The Praying Hands

Praying Hands

Author: Unknown

This inspirational story about Praying Hands, really touch my heart. I believe that there are many people out there who plays very important role for someone else's success. Some people they don't need any recognition nor than you for what they have done.

I share about this story as my appreciation for all the people behind the scene. Maybe no one know them, maybe the person they support did not even realize their important role for their success.

Here is the story....

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremburg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder’s children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremburg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your ream, and I will take care of you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, “No …no …no …no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother … for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed.

By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The Praying Hands.”

The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

God Bless Albert and Albrecht Durer.

Blessings on those who truly appreciate the sacrifices made by others on their behalf.

Blessings, too, on those who sacrifice so that another person can be succeed.

In this moment i would like to give Jesus, my God, the highest appreciation for His support in my entire life, I will not be the way i am without his support. Maybe not all people around me know this. My standing ovation for you God..

For My mother who shed tears for me in her prayer. For my beloved and supporting husband.

Life is full with disappointment

Life full with disappointment. Some people can’t get the job that they long for. A women broke up with her boyfriend who recently propose her. Another person lose their job. A lady who lose her baby. Many people face the disappointment. Life is full of disappointment but how we respond to disappointment can make all the difference.

Expect your disapointment as a part of life. Although we would like to avoid disappointment it is imposible. If you expect disappointment in your life you will not be surprise when it comes and you will be able to face it with the right attitude.

When was the last time you faced disappointment from a certain outcome that did not meet your expectations?

It could be any event in your life, from a big set-back to a small mishap. Perhaps your meeting at work did not go as well as you anticipated. Your new job was not what you expected. Maybe your salary never come and your boss so ignorant like nothing wrong is happening.

Maybe someone you like did not reciprocate your feelings. Maybe your relationship did not work out the way you hope it would.

How did it feel? Did you feel like a certain sense of numbness and void inside of you? Were you hopeless and miserable? Did it feel like it was the end of the world?

Disappointments are dissatisfactions that arise when your expectations are not met by outcomes. In short, you had an expectation but things did not unfold against the expectation.

Every day, people deal with disappointments. Depending on how big the disappointment is and how you choose to deal with it, the feeling of disappointment may dissipate after a short while or hang over your life for an extended period of time. If not handled properly, disappointments can lead to depression and eventually apathy.

Contrary to what people may think, disappointment are actually positive experience for our life.

If you don’t care about something, you wouldn’t be feeling disappointed, would you? The very presence of disappointment comes when something you care about so much does ot turn the way we expect it. The higher your disappointment, the stronger your passion for this is.

As Martin Luther King Jr puts it very adeptly, “There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love.” This deep love is what drives you towards your goals, dreams and desires. This deep love will be what fuels you in life, bringing you to places you have never been before. This deep love is what makes life worth living. Remember that disappointment is always a better emotional state than apathy or neutrality where the individual feels indifferent towards anything. I would much rather be feeling a negative emotion any day than feeling absolutely nothing. The ability to feel is what sets us apart from non-living beings. To feel nothing is to be a robot or a machine.

Disappointment also signals an opportunity for progress and growth. If you are disappointed in an outcome, it means there is actually a certain error in your framework of thought which need to be resolved.

Whenever you are disappointed, it means you have certain expectation about reality which you need to deal with. On the other side, if your perceptions of reality are always right, you will never feel disappointed at all. By correcting your expectation and getting a more accurate picture of the reality, you are equipped with more knowledge. This knowledge is a source of power; power for you to act towards your goals.

By using the knowledge from your previous experience, you can act more accurately towards your desires. The more you deal with disappointment and learn from it, the closer you will get towards your goals and dreams.

People deal with their disappointment in many ways. Some are negative and destructive ways and other people deal with a positive attitude. The way you react to disappointment can built you or can destruct you. What will be your choice?

1.No matter how careful or positive we are, we are bound to experience grief, suffering, pain, fear, and anxiety, for they are part of life, the price we pay for the privilege of sharing in the joys of life. Since you can count on suffering, make sure you can count on joy. Do this by planning family outings, get-togethers with friends, and time to enjoy your hobbies, nature, and the arts. By spending time for fun, with the people you care and care about you it will guarantee that any grief you experience will be interspersed with joy.

2. Don't be guilty of reverse vision. That is, don't look inward when you should be looking outward, and don't look outward when you should be looking inward. Here's what I mean. Are you disappointed in someone that don't live up to your expectations? If you are, you are guilty of reverse vision. You are looking outward (at your friends' conduct) when you should be looking inward (at your own conduct). How can you be disappointed by the failure of your friends or relatives to live up to your expectations when you yourself fail to live up to your own expectations? When you see your own weaknesses, you'll be able to accept the weaknesses of others. Are you sometimes devastated by misfortune and wonder how life can be so cruel? If so, you are guilty of reverse vision. You are looking inward when you should be looking outward. How can you beat your chest and cry out, "Woe is me," when so many people are suffering to a much greater degree? When you begin to cry out, ""Woe are them," you'll start to be thankful for your blessings.

3. When you learn to welcome challenges and love problem solving, disappointments will disappear. Enjoy the thrill of being a champion by relishing battles, whether you win or lose them. Whenever things go wrong, analyze the situation and see what you can learn and then move on. If you are constantly running into hurdles when pursuing a long-term goal, just remember there is no failure until you give up, so don't! Don't you love puzzles? Life is a maze (it is also amazing). Enjoy it! When you run into a dead end, just turn around and try again! Be an explorer, an adventurer. Take risks. Shoot for the stars! To do so is to experience an excitement that far exceeds the power of any disappointment that may come your way.

4. You will not enjoy or win at cards if all you do is complain about the hand you're dealt. Expect nothing more from life than what it offers and you will never be let down. Welcome the opportunities it provides by making the most of the cards you're dealt. Also, don't forget to feed your mind with positive thoughts by reading good books. Then make those thoughts your own by reflecting on them. When you understand them, you will fill your mind with light. Apply what you learn by practicing it.

5. If you experience a disappointment that you find difficult to overcome without help, talk to friends. That will help you realize that you're not alone and that others have overcome similar problems. And speaking of friends, don't disappoint them and chances are they'll never disappoint you, but if they do, forgive them, for how can someone hurt you if you forgive them? If you appeal to the best side of your friends, the chances are you won't be disappointed.

6. Abandon perfect expectations. Are you looking for the perfect mate? If you are, you're sure to be disappointed. For only God is perfect. We human being are imperfect. If you can accept that, you can eliminate much unnecessary misery from your life. The same is true for the perfect job, perfect child, or perfect life. It doesn't exist

7. Finally, cultivate patience, for as Joseph Addison (1672 ~ 1719) wrote, "Our real blessings often appear to us in the shape of pains, losses and disappointments; but let us have patience and we soon shall see them in their proper figures."

“ We rejoice in the hope of glory of God, not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance produces character, character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God has pour out his love in our hearts."

Jessie's Gloves

JESSIE'S GLOVES

By Rick Philips, Heart at Work

We are as a leader sometimes forget the importance of our employee. Everyday, we expect the people who with us to do the best in their work. A little attention can make a big different in people lives. I read the story below, it is a reminder for me.

I do a lot of management training each year for the Circle K Corporation, a national chain of convenience stores. Among the topics we address in our seminars is the retention of quality employees - a real challenge to managers when you consider the pay scale in the service industry. During these discussions, I ask the participants,

"What has caused you to stay long enough to become a manager?" Some time back a new manager took the question and slowly, with her voice almost breaking, said, "It was a $19 baseball glove."

Cynthia told the group that she originally took a Circle K clerk job as an interim position while she looked for something better. On her second or third day behind the counter, she received a phone call from her nine-year old son, Jessie. He needed a baseball glove for Little League. She explained that as a single mother, money was very tight, and her first check would have to go for paying bills. Perhaps she could buy his baseball glove with her second or third check.

When Cynthia arrived for work the next morning, Patricia, the store manager, asked her to come to the small room in back of the store that served as an office. Cynthia wondered if she had done something wrong or left some part of her job incomplete from the day before. She was concerned and confused.

Patricia handed her a box. "I overheard you talking to your son yesterday," she said, "and I know that it is hard to explain things to kids. This is a baseball glove for Jessie because he may not understand how important he is, even though you have to pay bills before you can buy gloves. You know we can't pay good people like you as much as we would like to; but we do care, and I want you to know you are important to us."

The thoughtfulness, empathy and love of this convenience store manager demonstrates vividly that people remember more how much an employer cares than how much the employer pays. An important lesson for the price of a Little League baseball glove.

Angel in real life

The author of the story below is unknown. But this story inspire me a lot. I believe in angel, I believe that God use people to be His Angel. I believe this story will enrich my heaven blog. It will remind me whenever I need a miracle in my life, that miracle could happen for everyone.

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.

Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave 15 dollars a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money - fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added another strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home. One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up. When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn't wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.)

It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car - or was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll. As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the fac es of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December.

And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

Parent's love

Here's a message that needs to be drilled into the hearts and minds of every mom and dad: You don't love your kids because of what they do, but because of who they are.

Simply rewarding children with affection because of their accomplishments is like a circus trainer giving a dog some food every time he jumps through a hoop. The dog isn't loved for himself, but for his actions.

Dr. Laura Schlessinger, has a new book for children titled, "Why Do You Love Me?" Part of the story includes a mother explaining to her son that it is not what he does that makes her love him -- she loves him because he is unique and because he is her son.

You don't show affection simply because a child is good at sport or science. Every mom, dad and grandparent needs to memorize the words of a long-time popular song: "I love you most of all because you're you."

I read a magazine while ago, about the football coach, He has his son on his team..He son is the star of his team. One day a reporter interviewed him and ask him, you must be proud of your son because he is a great player on your team. His answer make me swelled with tears he said " I proud of my son even he is not score any goal, because I proud of him just because the way he is not because his performance.

I took years for me to realize that my father proud of me the way I am. I was misunderstood for may years. I try to do the best things I could just to make him proud, yet I always feel that I haven't done anything good enough for him or for my mom.

Now I am a mom, I will learn to communicate it right with my son, that I love him and proud of him just the way he is, and not because of his performance, achievement.

The Right Moves

Right Moves, The

by: Tom Crabtree, Source Unknown

One day, many years ago, when I was working as a psychologist at a children's institution in England, an adolescent boy showed up in the waiting room. I went out there where he was walking up and down restlessly. I showed him into my office and pointed to the chair on the other side of my desk. It was in late autumn, and the lilac bush outside the window had shed all its leaves. "Please sit down," I said. David wore a black rain coat that was buttoned all the way up to his neck. His face was pale, and he stared at his feet while wringing his hands nervously. He had lost his father as an infant, and had lived together with his mother and grandfather since. But the year before David turned 13, his grandfather died and his mother was killed in a car accident. Now he was 14 and in family care. His head teacher had referred him to me. "This boy," he wrote, "is understandably very sad and depressed. He refuses to talk to others and I'm very worried about him. Can you help?" I looked at David. How could I help him? There are human tragedies psychology doesn't have the answer to, and which no words can describe. Sometimes the best thing one can do is to listen openly and sympathetically. The first two times we met, David didn't say a word. He sat hunched up in the chair and only looked up to look at the children's drawings on the wall behind me. As he was about to leave after the second visit, I put my hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrink back, but he didn't look at me either. "Come back next week, if you like," I said. I hesitated a bit. Then I said, "I know it hurts." He came, and I suggested we play a game of chess. He nodded. After that we played chess every Wednesday afternoon - in complete silence and without making any eye contact. It's not easy to cheat in chess, but I admit that I made sure David won once or twice. Usually, he arrived earlier than agreed, took the chessboard and pieces from the shelf and began setting them up before I even got a chance to sit down. It seemed as if he enjoyed my company. But why did he never look at me? "Perhaps he simply needs someone to share his pain with," I thought. "Perhaps he senses that I respect his suffering." One afternoon in late winter, David took off his rain coat and put it on the back of the chair. While he was setting up the chess pieces, his face seemed more alive and his motions more lively. Some months later, when the lilacs blossomed outside, I sat starring at David's head, while he was bent over the chessboard. I thought about how little we know about therapy - about the mysterious process associated with healing. Suddenly, he looked up at me. "It's your turn," he said. After that day, David started talking. He got friends in school and joined a bicycle club. He wrote to me a few times ("I'm biking with some friends and I feel great"); letters about how he would try to get into university. After some time, the letters stopped. Now he had really started to live his own life. Maybe I gave David something. At least I learned a lot from him. I learned how time makes it possible to overcome what seems to be an insuperable pain. I learned to be there for people who need me. And David showed me how one - without any words - can reach out to another person. All it takes is a hug, a shoulder to cry on, a friendly touch, a sympathetic nature - and an ear that listens. The story above inspire me. If I look around and open the eyes of my heart, I will be able to see people that need to be healed, hurting people. People that need a friendly touch, or some people that need our ear. This story remind me to open my eyes and heart to people in need. I let my job, deadline, meeting, paperwork, my personal problems stop me from looking around and share the love with other people, with my friends, with my family. I'm too busy to take care of my job and without I realize it...it become a shell that isolated me from the outside world. It cover the light and stop me from being a salt.

Attitude

The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, then circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think, say, or do. It is more important than appearance, talent, or skill. It will make or break a company, a church, a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.

We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes.