The Chicken and the Duck

It is the relationship anniversary of a couple, in a time so long ago that we can't imagine when. Anyway, back to this couple. They were celebrating their anniversary with loving hugs, light kisses and a sumptious romantic lunch near to a lake. They happilly chit-chatted their way through half the afternoon, before deciding to take a walk around the lake.

As they were slowly strolling their romantic way through the park, they heard a sound:

"Quack, quack," it goes.

***

I'll pause here to let you guys figure out what it is.

Now now, it doesn't have to be that long... 5 more seconds

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

Got an idea of what it is? Yes? let's move on with the story, and find out what it is

***

The lady exclaimed, "Oh, I heard a chicken!"

Dismayed at the statement, our young gentleman corrected her, "No, my dear, it's a duck."

Thinking she is right, she retorted "No! It is definitely a chicken!"

"Quack quack," the sounds goes again.

Not wanting to give up, our gentleman hit back, "There, it's a duck! No chicken ever goes 'quack, quack!'"

"It's a chicken!"

"No, it's a duck! D. u. c. k. duck!"

... The argument went on for a while ...

Finally, teary eyes, the lady said "But, but, it's a chicken..."

Seeing the teary eyes, our gentleman finally saw the light, "Yes dear, it's a chicken."

Happy again that they finally agreed on something, they walk, hand in hand, toward the sunset.

"Quack, quack!"

***

So what is it? A duck, or a chicken? That we will never know. if you think it's a duck, it's a duck. if you think it's a chicken, chicken it is then. It is said that we can never be right and correct at the same time. We can be right, but not correct, as seen in the argument. Or, we can be correct, but not right, as seen in our gentleman's decision to yield. What matters is our priorities, which, in this case, means getting the animal right, or the relationship going.

Lesson of the month (December): We can never be correct and right at the same time.
Teary eyes is the best way to get guys to agree with you.

Source: How to Win Friends and Influence People -Dale Carnegie
Ajahn Brahm's anecdote during his talk "How to survive relationships"

Book: Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, Chapter Review: Chapter 1: "The Matthews' Rule"

It has been quite some time since I last read a book at the speed and enjoyment that I am having now, in fact, since I got myself a more or less permanent internet connection there in Germany. You see, having an almost always connection to the wide wide web causes my concentration to falter to such a degree that I can no longer single-task well. I really think I should disconnect once in a while, just so that I can catch my breath and get away from the overloading inflow of information for my many sources of news.

Anyway, that is not the point of this post today. This post will mark the starting of a new series of posts in this blog, talking about the books I am currently reading and the insights that it provided me with.

Currently I am reading the book Outliers written by Malcolm Gladwell. Gladwell had previously also written "The Tipping Point" and "Blink," all serving to point the little points that ultimately build up to success. In "The Outliers," Gladwell points out the various small external factors that lead up to success.

Chapter 1 of the book talks about the Matthew Effect, named after a phrase in the Matthew Gospel: "For unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance. But from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath." Matthew 25:29.   Gladwell talked about the peculiarities of the ice hockey professionals in Canada, and the football and hockey team of Czech Republic. When we look at the birth month of all these teams, almost all of the players were born early in their respective year.

This boils down to how the selection of the players when they are young are done. The cut off month for most selection process is put at the middle of the year, making those born later in the year not eligible. So, at a young tender age of 6 or 7, those born earlier in the year have a small advantage over those born later. This small difference builds up as the years passed, since the "best" will always be selected to train with better trainers. So after 10 or so years, the best players are the ones with this small advantage when they are young.

This trend continues in life as well. The best people in many fields gets better and better at their own field; the rich kept getting richer; the best athletes kept beating their own records; the best scientists kept discovering newer and better ways to generate energy. The list is endless.

So for me, the lesson from the first chapter in Outliers is clear: opportunities are essential to success. When the opportunity is there, seize it, no matter how small it is, and build on it. Success is often built on a good foundation. Once the basics are down, we can continue to the next step, which is hard work. This is outlined in the next chapter: The 10,000 hours rule. I'll post a discussion on this when I am done with that chapter.

C

A beautiful day

A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held
up a sign which said: "I am blind, please help!" There were only a few
coins in the hat.

A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them
into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words.
He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.

Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the
blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how
things were. The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, 'Were you the one
who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?'

The man said, 'I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a
different way.'
What he had written was: '*Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it.*'

Do you think the first sign and the second sign were saying the same thing?

Of course both signs told people the boy was blind. But the first sign
simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people they were so
lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the second sign
was more effective?

*Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be
innovative. Think differently and positively.*
Invite others towards good with wisdom. Live life with no excuse and love
with no regrets. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that
you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your
present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith
and drop the fear. *

Great men say, 'Life has to be an incessant process of repair and
reconstruction, of discarding evil and developing goodness.... In the
journey of life, if you want to travel without fear, you must have the
ticket of a good conscience.'

The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling...
And even more beautiful is, knowing that you are the reason behind it!

Gifts From the Heart

Copyright Jerry K. Bedrick

According to legend, a young man while roaming the desert came across a
spring of delicious crystal-clear water. The water was so sweet he filled
his leather canteen so he could bring some back to a tribal elder who had
been his teacher. After a four-day journey he presented the water to the old
man who took a deep drink, smiled warmly and thanked his student lavishly
for the sweet water. The young man returned to his village with a happy
heart.

Later, the teacher let another student taste the water. He spat it out,
saying it was awful. It apparently had become stale because of the old
leather container. The student challenged his teacher: "Master, the water
was foul. Why did you pretend to like it?"

The teacher replied, "You only tasted the water. I tasted the gift. The
water was simply the container for an act of loving-kindness and nothing
could be sweeter. Heartfelt gifts deserve the return gift of gratitude."

I think we understand this lesson best when we receive innocent gifts of
love from young children. Whether it's a ceramic tray or a macaroni
bracelet, the natural and proper response is appreciation and expressed
thankfulness because we love the idea within the gift.

Gratitude doesn't always come naturally. Unfortunately, most children and
many adults value only the thing given rather than the feeling embodied in
it. We should remind ourselves and teach our children about the beauty and
purity of feelings and expressions of gratitude. After all, gifts from the
heart are really gifts of the heart.

Michael Josephson
www.charactercounts.org

Taken from http://www.insightoftheday.com

Father Forgets

Picture from cenzdaddy.blogspot.com

Listen son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily across your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are things I was thinking: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things.You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as your started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved your hand and called, "Goodbye Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As i came up the road I spied on you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There are holes in your stockings. I humiliated you in front of your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive--and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it that you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck, and kissed me, and your arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect cannot wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, shortly afterwards my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding--this was my reward to you for being a boy. I was not that I did not love you, it was that I expected tii nuch of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heard of you was as big as dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matter tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt here, ashamed!

It was a feeble atonement, I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is nothing but a boy--a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

W. Livingston Larned

A carrot, an egg, and a cup of Oolong tea

OOLONG TEA……

A carrot, an egg, and a cup of Oolong tea…You will never look at a cup of Oolong the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed Oolong tea. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.

Then she ladled the Oolong out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."

"Carrots, eggs, and Oolong tea," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the Oolong. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The Oolong tea was unique, however. After they were in the boiling water , they had changed the water color and taste.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a Oolong tea?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the Oolong tea? The tea actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the tea, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a Oolong tea?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.

Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

credits to Kean Aun for forwarding this to me

One At A Time

I really shouldn't be blogging now, as my class test is on this friday, project due on following monday and another class test on tuesday and i am not prepared for any...really shouldn't waste anymore time and i am most probably has entered depression mode... but, like casper said, we should take a break to go further...so i was taking a break, checking through my long lists of unread emails and stumbled across this forwarded email, which i think it's exactly what i should be doing right now..."one at a time"...As i am now loaded with so many things to complete and 24 hours never seems to be adequate, this message came to me just at the right time, pulling me back on track... Thanks for whatever that brings the message to me at the right timing...Thanks for Xin Yin who forwarded the email to me:)

Hope this msg brings you some enlightenment too. Enjoy reading. :)

The Daffodil Principle

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come to see the daffodils before they are over."

I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead . "I will come next Tuesday", I promised a little reluctantly on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house I was welcomed by the joyful sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.

"Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see badly enough to drive another inch!"

My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'm heading for home!" I assured her.

"But first we're going to see the daffodils. It's just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I'll drive. I'm used to this."

"Carolyn," I said sternly, "Please turn around."

"It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that read, " Daffodil Garden ." We got out of the car, each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight.


It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain and its surrounding slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow. Each different colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.

"Who did this?" I asked Carolyn. "Just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her home." Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house.

On the patio, we saw a poster. "Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking", was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."

For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop. Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration.

That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time--often just one baby-step at time--and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world .

"It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!"

My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said.

She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use today?"

Use the Daffodil Principle. Stop waiting.....

Until your car or home is paid off

Until you get a new car or home

Until your kids leave the house

Until you go back to school

Until you finish school

Until you clean the house

Until you organize the garage

Until you clean off your desk

Until you lose 10 lbs.

Until you gain 10 lbs.

Until you get married

Until you get a divorce

Until you have kids

Until the kids go to school

Until you retire

Until summer

Until spring

Until winter

Until fall

Until you die...

There is no better time than right now to be happy.
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.
So work like you don't need money.
Love like you've never been hurt, and,

Dance like no one's watching.

Wishing you a beautiful, daffodil day!

Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.

The Most Beautiful Flower

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read

Beneath the long,straggly branches of an old willow tree.

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,

For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,

A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down

And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,

With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,

I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side

And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,

"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.

That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.

Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.

But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.

So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,

He held it mid-air without reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the very first time

That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun

As I thanked him for picking the very best one.

"You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play,

Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see

A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see

The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.

And for all of those times I myself had been blind,

I vowed to see the beauty in life,

And appreciate every second that's mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose

And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose

And smiled as I watched that young boy, Another weed in his hand,

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Source: www.moralstories.net

Realisation Part 11: Unconditional Love

Nine Emperor Gods Festival begins today. The road in front of Tow Boo Keong Ipoh had started to get jam-packed since morning. One side of the road became the temporary parking space for visitors and temporary stalls were build on the other side to provide space to sell the ‘ong khu’, flowers and incenses. People were bustling about with one hand carrying a bundle of incense and some others holding a stack of holy papers to be burnt. The older generation were sitting and waiting patiently in front of the performing stage for the opera show to start.

A girl and her dad walked pass the front entrance and there were three men performing some ritual acts. Mystical I thought, as I watched them walking passed the group of performers. They proceeded towards the praying area and searched for a nice spot on the first row of tables. The dad was happy to find a clear spot, not the most strategic but good enough to offer the ‘sou thou’, ‘ong khu’ and flowers to the gods. Being a Buddhist by default and receiving great influenced of Taoism since many generations ago, traditional festivals like this is hard to escape.

As a filial daughter, she helped him light up the incenses and followed him to pray to the Nine Emperor gods to seek for blessings, protection and well being. It took only a while to finish paying respect to all the gods. She took a rest at the edge of a pillar while he has his hands washed before asking for ‘chien’. She remained there for sometime while the dad went on to ‘qiu chien’. The girl appeared to have stomachache or something similar as her arms were wrapped tightly around her stomach. She became restless and perspired profusely. Crooked lines showed on her forehead. She squatted and moaned a little. Her face showed that she was in pain. Oh, life is full of sufferings.

After about 5 minutes of involuntary rapid hand and head movements, she went up to the dad to ask to leave early. Since there is only one more ‘chien’ left, she waited for another minute that seems like eternity. By the time the dad came over to her rescue, she was already sitting on the floor with her head between her knees. The dad tried to hold her up, but she was too weak. He held her up again and she fell. Again and again. A man who was praying nearby hurried to help and dragged her out of the smoky temple. The girl was feeling extremely dizzy, views blurred and almost collapsing. She didn’t know what went on until she was seated on a cold metal chair. Out of nowhere, few men came and helped to massage her to keep her consciousness. One lady who was selling towels in the stalls even offered a brand new towel to cover her from the chilly wind.

She remained subconscious and weak. Some suggested that the man massage the head, some aunty suggested massaging the shoulder. Some massaged the back. Finally she vomited brown liquid on the floor and requested for a toilet. Since she was only half conscious, few ladies held her into the toilet but only two were left inside to hold the vege-like fragile figure of hers. It is difficult to even hold up the head what more the whole body. The dad went to bring the car in despite the number of people and exhibitions there. By the time she came out, she was so weak that she couldn’t even walk. Thanks to these strong men they carried her into the car and she was finally lied down on the cushion.

The dad’s love is so great that it is incomparable to anything else. The dad must have been so worried. It is touching to feel the unconditional love showered upon his little girl. It is even more touching to be the girl. Thanks dad. I love you. May the people who helped be well and happy always. You guys have filled the world with LOVE. These good seeds you sow will soon bear their sweet fruits. Sahdu!

The Professor & The Youngman

A young man, a student in the university, was one day taking a walk with a professor, who was commonly called the students' friend for his kindness to those who waited on his instructions.


As they went along, they saw lying in the path a pair of old shoes, which were supposed to belong to a poor man who was working in a field close by, and who had nearly finished his day's work . . .


Student turned to the professor, saying: "Let us play the man a trick:
we will hide his shoes, and hide ourselves behind those bushes, and wait to see his perplexity when he cannot find them ..."


"My young friend," answered the professor, "We should never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor . . . But you are rich, and may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of this poor man. Put a coin in each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves and watch how this affects him."



The student did so and they both placed themselves behind the bushes close by. The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path where he had left his coat and shoes . . .While putting on his coat he slipped his foot into one of his shoes, but feeling something hard, he stooped down to feel what it was, and found the coin. Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance.


He gazed upon the coin, turned it around and looked at it again and again.
He then looked around him on all sides, but no person was to be seen. He now put the money into his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; but his surprise was doubled on finding the other coin . . .


His feelings overcame him . . . he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom this timely bounty, from some unknown hand, would save from perishing . . .


The student stood there deeply affected, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Now," said the professor, are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?"
The youth replied, "You have taught me a lesson which I will never forget. .. I feel now the truth of these words, which I never understood before: "It's more blessed to give than to receive."

If you want happiness... .For a lifetime - help someone . . .

When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy.. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, "you are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs." Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, "Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls."

Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife.. But I couldn't help doing so.

I moved Dew's hands aside and said "you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I've got something to do in the company." Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, "He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together."

I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I've got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I'm serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry.. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "you are not a man!"

That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.

Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in the month's time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, "do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day?" This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember. "You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning."

I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically.

I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don't tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, "The outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there."

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn't tell Dew about this.

I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain.. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. "Dad, it's time to carry mum out." He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, "actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old."

I held her tightly and said, "both you and I didn't notice that our life lacked intimacy."

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, "Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious."

She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead.

"You got no fever.." She said.

I moved her hand off my head. "Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you."

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until we are old."

touched?

Why me?

Arthur Ashe, the legendary Wimbledon player was dying of AIDS which he got due to infected blood he received during a heart surgery in 1983.


From world over, he received letters from his fans, one of which conveyed: "Why does GOD have to select you for such a bad disease"?


To this Arthur Ashe replied: "The world over -- 50 million children start playing tennis, 5 million learn to play tennis, 500,000learn professional tennis, 50,000 come to the circuit, 5000 reach the grand slam, 50 reach Wimbledon, 4 to semi final, 2 to the finals, When I was holding a cup I never asked GOD "Why me?". (Dear Arthur, It's you because you work hard and you train hard. You strive to be the best and so you play the best tennis and you won!! You will not win what you've won without working hard. But i bet you didn't work hard to get AIDS. So perhaps you are entitled to ask "Why me?!" the blood should have been checked to ensure it is not contaminated before it's being put into you...)


And today in pain I should not be asking GOD "Why me?"

"Happiness keeps you Sweet, Trials keep you Strong, Sorrow keeps you Human, Failure Keeps you humble and Success keeps you glowing, but only Faith & Attitude Keeps you going.....

Story taken from Joon Quek's message in the INVOVAR mailing list...

An animated mouse trap story

I lifted this story from Incovar mailing list, enjoy ;)

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package.

What food might this contain?" The mouse wondered - he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning:
There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, "Mr.Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me.I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The pig sympathized, but said, I am so very sorry, Mr.Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray.

Be assured you are in my prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow and said "There is a mousetrap in the ho use!There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The cow said,
"Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house -- like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey.

The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.

The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital , and she returned home with a fever.

Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main

ingredient.

But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock.

To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.

The farmer's wife did not get well; she died.

So many people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow
slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.

So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you, remember -- when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.

We are all involved in this journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort to encourage one another.

REMEMBER...

Each of us is a vital thread in another person's tapestry;

Our lives are woven together for a reason.

One of the best things to hold onto in this world is a friend

seehua
*Let's create a world full of love~

A very beautiful advice...

A simple man tells how his booking an air ticket for his father, his first flight, brought emotions and made him realize that how much we all take for granted when it comes to our parents.

My parents left for our native place on Thursday and we went to the airport to see them off. In fact, my father had never traveled by air before, so I just took this opportunity to make him experience the same. In spite of being asked to book tickets by train, I got them tickets on Lufthansa.

The moment I handed over the tickets to him, he was surprised to see that I had booked them by air. The excitement was very apparent on his face, waiting for the time of travel. Just like a school boy, he was preparing himself on that day and we all went to the airport, right from using the trolley for his luggage, the baggage check-in and asking for window seat and waiting restlessly for the security check-in to happen.
He was thoroughly enjoying himself and I, too, was overcome with joy watching him experience all these things.

As they were about to go in for the security check-in, he walked up to me with tears in his eyes and thanked me. He became very emotional and it was not as if I had done something great but the fact that this meant a great deal to him.

When he said thanks, I told him there was no need to thank me.

But later, thinking about the entire incident, I looked back at my life.

As a child how many dreams our parents have made come true. Without understanding the financial situation, we ask for football, dresses, toys, outings, etc. Irrespective of their affordability, they have satisfied to all our needs. Did we ever think about the sacrifices they had to make to accommodate many of our wishes?

Did we ever say thanks for all that they have done for us?

Same way, today when it comes to our children, we always think that we should put them in a good school. Regardless of the amount of donation, we will ensure that we will have to give the child the best, theme parks, toys, etc. But we tend to forget that our parents have sacrificed a lot for our sake to see us happy, so it is our responsibility to ensure that their dreams are realized and what they failed to see when they were young, it is our responsibility to ensure that they experience all those and their life is complete.

Many times, when my parents had asked me some questions, I have actually answered back without patience. When my daughter asks me something, I have been very polite in answering. Now I realize how they would have felt at those moments.

Let us realize that old age is a second childhood and just as we take care of our children, the same attention and same care need to be given to our parents and elders.

Rather than my dad saying thank you to me, I would want to say sorry for making him wait so long for this small dream. I do realize how much he has sacrificed for my sake and I will do my best to give the best possible attention to all their wishes. Just because they are old does not mean that they will have to give up everything and keep sacrificing for their grandchildren also. They have wishes, too.

Let's Take care of our parents.

Source: A Retired Gentleman

Article lifted from an email from Jerry.

p/s: Happy April Fool's day to you all. Go read Chang Yang's blog for some relevations...
and happy birthday to Maryse too...

Hardest thing is learning to let go...

It had been raining for more than a week, so much rain it made everyday seemed so restless and gloomy. She called and said she was coming up. It was the third time she came up to see me that week. I carried her excuse of why she came all the way here and went to meet her at the nearby 7-11. She was standing there alone, carrying her red umbrella. Her friend had dropped her off. It was raining and she was shivering. She looked weak and fragile in the harsh rain, wearing not enough to keep her warm. I walked up to her and said, "You shouldn't come see me anymore," and stuff like how we shouldn't be together.

She said, "I miss you."

I told her coldly, "Lets go, I'll take you home."

She did not open up her umbrella, I knew she wanted to share mine.

I said, "Open up your umbrella, let's go."

Unwillingly, She opened up her umbrella and walked with me to the car. She said she hadn't eat lunch or dinner and asked if we could stop at some place to eat.

Right away I answered with a stoned heart, "No!"

Disappointed, she asked me to take her to the train station, she said she would take the train back home.

Maybe it was the rain, all the trains were full of people with umbrellas and suit cases who were eager to get home, not caring about who just passed by. We waited and waited, she looked at me innocently. Being together for so long, of course I knew what she meant. I understand how she must feel when she came all this way here in this kind of weather and I treat her like this. With her soft eyes staring at me, I felt guilt and wanted to let her stay for the night.

But reality struck again, I said to her coldly, "Let's go try the other train station."

We were living in the same apartment building, on the same floor. Back then there were four of us, and we got along well. We would always eat dinner together, watch movies, and sometimes go camping. We were more like a family, but I didn't know I would end up falling in love with the only girl of the four. Maybe it was during the last year of college, having living together for two years, we developed deep feelings for each other. After she graduated she went back home, and I stayed for one more year to finish school. During that year I was only able to take the train down to see her on holidays, but never for long. That was how we kept the treasured relationship.

We were walking along the side of the road. She was in front of me and I was right behind her. Her umbrella had a broken spoke. She looked liked a wounded soldier, carrying her rusted rifle walking weakly. Many times, she was too into thinking or whatever she was doing, drifting off the road, she almost got hit by the cars passing by. I wanted to just take her in my arms, but with the love I had for her and the constant pain in my stomach, I did nothing. On the way, we passed by the park where we use to always go.

She begged and said, "Lets go in the park just for a little while please, I promise I'll go home right after this."

With her begging, my cold heart softened, but I still put up an annoyed face and walked in the park. I was just sitting on the benches looking like I wanted to leave. She went to the big oak tree and she was looking for something. I knew she was looking for what we wrote on that tree with a silver ink pen half a year ago. If I remember it right, it said, "Chris and Susan was here, Chris had tea and Susan was drinking hot chocolate. Hope Chris and Susan would always remember this day, always loving each other, forever." She was looking around for quite a while, then she came back slowly with tears on her face.

She said, "Chris, I can't find it, it's not there anymore."

I felt so sour inside, there was a stream of pain, flowing into my heart, the kind of pain I've never felt before. But all I could do was pretend I didn't care, and said, "Can we go now?"

I opened up my big black umbrella, she was just standing there, didn't want to leave yet, hoping there was still a chance. She said, "You made up the story of you and that other girl didn't you? I know I frustrate you sometimes, but I'll change, can't we start over?"

I didn't say a word, just looked down and shook my head. After that we just kept on walking towards the train station, didn't say a word to each other.

Four years ago, the doctor said I had cancer, but it was found early, so it was still curable. Thinking that it was okay, I started living my normal life again, and even forgot about the cancer. I didn't think about the cancer again and did not go back to the doctor. Until a month ago, my stomach was hurting for two weeks straight, and the nightmare awakened me again. First I thought the pain would go away, but it grew stronger until to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. I went back to the doctor and took an X-ray.

The picture came out and there was a big black spot, which proved the truth that I did not want to believe. I was at the most glittering part of my life, but it was coming to an end. I wanted myself and the people around me to go through the least pain possible, so I decided to commit suicide. But I couldn't let people find out about my intentions, especially Susan, the person I love the most in this whole world, who still doesn't know about the truth. Susan was still young, she shouldn't have to go through this. So I made up some stories and lied to her. It was a cruel thing to do, and it broke her heart, but it was the fastest way to wipe out three years's feelings. I didn't have much time, because I would soon start to loose hair and she would find out eventually. But now I'm close to succeeding, this drama would soon be over. Thirty minutes more this would all come to an end, that was what I had in mind.

The train had stopped running so I called a taxi for her. We were just standing there, waiting, loosing our last moments in silence.

I saw the taxi from far away, I held my tears and said to her, "Take care of yourself, take good care of yourself."

She didn't talk, just nodded lightly, and then opened up her misshaped umbrella and stepped out on the street. Out in the rain, we became two single life forms, one red, one black, so far away from each other. I opened the door for her and she got in, then I close the door that would separate me from her forever. I stood by the car, staring in the dark window, at the first love in my life, also the last one, walking out of my life. The car started, driving into the street. Finally I couldn't hold my sorrow and the twist in my heart any longer, waving my arms rapidly chasing after the taxi, because I knew, this would be the last time I see her. I wanted to tell her I still love her, I wanted to tell her to stay, I wanted to tell her so much, but the taxi had already turned in the corner. Warm tears kept falling down my face, blended with the cold rain drops. I was cold, not because of the rain. I was cold inside.

She left, and I didn't get anymore of her phone calls even until today. I know she didn't see my tears, because they were washed away by the rain. I left without regrets. But I'm not Chris, I'm that girl Susan, using my memory, and his diary I found after one year since he left, writing down these last words.

adapted from http://recom.org/modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic&t=2632

The Most Beautiful Heart...

One day a young man was standing in the middle
of the town proclaiming that he had the most
beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large
crowd gathered and they all admired his heart
for it was perfect.
There was not a mark or a flaw in it.
Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most
beautiful heart they had ever seen.
The young man was very proud and boasted
more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of
the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not
nearly as beautiful as mine."

The crowd and the young man looked at the
old man's heart. It was beating strongly,
but full of scars, it had places where pieces
had been removed and other pieces put in, but
they didn't fit quite right and there were
several jagged edges. In fact, in some places
there were deep gouges where whole pieces
were missing.

The people stared -- how can he say his heart
is more beautiful, they thought?
The young man looked at the old man's heart
and saw its state and laughed.

"You must be joking," he said.
"Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect
and yours is a mess of scars and tears."

"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect
looking but I would never trade with you.
You see, every scar represents a person to
whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece
of my heart and give it to them, and often
they give me a piece of their heart which fits
into the empty place in my heart, but because
the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges,
which I cherish, because they remind me of the
love we shared. "Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart
away, and the other person hasn't returned
a piece of his heart to me. These are the
empty gouges -- giving love is taking a chance.

Although these gouges are painful, they stay open,
reminding me of the love I have for these people too,
and I hope someday they may return and fill the
space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"

The young man stood silently with tears running
down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man,
reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart,
and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old
man with trembling hands

The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart
and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and
placed it in the wound in the young man's heart.
It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect
anymore but more beautiful than ever,
since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.
They embraced and walked away side by side.


~ The End~

adapted from http://www.indianchild.com/most_beautiful_heart.htm

Shay

What would you do? You make the choice! Don't look for a punch line; There isn't one! Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?" The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child." Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, “Do you think they'll let me play?” Shay’s father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!"

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"

Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home! Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.

That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.

Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

copied this off chang yang's blog... hehe... thanks for sharing this wonderful story... ;)

Gratitude

My Brother....





I cried for my brother 6 times......

I was born in a secluded village of a mountain. Days by days my parents plowed the yellow dry soil with their backs facing the sky.

I have a younger brother, 3 years younger than me. Once, to buy a handkerchief which all girls around me seemed to have, I stole 50 cents from my father's drawer. Father known about it right away.

He made my younger brother and me kneeled against the wall, with a bamboo stick in his hand.
"Who stole the money?" he asked.

I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Father didn't hear any of us admit, so he said, "Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!"

He lifted up the bamboo stick.

Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father's hand and said," Dad, I was the one who did it!"

The long stick smacked on my brother's back repeatedly.

Father was so angry that he kept on whipped my brother until he lost his breath.

After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, "You have learnt to steal from your own house now, what other embarrassing things you will do in the future?? You should be beaten to death! You shameless thief!"

That night, mother and I hugged my brother. His body full of injuries, but he didn't shed a single tear.

In the middle of the night, all of sudden I cried out loudly.

My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and said, " Sis, now don't cry anymore. Everything has happened."

I still hate myself for didn't have enough courage to admit what I had done.

Years gone by, but the incident still looked like it just happened yesterday.

I will never forget my brother's expression when he protected me.

That year, my brother was 8 years old; I was 11 years old.

When my brother was in his last year of his lower secondary school, he was accepted in an upper secondary school in the central. At the same time, I was accepted into a province's university.

That night, father squatted in the yard, smoking, packet by packet.

I could hear him said, "Both our children have good results? very good results?"

Mother wiped off her tears and sighed," What is the use? How can we possibly finance both of them?"

At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front of father and said,"Dad, I don't want to continue my study anymore, I have read enough books."

Father swung his hand and slapped brother on his face.

"Why do you have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will sen! d you two to school until you both finish your study!"

And then, he started to knock on every house in the village to borrow money. I stuck out my hand as soft as I can to my brother's swollen face, and said, "A boy has to continue his study; If not, he will not be able to leave this depths of poverty."

Me, on the other hand, had decided not to further my study to university.

Who knows on the next day, before dawn, my brother left the house with a few pieces of worn-out clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to the side of my bed and left a note on my pillow; "Sis, get into an university is not easy. I will go find a job and send money to you."

I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried until I lost my voice.

That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years old. With the money father borrowed from the whole village, and money my brother earned from carrying cement on his back at construction site,finally, I managed to get to the third year of my study in the university.

One day, I was studying in my room, when my roommate came in and told me,"There's a villager wait for you outside!"

Why is there a villager looking for me? I walked out, and saw my brother from afar, His whole body is dirty, covered by dust, cement and sands.

I asked him, "Why don't you tell my roommate that you are my brother?"

He replied with a smile," Look at my appearance. What will they think if they know that I am your brother?,Don't they laugh at you?"

I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept away dusts from my brother's body. And said with a lump in my throat, " I don't care of what people say! You are my brother no matter what your appearance is?"

From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He wore it on me, and said, "I saw all the girls in town are wearing it. So, I think you should also have one."

I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my brother into my arms and cried and cried.

That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old.

The first time I brought my boyfriend home, the broken window had been repaired.And it looked so clean inside the house.

After, my boyfriend went home, I danced like a small girl in front of my mother, "Mom, you don't have to spend so many time cleaning the house!"

But she said with a smile," It was your brother who went home early to clean the house. Didn't you see the wound on his hand? He was injured while replacing the window." I went into my brother's small bedroom.

Looking at his thin face, I felt like there are hundreds of needle pricked in my heart.

I put some ointment on his wound and bandaged it, "Does it hurt? " I asked him.

"No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when I was working in the construction site, stones falling on my feet all the time. Even that could not stop me from working and?"

In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I turned my back on him and tears rolling down my face.

That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years old.

After I got married, I lived in the city. Lots of time my husband invited my parents to come and live with us, but they didn't want.

They said, once they left the village,they didn't know what to do.

My brother also didn't agree, he said, "Sis, you just taking care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of mom and dad here."

My husband became the director of his factory. We wanted my brother to get the job as the manager in the department of maintenance. But my brother rejected the offer. He insisted on starting to work as a reparation worker.

One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder repairing a cable, when he got electrocuted, and was sent to the hospital.

My husband and I visited him. Looked at the white gypsum on his leg, I grumbled,"Why did you reject to be a manager? Manager will not do something dangerous like this. Look at you now, such a serious injury. Why you didn't want to listen to us?"

With a serious expression on his face, he defended on his decision, "Think of brother-in-law?he just became the director, and I almost uneducated. If I became the manager, what kind of rumors will fly around?"

My husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I said, "But you lack in education also because of me!" "Why talking about the past?" My brother held my hand.

That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years old. My brother was 30years old when he married a farmer girl from the village.

In his wedding reception, the master of ceremonies asked him, "Who is the one you respect and love the most?"
Without thinking, he answered," My sister." He continued by telling a story I could not even remember.

"When I was in primary school, the school was in different village.

Everyday, my sister and I walked for 2 hours to go school and go home.

One day, I lost one of my pair of gloves. My sister gave me one of hers.
She only wore one glove and walked for so far. When we got home, her hand was so trembled because of the weather that was so cold that she could not even hold her chopsticks. From that day on, I swore that as long as I live, I would take care of my sister and be good to her."

Applause filled up the room. All guests turned their attentions to me.

Words were so hard to come out from my mouth, "In my whole life, the one I would like to thank the most is my brother," And in this happy occasion,in front of the crowd, tears rolling down my face again.

Love and care for the one you love every single days of your life. You may think what you did is just a small deed, but to that someone, it may mean a lot.

thanks to iQing for providing this touching story to me...