. The baby and I suffered on. I have to decide every day if I can bear to put my cracked sore hands into the cold water and strong soap. But you ask, why not hot water? Fuel costs money. If you have a wood fire it costs money. If you burn electricity, it costs money. Hot water is a luxury. I do not have luxuries. I know you will be surprised when I tell you how young I am. I look so much older. My back has been bent over the wash tubs every day for so long, I cannot remember when I ever did anything else. Every night I wash every stitch my school age child has on and just hope her clothes will be dry by morning.

Poverty is staying up all night on' cold nights to watch the fire knowing one spark on the newspaper covering the walls means your sleeping child dies in flames. In summer poverty is watching gnats and flies devour your baby's tears when he cries. The screens are torn and you pay so little rent you know they will never be fixed. Poverty means insects in your food, in your nose, in your eyes, and crawling over you when you sleep. Poverty is hoping it never rains because diapers won't dry when it rains and soon you are using newspapers. Poverty is seeing your children forever with runny noses. Paper handkerchiefs cost money and all your rags you need for other things. Even more costly are antihistamines. Poverty is cooking without food and cleaning without soap.

Poverty is asking for help. Have you ever had to ask for help, knowing 6 your children will suffer unless you get it? Think about asking for a loan from a relative, if this is the only way you can imagine asking for help. I will tell you how it feels. You find out where the office is that you are supposed to visit. You circle that block four or five times. Thinking of your children, you go in. Everyone is very busy. Finally, someone comes out and you tell her that you need help. That never is the person you need to see. You go see another person, and after spilling the whole shame of your poverty all over the desk between you, you find that this isn't the right office after all-you must repeat the whole process, and it never is any easier at the next place.

You have asked for help, and after all it has a cost. You are again told to wait. You are told why, but you don't really hear because of the red cloud of shame and the rising cloud of despair.

Poverty is remembering. It is remembering quitting school in junior high because "nice" children had been so cruel about my clothes and my smell. The attendance officer came. My mother told him I was pregnant. I wasn't, but she thought that I could get a job and help out. I had jobs off and on, but never long enough to learn anything. Mostly I remember being married. I was so young then. I am still young. For a time, we had all the things you have. There was a little house in another town, with hot water and everything. Then my husband lost his job. There was unemployment insurance for a while and what few jobs I could get. Soon, all our nice things were repossessed and we moved back here. I was pregnant then. This house didn't look so bad when we first moved in. Every week it gets worse. Nothing is ever fixed. We now had no money. There were a few odd jobs for my husband, but everything went for food then, as it does now. I don't know how we lived through three years and three babies, but we did. I'll tell you something, after the last baby I destroyed my marriage. It had been a good one, but could you keep on bringing children in this dirt? Did you ever think how much it costs for any kind of birth control? I knew my husband was leaving the day he left, but there were no goodbye between us. I hope he has been able to climb out of this mess somewhere. He never could hope with us to drag him down.

That's when I asked for help. When I got it, you know how much it was? It was, and is, seventy-eight dollars a month for the four of us; that is all I ever can get. Now you know why there is no soap, no needles and thread, no hot water, no aspirin, no worm medicine, no hand cream, no shampoo. None of these things forever and ever and ever. So that you can see clearly, I pay twenty dollars a month rent, and most of the rest goes for food. For grits and cornmeal, and rice and milk and beans. I try my best to use only the minimum electricity. If I use more, there is that much less for food.

Poverty is looking into a black future. Your children won't play with my boys. They will turn to other boys who steal to get what they want. I can already see them behind the bars of their prison instead of behind the bars of my poverty. Or they will turn to the freedom of alcohol or drugs, and find themselves enslaved. And my daughter? At best, there is for her a life like mine.

But you say to me, there are schools. Yes, there are schools. My children have no extra books, no magazines, no extra pencils, or crayons, or paper and most important of all, they do not have health. They have worms, they have infections, they have pink-eye all summer. They do not sleep well on the floor, or with me in my one bed. They do not suffer from hunger, my seventy-eight dollars keeps us alive, but they do suffer from malnutrition. Oh yes, I do remember what I was taught about health in school. It doesn't do much good.

In some places there is a surplus commodities program. Not here. The country said it cost too much. There is a school lunch program. But I have two children who will already be damaged by the time they get to school.

But, you say to me, there are health clinics. Yes, there are health clinics and they are in the towns. I live out here eight miles from town. I can walk that far (even if it is sixteen miles both ways), but can my little children? My neighbor will take me when he goes; but he expects to get paid, one way or another. I bet you know my neighbor. He is that large man who spends his time at the gas station, the barbershop, and the corner store complaining about the government spending money on the immoral mothers of illegitimate children.

Poverty is an acid that drips on pride until all pride is worn away. Poverty is a chisel that chips on honor until honor is worn away. Some of you say that you would do something in my situation, and maybe you would, for the first week or the first month, but for year after year after year?

Even the poor can dream. A dream of a time when there is money. Money for the right kinds of food, for worm medicine, for iron pills, for toothbrushes, for hand cream, for a hammer and nails and a bit of screening, for a shovel, for a bit of paint, for some sheeting, for needles and thread. Money to pay in money for a trip to town. And, oh, money for hot water and money for soap. A dream of when asking for help does not eat away the last bit of pride. When the office you visit is as nice as the offices of other governmental agencies, when there are enough workers to help you quickly, when workers do not quit in defeat and despair. When you have to tell your story to only one person, and that person can send you for other help and you don't have to prove your poverty over and over and over again.

I have come out of my despair to tell you this. Remember I did not come from another place or another time. Others like me are all around you. Look at us with an angry heart, anger that will help.

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Monday, March 24, 2008

Unconditional Love

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.

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Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Friends are the ones who care

Answer the following questions.

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winner for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.

How did you do?

The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.

These are no second-rate achievers.

They are the best in their fields.

But the applause dies.

Awards tarnish.

Achievements are forgotten.

Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.


Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

Easier?

The lesson:
The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards.

They are the ones that care.

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Monday, March 3, 2008

Sights and Sounds of an Empty House

I watch with a discreet eye, as you step out of the bed. The morning sun frames your slender silhouette as you wrestle your hair into shape. You reach over (as my eyes quickly shut) and brush my hair gently, in affection that you seem never to get tired of. I see your shadow dance across my eyelids, and I open them again to watch you pick up the dishes on your way out of the door.

Then I open my eyes again. This time, there is no one, only the wispy curtains fluttering, fighting, foreboding rain. The phone rings and another friend – the one we met at cooking class – leaves a concerned message, recounting how she too lost someone. It is ironic, really, how she makes perfect sense to me, but the words just glance off my brain and into throws of the sheets.

You were here just a week ago. Your bathrobe encapsulates me, breathing your scent into the dank atmosphere. This is the scent that poured into the room with you stepping out of the shower, drying your hair with a smile (your smile) and a story of your day of an insolent customer, your uptight boss, Sheila, the cleaning lady. You paced the room around the bed to put the finishing touches to your flawless skin, picking up towels and clothes strewn from the morning rush and depositing them into the basket. Slowly, you turned off the lights – bath, dresser, bedside – before slipping between the sheets, right up against my arm. The conversation continued to prance about in the darkness, flirting with the occasional giggle.

The room is silent now, albeit dark. The T.V. throws shadows and lights in array of patterns onto the ceiling. At this point, for some reason, I decide to get out of bed. “Time to move on, come on,” I repeat under my breath. You’d think after 1 year of you helping me out of bed I would have learnt how to do it myself, but I still find some difficulty in traversing from bed to wheelchair without falling into the chasm in-between. I knock the bottles of beer onto the wooden floor, but I make it.
It was easier when your slender hand held my arm as I heaved myself into the chair. For a woman your size, you were unexpectedly strong. Once I eased myself into the groaning frame of the wheel-chair, you pushed me out into the corridor and stop at the stairs. The light of the day seems to make up for dialogue, as I watched struggling to move me down the steep stairs without me plummeting headfirst into the wall. You seemed so much more tired when you woke up. Did you realize then every morning, that this is your husband? This man whom you swore to take care of on an altar a year ago? The sound of my voice didn’t sound right without yours, so I looked out silently at the glowing sky, listening to the sounds of your cutlery over the breakfast table.

The squeaking of the wheels as I make my way down the corridor patters along the dusty carpet. It is quite a daunting task to maneuver this place without catching a box by the edge or getting cloth stuck in the wheel, but I do. I gratefully open the door to the refrigerator that sits majestically at the hall; since you’ve been gone, the last other person I talked to here were the friends who forced all my furniture into the second floor, ‘for my convenience’. I consider getting someone to help me with groceries as I try to find something edible amongst the numerous packets of microwave dinners. Unfortunately, the slight stench met unkindly with my alcohol-drenched guts, and my empty stomach urges me to the toilet – which resided downstairs. I drudgingly get out of my chair, and drag my two redundant limbs behind me as I pull myself with effort towards the top of the stairs.

I found myself in the same position that night, I remember. Arms sprawled on the floor, face plastered to the ground, except that quiet Saturday, I had a foot against my back, and your screams pierced the silence. I was dressed better too – after all, we had just come from a night out at the movies – and so were you. Perhaps if I had told you how beautiful you looked that night in the car instead of (unromantically) in the deserted parking lot, no one would have heard me but you, and no one would have decided to take action upon it. No one would have pushed me out of the chair and pinned me to the ground. No one would have grabbed you by the shoulders and – I watched helpless, as they proceeded to abuse you, leaving you in a pile of blood and your best dress, as quiet as the night. The dim streetlamp highlighted a slow path of red creeping towards a drain, the only trace of the clamorous mob that came as quickly as they left. I could hardly hear my cries for help over the deafening silence.

I return to my wheelchair after relieving myself and mounting the stairs, to resume the enthusiastic squeaking of the wheels. I maneuver the hall from room to room, around the furniture and boxes that you cleaned and arranged but today lie undignified beneath cobwebs and each other. With each room I enter, the thunder roars more loudly, as if God himself was there with me in my rounds. The rooms are empty save for the deepening darkness that plays a prelude for the storm. I search each and every room for something that seems to linger in the silence – I wouldn’t be staring blankly otherwise – what was there to find?

I search each and every room.

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(1) BBians have spoken.

Monday, February 25, 2008

$20

A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20.00 note in a room of 200 people and asked, 'Who would like this $20 bill?'

Hands started going up.

He said, 'I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this.' He proceeded to crumple up the $20 dollar bill .

He then asked, 'Who still wants it?'

Still the hands were up in the air.

He replied, 'Well, what if I do this?' And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty.

'Now, who still wants it?'

Still the hands went into the air.
Then he said, 'My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20.'

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Monday, February 18, 2008

A Voyaging Ship

A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two of the men on it were able to swim to a small, desert like island.

The two survivors, not knowing what else to do, agree that they had no other recourse but to pray to God. However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides of the island.

The first thing the first man prayed for was food. The next morning, the first man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land, and he was able to eat its fruit. The other man's parcel of land remained barren.

After a week, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survivor was a woman who swam to his side of the land. On the other side of the island, there was nothing.
Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, more food. The next day, like magic, all of these were given to him. However, the second man still had nothing.
Finally, the first man prayed for a ship, so that his wife and he could leave the island. In the morning, he found a ship docked at his side of the island. The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the second man on the island. He considered the other man unworthy to receive God’s blessings, since none of his prayers had been answered.

As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from Heaven booming, "Why are you leaving your companion on the island?" “My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who prayed for them," the first man answered. "His prayers were all unanswered, and so he does not deserve anything."

“You are mistaken!" the voice rebuked him. "He had only one prayer, which I answered. If not for that, you would not have received any of my blessings."
"Tell me," The first man asked the voice, "What did he pray for that I should owe him anything?"

“He prayed that all your prayers be answered."

For all we know, our blessings are not the fruits of our prayers alone, but those of another praying for us. When Jesus died on the cross he was thinking of you!

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Monday, February 11, 2008

Who You Love

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II

During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York.

“You’ll recognize me, ” she wrote, “by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.” So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he’d never seen.

I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young women was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, sailor?” she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A women well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the women whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the women, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. “I’m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”

The women’s face broadened into a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!”

It’s not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell’s wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in it’s response to the unattractive. “Tell me whom you love,” Houssaye wrote, “And I will tell you who you are.”

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Saturday, February 2, 2008

Slow Dance
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?

You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die

Cause you never had time
To call and say,'Hi'

You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift...Thrown away.

Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

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(0) BBians have spoken.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

(0) BBians have spoken.