Lessons Learned From Merlin

 



Written December 23, 2003

For the last hour, I've been scuffling about my kitchen in my oversized UGG slippers (it's not a hazard as long as I don't try the stairs), whipping up a sugar cookie recipe that requires a full pound of Crisco, and wondering how in the world I'm going to write this year's Christmas novella.

For those of you who've been the recipient of said novella for the last - uh - 18 years or so, I'm well aware that last year's Armitage family Christmas letter was conspicuously missing. I just can't possibly let you down again, heaven forbid, but HOW do I explain this year's proceedings?

I'm going to start with an event that occurred today. It's not meant to be morbid and it IS directly connected to one of the more memorable events of my year, so kindly bear with me.

Today, Merlin came home to me by way of a UPS truck. If you haven't heard already, my beloved, forever shedding Great Pyrenees partner in crime these last 11 years passed on to another form of life on December 8th. He died because half of his heart had given out, proving my suspicions from his puppy-hood that he, like the Whoville Grinch, had a heart that was simply several sizes too big.

After I kissed his nose for the last time, I arranged to have his ashes delivered to me, which was supposed to take a day or two at most. Instead, they called me yesterday (14 days later) to tell me they'd accidentally tried to deliver him to another family and that he was still on the UPS truck, on his way to me this time. Today, true to form, a sweating UPS truck driver sprinted to my door with Merlin solidly lodged under his arm.

As I carried Merlin (in his new state) upstairs, I couldn't help but chuckle. Nothing in the entire world caused greater gnashing-of-teeth for Merlin than the UPS truck and its attached men in brown. It was the only single thing that taunted him into trampling down fences and sprinting for blocks down rush-hour traffic streets. and here's how he ended up, lodged in the bowels of the evil incarnate monster itself (AND during the holiday season to boot) in herkyjerky, stop-and-go fashion for two full weeks.

That, my friend, is Karma. Take it from Merlin: If you're chasing after anything in life with some level of misdirected anger, that very thing will likely get the better of you in the end.

That being said, I'll give Merlin credit for helping me maintain misdirected anger over the last 11 years - even this last year. Merlin was a high-spirited, conniving creature who liked to skitter around on his tippy-toes and create instant wainscoting in every home by sliding drooly, dirty tennis balls along the wall. But he'd also follow me from room to room when he knew I was upset until I'd finally flump down and throw my arms around him. He loved me unconditionally with great warmth and a giving soul that knew no other way to be. And that was a lesson I did, indeed, learn from Merlin.

This last year didn't start well. As the New Year began, I found myself struggling with a business I didn't really like, and paying rent I didn't really want to pay anymore. So, 'round about March, Merlin and I had a talk and decided to stop with the misdirected anger and start creating a better story.

And so we did. As I say in all the stuff I write, "If you don't like the situation you're in, recognize you created it and fix it." It was time to take my own medicine. Mer and I drove all around the town of Laguna in my little convertible until we found our new home. With the move made in March to a lovely place just a block from the beach, I then tackled the not liking-my-business issue with grim determination. Fact is, if you're not doing what you love to do every day, you're cheating yourself. I knew there were too many good and exciting people out there to work with and as I focused on THIS fact, those very people started coming in the door.

It wasn't until July that I got up the nerve to e-mail the one person I wanted to work with most - my most favorite past client. This client and I have tried and failed at working together twice before, and hitting that initial "SEND" button this time around wasn't easy. Ten minutes later, however, we were on our way to working together again and now we're back on track and working quite harmoniously. I delight in what I do every day for this man's company. It's not easy and it's got its tenuous, warbly-chin, pounding headache moments. But, I delight in it. Pure and simple as that. It's supposed to be that simple, I believe.

On a connected note - I've also "happened" upon a couple solid web programming teams, both of which are quite capable of handling all my client urgencies. What I find most amazing about these web teams is that I was very solidly prepared to NOT like working with them after all the experiences I'd had through the years with not-so-great programming teams. But, again, it's all about focusing on what I want to expand, not on what I don't want to expand. Fortunately, somewhere along the way, I also realized that chasing programmers down rush-hour streets while barking my fool head off was only going to succeed in getting ME killed - yet another lesson I learned from Merlin, who always and eventually gave up the chase with a shrug.

On the opposite end of the work spectrum, I somehow ended up in an outrigger canoe club on the wild ocean this summer. How a landlocked Denver girl ever found her way to jumping in and out of a Hawaiian-style 6-man canoe is something I still can't quite fathom myself, much less explain to anyone else. My friend, Deb, a fellow spin-class victim, made me promise to try it and, after my first grudging day, I was hooked. Line and sinker, I might add.

What I thought would be something kind of friendly and social and interactive. like a bowling league on Monday nights. turned out to be a highly competitive 7-month season that entailed a minimum of 15-hours of weekly practice and full days of racing just about every weekend. I was the "stroker" - the Seat #1 gal - for my novice team and we happily and surprisingly won more than we lost. In August, we were imported into the "big girls' boats" - the gals who'd been paddling for years. In our last race of the season, we paddled 31 miles to Catalina Island in about 4 hours.

Aside from this odd sport opening up a host of uncommon injuries and new battle scars, the sport also opened up a whole new community of fun, athletic people to me - people from all walks of life who never would have crossed my path otherwise. This, coupled with my ever-lasting and loving friends in Denver and around the continent, my burgeoning group of wonderful friends from spin class, and my growing community of buddies and neighbors in this small town of Laguna Beach has made for a most enjoyable and busy year. I can't say I remember enjoying myself so much - ever.

So, here I sit on Christmas Eve's Eve with Merlin perched on my lap. (This must be nirvana for Merlin - he is, at last, a lap dog.) And his lessons are here in my head:

. If you chase after something in anger, it will find a way to bite you back.

. Be sure to follow your closest friends from room to room when you know they're upset.

. Give generously of your warmth and soul. You've got more where that came from.

. Be the first to press the "SEND" button when you haven't talked to someone in a while.

. If you're trying to chase something off because it seems like a threat to you, it might be better to stop, shrug and give it up.

. Delight in your days. It's supposed to be that simple.

. And lastly, never lose sight of your family and friends. They're the home you want to return to, even if the only way to get there is by UPS truck.

Diane Armitage

Diane Armitage - www.Armitageinc.com - is a renowned marketing writer, Internet strategist and fixer of lame web sites. When she's not coming to clients' web site rescue, she can be found writing mounds of copy for her popular blog, www.LagunaBeachBest.comand traveling/writing for entities and causes around the world. Contact her at Diane@Armitageinc.com

Catching Fish In A Jar




When I was between eleven and twelve years old I decided one bright sunny day that it would be fun to go fishing. I didn't have any fishing gear and I had never done much fishing other than to play on the stream banks while my father fished. I also didn't want to "hurt" the fish I just wanted to catch them and then let them go.

I looked around the house for what I could use and I found a washed out old mayonnaise jar. You know the old style jars with the big open "mouth". I walked to a nearby pond and put the jar down in the soft dust-like mud of the water's edge with the open "mouth" of the jar facing toward the center. I then stirred the waters a little and made them cloudy so that the fish would have trouble seeing me. Then I waited hovering over the jar. Gradually, cautiously a small fish would swim up to the clear jar to investigate the disturbance and when it swam into the jar I dropped my hand into the water and over the jar mouth. I caught a fish, then another.

I just let them all go and returned my jar to the cupboard. Then I decided to use wire "box trap" to go fishing and rigged a string to the door. This way I could drop the trap in the water and not have to "hover over" it like I did with the jar. I sat very relaxed on the bank of the pond and sure enough I caught a fair sized bluegill. I took it home in a water filled plastic waste basket to show my dad and afterward returned it to the pond.

When I told people about how I had caught the fish they just paused and laughed nervously. You see unlike these people, I didn't know that you couldn't catch fish in a jar. If I would have asked them they would have scoffed and said, "You can't catch fish in a jar or a box trap!" No one in my life had ever dreamed of telling me that so my belief system did not contain these words or the impact that they would have had on my "day of fishing". Only a free minded kid could come up with an idea of using a jar or a box trap to catch fish! No one had told me that this was impossible so I just used what I was familiar with and what I had available and I succeeded.

Maybe today finds you facing a situation that seems impossible. You have a desire but no visible way of bringing it into being. You may need to find that "kid" inside you who thinks "outside the box" and the normal ways of achieving things and let him or her catch that fish in a jar! See your situation from a different angle. Start looking at the resources that you already have and the things that you are already familiar with. A fresh perspective and a childlike sense of wonder may surprise you and there's no telling what you will come up with!

Jami Sell

Catching Fish In A Jar is an excerpt from author Jami Sell's book Thought And Belief: How To Unlock Your Potential And Fulfill Your Destiny! © 2010 All Rights Reserved. It is available at amazon.com, the Book Depository, and in fine bookstores.

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Making The Best Of Every Situation

It was spring of 1998, and life was good. My husband, Cam, and I were expecting our second child in early June. Our Daughter, Jesse, had just turned three. We owned a lovely little house just outside Vancouver, Canada, and short of the white picket fence, everything was perfect.

On May 29, 1998, the rug was pulled out from underneath us, and a hurricane of devastation followed. My placenta detached and I needed an emergency c-section. Our son Avery was born, but he was blue. A team of doctors from Vancouver Children's hospital were called, and before I know it Avery was whisked way to Vancouver. I didn't even get a chance to hold him. Cam was able to be with Avery, but I had just had surgery and the doctors wouldn't allow a transfer until the following day. 

I remembered thinking, how could this be happening? Having a baby is supposed to be one of the happiest times of our lives. How will I survive? I soon learned that as long as Avery had the fight and determination to live, I had to be there for him.

Short of a miracle five months later, after four heart surgeries, renal failure, Code Blue's, and the sudden death of my beloved father, we were able to take Avery home. It was the best day of my life.

Now I had a promise to fulfil; I had promised God that if I got to bring my little baby home at the end of this tragedy, I will forever be the most grateful mom in the world. Spending five months in the hospital, we saw a lot of parents leave without their baby. I didn't even care what kind of shape he was in, I just wanted us to be home as a family.
Fourteen years later and I have kept my promise. Oh sure I have bad days, but not many, and never for long. It was a bit of a struggle when Jesse was diagnosed with autism, but it was just another hurdle we had to jump. Fortunately with much diligence and therapy, Jesse is a happy, beautiful seventeen-year-old.

Both Jesse and Avery are happy, healthy and amazing people. At the end of the day what more can a parent ask. It is all I need to fill my soul with gratitude.

People are constantly astonished that I am always so upbeat and happy, considering all our family has been through. This I why I knew I had to write a book. I needed to share with others how life can be wonderful, even if it's not what we thought it would or should have been.

Sometimes life deals some devastating blows out of our control. Although we may not have a choice with the cards we are dealt at times, we always have a choice with how we play them.

Kim Gemmell

Kim Gemmell is an author and inspirational speaker who recently wrote her nonfiction memoir telling her inspirational story; BRAVERY, Our Journey of Faith, Hope & Love. Currently BRAVERY is available on most online bookstores, and also can be purchased through Kim's website: www.braverybook.com

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Speaking from the heart

I suspect this was well-rehearsed and yet seemed so natural, so conversational.

Do you want to speak to inspire?

We could all do well to learn from this man and the presentation -

repetition,

a mantra,

storytelling skills,

timing,

structure ...

Three sons – three boxes – a story about values




"I hope your box is empty!"

It was on the sixteenth day of the 12th month celebrating his 75th birthday when he decided it was time.

Having been happily married, raising three boys, and continuing with great success, the family business handed down from generations before him, this now frail man had to make a decision.

His health had not been good over the past few years and the stress of keeping the business on course was beginning to wear on him.

The challenge was in deciding which one of his sons would take his place.

Each boy had the experience. Each one was capable of helping it grow in the future.

But each had different personal values.

As they gathered together to celebrate Father's birthday, he quietly pulled them aside from the rest of the family to announce his retirement.

"Father, I can't imagine a day without you as the head of the business," one said.

"We are sure to falter without you, but you deserve some rest," another said.

"You are this company," the last chimed in.

Then there was an uneasy silence. Surely the question playing on their minds was "who would take his place?"

The old man turned and walked toward the corner of the room where there were three boxes.

"Come, each of you take one of these boxes. They are of equal size. By the first day of the new year when we return here to celebrate, I want each of you to bring your box filled
with what you believe to be the most valuable assets of this business. Based on your choices, I will decide who will take over as the chairman," father said.

There was much grumbling, confusion and discussion as father left the room.

During the next 15 days the families and employees could sense a strong competitive spirit between the boys. One carried the box nearly everywhere he went. Another ran from department to department asking for records and inventories. The third simply
left the box at his desk.

It was January 1st and the family had once again gathered to celebrate. 

Right after dinner father called the boys aside.

"Well, it is time. Please share with me what you have placed in your box," father said.

The first son, eager to outdo the others, jumped to his feet and began sharing.

From the box he pulled the business ledger, saying "This father, is the true measure of our success. There is no greater representation than the bottom line."
"Simple and direct," father said.

Pointing to the second son, he asked for him to share.

"Where is your box?" father asked.
"It is outside on the back of truck. The box you gave me was much too small. I have ten of our employees out there ready to bring in each of the items I have gathered."

Father walked to the window and from that distance could see his son had gathered many of his own personal possessions; a boat hitched to the back, collections of rare art, antiques and what appeared to be two uniformed guards standing next to a large box.
"What is in the box?" fathered asked.
"My wife's jewels," the son replied. "Shall I order them to bring them in?"
"No! I have seen enough," father said.

With a deep sigh and tone of sadness, he said to the last son, "What valuables do you have to share?"

The son rose to his feet and handed his father the box.
The old man looked inside and with great shock and surprise looked up at his son.
"It's empty!" father said. "Are you telling me that you have found nothing of value in the family business?"
"To the contrary," he said. "What I found most valuable I could not place in a box, on the back of a thousand trucks, or scribbled on the bottom line of a ledger."

Father's face lit up as he returned to his chair.

"How does one measure the value of commitment, quality, honesty, and trustworthiness?

 What size box would hold the loyalty of our employees and customers? 

Would the charities we supported through the years fit into the largest trucks in our fleet? 

How big of an auditorium would I need to gather the families of our coworkers who have benefited from our generous pay and health plan? 

Where would I place the local companies we have committed to deal with so that the community we live in stays strong?

Finally, father, the most valuable possessions I personally hold are the love of you and mother, family values, your wisdom, compassion and love of God. Look again inside that box. They are not there. The result of all of that is here standing before you."

It was clear what decision was made that day.

There will come a time when each of us will be asked by our Father to share what we value most.

I hope your box is empty.

Bob Perks

Bob Perks is an inspirational author and speaker. Bob's new book I Wish You Enough has been published by Thomas Nelson Publishers. A collection of stories based on his Eight Wishesexpressed below. Available through your favorite bookstore or online. Visit www.BobPerks.com

The Art of Intuitive Action



About 10 years ago my daughter was about 2500 kilometers from Newcastle, and rang me one day sobbing because of an emotional trauma she was facing. She was about 20, and in a town known as Ayrlie Beach in Northern Queensland. I asked her what it was that she needed most in that moment, and she replied that she needed support, and my arms around her would be the best thing that she could hope for! Because I couldn't do that in that exact moment, I asked her to describe her surroundings to me (I have absolutely no idea 'why', at the time), and said that if she hadn't heard from me in about 30 minutes to ring me back. I asked her to stay exactly where she was. I had no idea how I was going to ring her back, by the way, as she was calling from a public phone booth (one of three), near a little park, surrounded by a few shops in the main street of Ayrlie Beach.

OK then, after hanging up the phone, I just sat for a few seconds. After only a very short time a phone number 'jumped into my head', and even though I recognized it, it wasn't a commonly used number of mine. I rang the number and it was a woman who had bought a house from me about 18 months previously, when I was working in Real Estate. My exact words to her were these, "Oh, it's you Liz, I have no idea why I'm calling you in particular, but my daughter is stranded in Ayrlie Beach, and I just got the thought to ring you and tell you that. Have you any idea why?"





"It could be because my Son lives there," says Liz.

"Oh really, that's got to be it," I said. "Do you mind giving me his phone number Liz?"

"Of course not, and I can only hope that he can be of some help!"

Liz gave me his mobile number and I rang straight away (only about 5 minutes have passed since telling my daughter that somehow I'd get her help). Fortunately, he answered immediately, and I told him the story of who I was, and why I'd rung.

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I gave him the description of my daughter; where she was standing; and that she needed emotional support if he could find it in his heart to help out so unexpectedly like this. "Oh yes, I can see her," he said..."she's right across the street from where I'm standing!" He walked across the street and told my daughter that her Dad had sent him!

Imagine that...she almost fainted: only about 10 minutes had passed since she had rung me! I believe that she said something like this, "Wow, Dad's getting pretty good at this stuff!" She was taken to a safe house; nurtured and supported; given food and a bed for a couple nights; and also given money to get herself to where she needed to be.

That's intuition at it's best!

It may save a life or two if people can embrace the use of intuition, and learn to trust in it.
Remember: "What others do or say is their stuff; how we react, or not, is our stuff!"

Phil Evans is a Motivator, Business Coach, Life Coach and Inspirational Writer based in Australia. You can visit his website at: www.peoplestuff.com.auand join his newsletter or feel free to email Phil with your comments on his story at: phil@peoplestuff.com.au

A Simple Hug – true story

A simple hug - true story

She was eighty years young and still very active. In this small town in southwest Virginia, not much happened. It was just another empty day for a senior citizen who lived by herself. Although she has four children, five grandchildren and several great grandchildren, she was often alone.

In need of a few small things at the grocery and a desire to just get out of the house and be among people, she took a trip to the local Kroger's. Since there were only her own needs to satisfy, she walked up and down the aisles with a small cart. With just six items, she headed to the checkout.

He wandered the store. He'd come for a cup of hot soup and perhaps someone to talk to. The soup was good, it always was, but no one wanted to talk to an old man. Disappointed, he was about to leave when he saw her. She headed to the checkout with only a few items.

"Good morning, Ma'am." He smiled, "You can't leave yet?"

She turned toward the voice. A well dressed man smiled at her. "Excuse me?" she asked.

He pointed to the six items she'd selected. "Your basket is not full."

"There's no need to buy a lot." she replied. "There's no one to eat it."

He stared at her for a moment and said, "I'm so lonely!"

"I know what that's like."




In the middle of an aisle, in a large grocery store, at 11:30 AM, they stood and talked. "My wife and daughter died." he said. "They died too young." His eyes softened as he spoke briefly of them and then added, "and just recently, I lost my little Pomeranian. She was all I had left. Now I'm alone."

"I'm so sorry." She felt her own eyes moisten. He was as alone as she was.

"It's OK." he said bravely. "I hope I can find another dog like her. She was such a joy. At least someone needed me. She gave me purpose. Now I have none. Perhaps I'll get another, but at my age, I don't want to leave her alone when my time comes. Then again, I have this big house. A dog would be happy there. I've lived in it for fifty years. It has big rooms."

"Oh, the homes were built big back then. It was a time when people had large families." She smiled and wondered where the conversation was going.

"They sure did. This old place has four bedrooms. Three of them are empty. It's just me now." He sighed. "There's not much to do. My days are empty. I do get out as often as I can. In fact, every morning I go to McDonalds for breakfast."

"Good for you!" she said. "I try to get out as much as I can myself."

"Those kids at McDonalds are very nice to me. They always greet me with a smile and make such a fuss over me. They're almost like having grandkids. And you know what?"

"What?"

He leaned close and whispered. "They let me have my coffee for free. What do you think of that?"

"That's wonderful!" She knew the joy it must give him to feel welcomed.

They chatted for perhaps twenty minutes. "Well," she looked into his eyes, which now sparkled with pride over the family he had at McDonalds. "I must be getting home."

"I understand." The sparkle faded. "It was nice talking to you."

"It was nice talking to you too." She touched his hand. "I mean it."

He looked back at her and asked softly, "Can I give you a hug?"

A bit taken by his request, but fully understanding his need, she said, "Yes!"

There they stood, in a warm embrace, in the middle of a busy grocery, on a normal day, that was made special by a simple hug.

That evening, she reflected on her encounter with the man. She felt like he did, alone in the world. How many others her age felt the same loneliness? How many seniors just need a kind ear and perhaps a simple hug?

Michael T. Smith
This is a true story from one of Michael's readers. When she heard we were using the story she said, "Oh Mike! That is wonderful - not because it is our story but because the subject is being brought to the fore in such a manner!
Michael lives with his lovely wife, Ginny, in Caldwell, Idaho. He works as a project manager in Telecommunications and in his spare time writes inspiration stories. He has recently been published in two Chicken Soup for the Soul Books (All in the Family and Things I Learned from My Cat), in "Thin Threads - Life Changing Moments" and in Catholic Digest.
To read more of Michael's stories, go to: http://ourecho.com/biography-353-Michael-Timothy-Smith.shtml#stories

“We want Ike” – the Gift of Being included



Ike Ditzenberger had watched his big brothers play football. He grew up idolizing and imitating them. Ike wanted to play football too. And he even dared to talk about his dream of playing college football. Big deal, right? It just means that he is like thousands of other teenagers who dream of being an on-field hero.

As a matter of fact, Ike is quite different from your "average" teenage boy. The 17-year-old junior at Snohomish (Washington) High School has Down Syndrome. His 5-foot-6, 160-pound frame isn't that of an athlete, and he doesn't have the motor skills to compete in a game where he could get hurt very easily.

Ike is fortunate to have a supportive family. More than that, his classmates have given Ike the one gift that matters most to so many kids who have a handicap, look different, or stand out for the wrong reasons - the gift of inclusion. Still more specifically, Snohomish's football coach lets Ike come to practices and hang with the guys he admires. Coach Mark Perry has even created a play that ends every varsity practice. Called the Ike Special, the offense hands the ball to Ike. And he gets the thrill of running it toward a soft defensive line of his friends.

On Friday, Sept. 24, 2010, the traditionally competitive Snohomish was absorbing its fourth loss of the season. A 35-0 drubbing at the hands of undefeated Lake Stevens High was mercifully about to end. With 10 seconds left on the clock, Coach Perry heard the "We want Ike!" chant from the stands, put Ike Ditzenberger into the backfield, and called the Ike Special. Wearing No. 57, Ike took the ball and began to run left. Although he appears to have stepped out of bounds, officials let the play continue - as his teammates ran interference and Lake Stevens players made reluctant efforts to get to him.
By the time the clock had expired, Ike was in the end zone. He had run for 51 yards and scored Snohomish's only touchdown of the night. He got to dance in the end zone. The play that worked every time in practice had worked that night in a real game. And Ike got to head to the sidelines to rip off his helmet, pump it in the air, and - in his mom's words - "scream like a banshee."

Grownups in the stands were crying. Lake Stevens players had given up a shutout for something far more important. Snohomish coaches and players had taken the final step in making Ike "one of the guys" with the team.

With all the scandals in sports at all levels, it's nice to come across a story that affirms what games are supposed to teach - character, sportsmanship, team spirit, and self-confidence. Ike and his big brothers can talk football like never before for the rest of their lives now. The guys on the field that wonderful night can talk forever about the biggest play in their high school careers.


Rubel Shelly

Rubel Shelly is a Preacher and Professor of Religion and Philosophy located in Rochester Hills, Michigan. In addition to church and academic responsibilities, he has worked actively with such community projects as Habitat for Humanity, American Red Cross, From Nashville With Love, Metro (Nashville) Public Schools, Faith Family Medical Clinic, and Operation Andrew Ministries. To learn more about Rubel please go to: www.RubelShelly.com

Two Sets of Proud Parents


I received an e-mail with a story worth sharing. Only the names have been changed to preserve privacy.

Doug is the proud and loving father of Emma, a high school junior who takes a leadership class responsible for putting on dances and other student events. All student body officers must take the class, but a number of other kids like Emma who just like to participate are also enrolled. Well, Emma is a little different and she's becoming more aware of those differences. Recently, she began to tell her father through tears, "I don't like having Down's Syndrome."

Doug comforted and encouraged his daughter the best he could, but he admits he always wonders how her classmates really perceive her. Do they just tolerate or patronize her, or do they see the richness of her character and appreciate her sense of humor and the beauty of her heart?

These concerns came into play when he visited Emma at a school event where she was working at a table with the student body president, a handsome kid named Chris. Later, Emma announced that Chris had invited her to the homecoming dance. Doug was doubtful and afraid that she might be embarrassed or hurt if she misunderstood. So he checked with the leadership teacher, who discreetly confirmed it was true. This extraordinary young man asked Emma to accompany him to dinner and the dance.

Doug was moved to tears and confessed he was ashamed he doubted this could happen. 

He wrote of his joy seeing his daughter prepare for one of the greatest days in her life. And he marveled at the kindness and self-confidence of the young man who was able to see and care about the inner Emma.

Doug was rightfully proud of Emma, but how good would you feel to be Chris's parents?


Author: Michael Josephson
www.charactercounts.org

I love stories like this - real stories from real people - that inspire and remind us of our humanity.  And it's beautiful to be able to share them with you.

So I welcome stories from you too.  Do you have a story to share?

Please send me your story to share.  It's a simple matter of filling in a few boxes with your details and cutting and pasting your story into one of them.  Just go to this page and do it!... http://bit.ly/1xbNT41