1 Ryan 2009-12-04T14:12:05-07:00 1065 337 Listening is important to me because if you don’t listen you can’t become a successful leader. If someone is trying to tell you something important and you don’t listen then you won’t know what to do or how to help. Not listening can cause major problems. If a doctor doesn’t listen to his patient he is not going to know what to fix or how to contact with the patient. 2009-12-04T14:12:05-07:00 1 Femi-Ann akeemaynee@yahoo.com 2009-11-23T09:28:05-07:00 1049 323 Listening is a very important quality to have in life. It is the difference between hearing the car horn speeding toward you and being hospitalized because you weren't listening. Listening is comprehending sounds and information and using it. You should pay attention and listen to the things that surround you. The affects of listening could be beneficial to every aspect of your life, like in friendships, classrooms, or at home. 2009-11-23T09:28:05-07:00 1 Meredith futureheel32@gmail.com 2009-11-23T09:20:56-07:00 1045 321 It is important to listen because if you don't you will never know the outcome. Also if you want people to listen to you, the right thing is to listen to them. 2009-11-23T09:20:56-07:00 1 Jennifer T. jathieme@gmail.com 1 2009-08-31T21:56:57-06:00 980 295 Setting: My son Joel's bedroom. About 9:30 pm on a Wednesday night. I'm there to tuck him in. He's been in bed for at least 15 minutes before I get there. Joel: I can't stop thinking about the wolves. Mom: What wolves? Joel: The wolves in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I keep thinking about them chasing me and attacking me. Mom, pensively: Hmmmm. I'm wondering how to help him over this. I remember being that age, when things like this are very real. I spend several minutes thinking about it, to no avail. I decide to "go fishing," to ask him questions and see if his answers can help me help him. Mom: How do we make the wolves go away? What can we do? Joel: I don't know. I just want them to disappear. A swing and a miss. Spending more time thinking about it, an idea springs to mind: Mom: Is my love stronger than the wolves? This is an honest question: I do not know what is true for him. I want him to answer honestly. Joel: Yes. This is spoken without hesitation. Slightly puzzled, I proceed: Mom: Is Daddy's love stronger than the wolves? Joel: Yes. Again, spoken without hesitation. I need to know if this is his truth, or if he's just telling me what he thinks I want to hear. Mom: Are you sure? This time he looks puzzled. Joel: Yes. Inside, I hope he's told me the truth, because if he has, I've found the key. Mom, with determination: Ok, I want you to remember something: love is stronger than the wolves. Love always wins against hate, because love is stronger. It always wins. Always. Can you remember that? He nods his head and sets it on the pillow. I wait by his side, my hand on his arm. Without saying another word, he's asleep within five minutes, and stays in bed all night. Next morning... Mom: So, how did you sleep? Joel, smiling: Fine. Mom: What happened to the wolves? Joel, puzzled: What? Mom: The wolves. Remember, last night? Joel, still smiling: Oh yea! They went away. Mom: Wow! That's pretty cool, isn't it Joel? Joel nods his head, still smiling. I say a silent prayer of gratitude. The wolves have never returned. 2009-11-16T18:16:46-07:00 1 lahdidah@verizon.net 0 2009-01-13T05:40:00-07:00 765 236 I am 68 years old. I have COPD (emphysema) and have been on oxygen for about six years. I have gone about my regular activities�I belong to my local Woman's Club, a book club and two respiratory support groups.\r\n\r\nI am out and about, depending on the weather here in Southern California, two or three times a week. If I have no scheduled activity I will go browsing at a local specialty shop or antique store. Sometimes I use the scooters provided by the big box stores and ride around the store for an hour or more.\r\n\r\nImagine my surprise one day when, following one of my browsing expeditions, a woman came up to me as I was enjoying a cup of coffee from the vendor in front of the store. "Excuse me," she said. "I wanted to tell you how much I admire you. I watched you in the store and you were just a joy to see. My aunt is on oxygen and she will hardly even leave the house except for family gatherings. I wish we could get her to get out and be more active, like you are. I think she would feel so much better."\r\n\r\nI asked if the woman's aunt had been through pulmonary rehab. When she said no I recommended she talk to her aunt about it and about joining a support group. "Often a person feels alone and different and it helps to meet others with similar problems."\r\n\r\nThe woman said she wished her aunt could meet me and impulsively I suggested we get together for lunch. That proved to be the first of several visits and I am now pleased to tell you that the aunt has been through rehab (not as hard as she was afraid it would be) and has joined one of the support groups I belong to. She even went on field trips with our group. What a difference it has made in her outlook and in her overall health!\r\n\r\nShe calls me her role model. Thanks makes me smile for I consider myself unlikely material for a role model. But I told her, and tell anyone else: I did it�you can, too! 1 2009-09-12T00:00:16-06:00 1 gives@comcast.net 0 2008-09-19T10:23:41-06:00 598 190 When I was seventeen my grandfather had a stroke. My grandmother stayed by his side at the hospital after his stroke until he passed on. Having seen him in such a difficult condition for the two weeks prior to his death, my grandmother always said that she hoped that she wouldn't die of a stroke.\r\n\r\nShe lived another good 19 years beyond him, and outlived another husband to boot. She was "strong like an ox," just like her own mother who lived to be 90. Referring to herself, she'd say, "As long as Mable's able." That pretty much summed up her philosophy on life.\r\n\r\nBut as fate would have it, what dis-abled Mable was indeed a stroke.\r\n\r\nBut it was also A Stroke of Fate.\r\n\r\nWe all thought it was ironic at first, or perhaps a cruel joke. But what we realized, during her last two weeks, was that, as my brother Paul so aptly said in her Eulogy, "When God gave grandma a stroke, He gave us all a gift."\r\n\r\nA gift?\r\n\r\nIt was the very thing she had hoped would not be her fate! She was a woman of dignity, and to be left in a state where she was unable to care for even her own personal needs, must have been a blow.\r\n\r\nBut, as is very often the case, what is truly best for us is not always what WE think is best for us. What we all learned�all 14 grandchildren and 30 great grandchildren�was that the two weeks we did get to spend with Grandma after her stroke were precious. Not just because they were the last weeks and we were savoring them as such, but also because the time we each spent with her was a testament to the individual relationship we each shared with her.\r\n\r\nWhen I sat with her and held her hand she knew it was me because she could feel the bitten fingernails on my hands. It immediately brought me back to the times, both as a child and as an adult, when we'd sit together and she'd hold my hand. She'd run her thumb over my bitten thumb nail, and say, "That's ca-ca." In other words: Don't bite your nails.\r\n\r\nWhen my brother Mike held her hand, she felt the ring of my grandfather's that she'd given him. They shared at that moment, a connection, a memory of a special occasion, when she gave him something that my grandfather had worn and cherished.\r\n\r\nWhen my sister Debbie held her hand, she felt the ring she had bought my sister as a thank you for taking her on her errands. My grandmother never drove, and so had to depend on others throughout her life to take her on errands. She was grateful for this, and my sister was glad to be of service.\r\n\r\nEach one of us shared an almost magical experience of the unspoken with her during those two weeks. Grandma was unable to communicate with words but she got her point across with her touch in the most eloquent of ways. She was a woman of little formal education, but she educated us in those two weeks, in a more profound way than even the most educated of her grandchildren could have even attempted.\r\n\r\nWhen you'd ask my grandmother if she liked something or someone, she'd often respond, waving her hand back and forth in her Italian American Way, "Mezzo, Mezzo." I always understood it to mean "half and half."\r\n\r\nIndeed, Grandma's stroke of fate was "Mezzo, Mezzo.� It was in that moment that we were all given an opportunity to become Grandma's other half, holding her hand to communicate with her and interpret her needs, and with that union we became "Tutto," whole.\r\n 1 2009-09-12T00:00:16-06:00 1 stephangel923861@gmail.com 0 2008-07-31T19:40:42-06:00 552 171 It was a fairly chilly Wednesday night, and for some reason, I had decided to go to Pioneer Girls (kind of like girl scouts). I figured maybe someone I know might be there. We had talked a lot about friendship in class earlier that day, and it got me thinking. I walked into the familiar room, seeing familiar faces. I smiled and got to doing whatever they did. I had seen most of the girls there around church, and they were in my grade, but I had never really talked to them. \r\n\r\nThat night we were making denim purses, sewing them, and decorating them for a badge. The girls in Pioneer Girls always seemed like this tight circle didn't have room for anyone else. It got quiet as everyone became absorbed in their work. I tried not to think about the friendship thing, but nothing drove it out of my mind. I realized that I really didn't have any friends. Sure, I had a bunch of people I hung out with, but no one I would truly call my friend. Before I knew it, a tear rolled down my cheek. I quickly brushed it away, glancing up to make sure no one had seen it. One girl did see it, Annah. She mouths the question "Are you okay?" I tried, but couldn't lie at that moment, so I shook my head no. She nodded, and got back to work, not really seeming to care anymore.\r\n\r\nI got up when I heard the whistle for gym, glad that my eyes had dried any unwanted tears. I headed towards the door, but Annah stopped me. "Can we go to the big room? I don't really feel like playing," Annah asked the leader. "Sure, just remember to lock the door when you leave," was the answer. She motioned for me to follow. I did, and was glad for the excuse to get out of gym. \r\n\r\nWe sat down and she asked me what was wrong. I told her, and she listened patiently while I told her everything that was bothering me at the time. "Wanna be best friends?" Annah asked me when I finished. I was a bit surprised to hear the question, as I thought it was a little childish. But I could tell she meant it. I nodded, and we traded info. That night I made my first real friend, who later helped me make others. Annah will always be my best friend. She helped me so much, just by being herself. To this day, she still helps me with things.\r\n 1 2009-09-12T00:00:16-06:00 1 ejbarnes@uncg.edu 0 2008-07-12T15:53:01-06:00 534 162 So working at camp has taught me so many, many things—especially working at a camp for kids coming from low-income families and neighborhoods. One thing it has taught me is that these kids are not short of kindness and happiness, they just show it differently. \r\n\r\nAlong with other counselors, I was setting up lunch, making sure that all of the kids had everything they needed before I sat down to eat. Well I had sat my things down with a group of kids (counselors must eat with the kids). After getting the milks and juices and silverware for the kids and myself, I sat down at what I thought was going to be a table full of campers. But to my surprise all of the kids that were at the table where my stuff was sitting had decided to go sit with other counselors. It had really hurt my feelings since I was a first year counselor and really trying to make an impact. Well, one of the other counselors was about to sit with me when some of the girl campers at the next table over had saw me sitting all alone, and I guess I looked like I was about to cry, because every single female camper from that table decided to come sit with me. They actually told the counselor that had started heading my way to sit with me that he needed to find somewhere else to sit because they were sitting with me. \r\n\r\nAfter handing them one of my cookies, with the saying, "Sharing is Caring," they soon began telling me about their fears of middle school and what they like to do. I was quickly laughing away all of the stress I had, and the sadness I had of eating alone. I thank those girls, simply because they made me feel like I was doing something right at my new place of work.\r\n 1 2009-09-12T00:00:16-06:00 1 mdk3303@yahoo.com 0 2008-03-04T18:47:45-07:00 447 141 The past year has been what I can only describe as horrible. I was the victim of a crime and so many emotions erupted inside me I didn’t know who I was any more. To make matters worse it had happened on Valentines Day. I can remember thinking to myself, “the one day of the year where people go out of their way to share their love towards one another and look what happened to me.” \r\n\r\nAfterwards I was adamant about hiding it from my friends and family. I told myself it was my burden to bear. I knew it would break my parent’s hearts if they knew and my friends would freak out. So I put on a smile and tried so hard to act okay.\r\n\r\nThere was one person though, who just wouldn’t believe my lies and who saw the fear beneath my girly masquerade. He was my teacher and I honestly don’t know where I would be right now if it wasn’t for him. After multiple attempts from him to get me to open up, one day I finally couldn’t handle the pain anymore. I knew there was no way I could live my life like this and I had to do something about it. \r\n\r\nAfter class I tried to tell him but instead I couldn’t find any words and just started sobbing. He held me and for the first time since my experience I actually felt safe. He immediately contacted my counselor and our schools community resources officer and let me know that there were people out there to help me. I sat in my counselor’s office for hours that day, and although I wasn’t better by any means I felt this immense weight lifted off my shoulders. From there I told my family and we have been working so hard to get through this together.\r\n\r\nIts' been a little over a year now and I have been through a lot. And there have been days where life just didn’t seem worth it. But flickers of hope from people like my teacher have kept me going. I would never wish this upon anyone but looking back I can find the positive, like how much closer my family is now, and how much perspective I have gained. \r\n\r\nI know my purpose now, and that is to help. To help anyone I can because I know what it feels like when you need it and the way your heart feels when receive it. \r\n\r\nI am forever grateful to my teacher who was the first person there for me. I’m thankful for all the people I have met throughout this journey and who have been positive help towards me healing. And I am so appreciative of my family’s constant support, love and understanding. \r\n\r\nTHANK YOU.\r\n 1 2009-09-12T00:00:16-06:00 1 0 2007-08-08T09:14:18-06:00 294 107 My life had been going downhill since the beginning of high school. I hated school and I didn’t care about anything in my life. But something my brother had told me about my high school was sitting in the back of my mind through the beginning of the year. He told me, “If you ever needed someone to talk to, the counselors are there for you.” \r\n\r\nI had been secretly fighting my own battle, I had very low self-esteem, which made it harder to enjoy being on stage in my one love: acting. \r\n\r\nI had been unwilling to talk to my assigned counselor because it wasn’t the same one that my brother had, so I didn't think he would be as good. Finally, I convinced myself that I needed to see him because I needed help. Before I went to see him the first time, I wasn’t sure if I was going to truly be able tell him my problems. But something about just sitting in his office finally made me open up and I told him everything I’d been hiding inside myself. Something about him let me be comfortable to spill all my problems. \r\n\r\nHe listened and then we worked out a plan. I am sure that if it weren’t for him, I would still be so unhappy, struggling with low self-esteem. He showed me that no one is alone and that there is always someone there for us. He has been there for me to talk to ever sense our first meeting. Over the summer, he even emailed me to be sure I was doing all right. \r\n\r\n 1 2009-09-12T00:00:16-06:00 1 0 2006-08-22T07:43:40-06:00 34 20 My mother through her fine example instilled within me the desire to help others. She taught me to notice those who others ignore. She was compassionate.\r\n\r\nThe railroad tracks were within a mile of our house. "Beggers" and "Bums" (as they were known) frequently would knock on the doors in our neighborhood in the summer asking for food. They were often turned away or rebuked. Others simply ignored the knocks.\r\n\r\nMy mom always went to the door smiling. She would invite them to stay and have something to eat. She would have me open up the card table and carry a chair out onto the covered side porch. There was a nice view into the flower gardens, and it was cool even on the hottest days.\r\n\r\nShe would bring a red and white checkered tablecloth and set the table as carefully as she did for any company. She would pour their coffee and pile their plate with food and dessert. Usually she sent a packed lunch with them when they were ready to go too. Sometimes she would take the newspaper to those who asked about work.\r\n\r\nShe listened to those who wanted to talk. She never asked what led them to be in this predicament. It did not matter. She saw only the need. Some thought she should not extend this courtesy. She would say, "In the depression when my father was scouring around for ANY work to feed us, thoughtful people fed him. I am just repaying their kindness. I cannot offer them money, but I can see they do not leave hungry and discouraged."\r\n\r\nMy mom was quite a lady. 1 2009-09-12T00:00:15-06:00