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His Mom Served Burnt Toast. But Then He Was Shocked When His Dad Said This.

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When I was a kid, my Mom liked to cook food and every now & then I remember she used to cook for us. One night in particular when she had made dinner after a long hard day at work, Mom placed a plate of bread jam and extremely burned toast in front of my dad. I was waiting to see if anyone noticed the burnt toast. But Dad just ate his toast and asked me how was my day at school. I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember I heard Mom apologizing to dad for burning the toast. And I’ll never forget what he said: “Honey, I love burned toast.”

Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his toast burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, “Your momma put in a long hard day at work today and she was really tired. And besides, A burnt toast never hurts anyone but harsh words do!” You know, life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people I’m not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else.

What I’ve learned over the years, is that learning to accept each others faults and choosing to celebrate each others differences, is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship. Life is too short to wake up with regrets. Love the people who treat you right and have compassion for the ones who don’t.

ENJOY LIFE NOW.

Source: http://www.clickyups.com

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See more: A Doctor Operated For Free On A Woman Who Years Earlier Had Given Him A Glass Of Milk

This is a true story of a boy named Howard Kelly. He was born unprivileged hence, he sells goods from one house to another just to earn a living and pay his education. One day he felt so hungry and decided to ask for something to eat at the next house he is set to visit. However, he lost his guts to ask for a meal when a beautiful young woman opened the door for him.

Instead of asking for a meal, he just asked for one glass of water. But the young lady noticed that he looked hungry. So instead of water she brought him one large glass of milk. He slowly drank the milk and asked “How much do I need to pay”? The lady replied, “You don’t have to pay me anything as mother taught us to never take any pay for kindness”.

He thanked her with all his heart and walked away. However, that little act of kindness made a mark on his heart and made him feel stronger and better. He was ready to give up in his life before that happened but because someone had showed him kindness in a very unexpected event, he regained his trust in God and man. Then he grew up and became a successful doctor.

Years had pass and the young woman became seriously ill. The local doctors were kind of baffled of her case so they sent her to the hospital in the big city. A specialist is needed to study her rare illness so they consulted Dr. Howard Kelly. He is a renowned Gynecologist who founded the Gynecologic Oncology division at Johns Hopkins University.

When Dr. Kelly heard the name of the town where the patient came from, an inexplicable light filled his eyes. He immediately went to see the patient and recognized her at one glance. Determined to save her, he went back to the consultation room and did his best to save the life of a woman who once made a difference in his life. After a long battle, he finally won.

Dr. Kelly requested the hospital accounts to forward the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it and without any hesitation wrote something on the bill and had it sent to the woman’s room. The woman got the bill and was afraid to open it for she was so sure that the cost is high and would probably take all her life to pay for it. But when she finally opened it, something caught her eye. At the corner of the bill were words she hardly believe her eyes. It is written: “Paid in full with one glass of milk”. (Singed) Dr. Howard Kelly

Source: http://www.inspiredlivingaffirmations.com

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See also: Don’t Underestimate Anyone Because Everyone Has A Different Story!

A poor boy was in love with a rich man daughter….One day the boy proposed to her and the girl said…”Hey! Listen, your monthly salary is my daily hand expenses..How can I be involved with you..?

How could you have thought of that? I can never love you, so forget about me and get engaged to someone else OF your level”

But somehow the boy could not forget her so easily…..Some time 10 years later they stumbled into each other in a shopping mall.

The lady again said….,”Hey.. ! You! How are you? Now I’m married and do you know how much my husband’s salary is..? $15,700 per month! Can you beat that? And he is also very smart”

The guy’s eyes got wet with tears on hearing those words from the same lady….

A few seconds later, her husband came around but before the lady could say a word her husband seeing the guy, said……
“Sir you’re here and you’ve met my wife..” Then he said to his wife,”This is my boss, I’m also one of those working on his $100 million project!

And do you know a fact my dear? My boss loved a lady but he couldn’t win her heart….That’s why he has remained unmarried since.

How lucky would that lady have been, if she had married this my boss now? These days, who would love someone that much he said all these to his wife.

The lady looked in total shock but couldn’t utter a word….

Final Words:

Life is so short and it’s just like a mirror.

You can only see as much as it reflects. So don’t be too arrogant or proud by looking down on others because of their current situations.

Things get changed with time just like the weather..! Don’t underestimate anyone because everyone has a different story!

Source: sparkpeople.com

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See also: 

The Cab Ride – A Sweet Lesson on Patience

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

There was a time in my life twenty years ago when I was driving a cab for a living. It was a cowboy’s life, a gambler’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss, constant movement, and the thrill of a dice roll every time a new passenger got into the cab.

What I didn’t count on when I took the job was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, the car became a rolling confessional. Passengers would climb in, sit behind me in total darkness and anonymity, and tell me of their lives. We were like strangers on a train, the passengers and I, hurtling through the night, revealing intimacies we would never have dreamed of sharing during the brighter light of day.

In those hours, I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh, and made me weep. And none of those lives touched me more than that of a woman I picked up late on a warm August night.

I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover or someone going off to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at the address, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground-floor window. Under these circumstances many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a short minute, and then drive away. Too many bad possibilities awaited a driver who went up to a darkened building at two-thirty in the morning.

But I had seen too many people trapped in a life of poverty who depended on the cab as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door to try to find the passenger. It might, I reasoned, be someone who needed my assistance. Would I not want a driver to do the same if my mother or father had called for a cab?

So I walked to the door and knocked.

“Just a minute,” answered a frail and elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman, somewhere in her eighties, stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like you might see in a costume shop or a Goodwill store or in a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The sound had been her dragging it across the floor.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. “I’d like a few moments alone. Then, if you could come back and help me? I’m not very strong.”

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm, and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

“It’s nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”

“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. Her praise and appreciation were almost embarrassing.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”

“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

“I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor said I should go there. He says I don’t have very long.”

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to go?” I asked.

For the next two hours we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they had first been married. She made me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she would have me slow down in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a tar driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. Without waiting for me, they opened the door and began assisting the woman. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her: perhaps she had phoned them right before we left.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase up to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You have to make a living,” she answered.

“There are other passengers,” I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent over and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say. I squeezed her hand once, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me I could hear the door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I did not pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the remainder of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten a driver who had been angry or abusive or impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run or had honked once, then driven away? What if I had been in a foul mood and had refused to engage the woman in conversation? How many other moments like that had I missed or failed to grasp?

We are so conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unawares. When that woman hugged me and said that I had brought her a moment of joy, it was possible to believe that I had been placed on earth for the sole purpose of providing her with that last ride. I do not think that I have done anything in my life that was any more important.

So sad, yet so very wonderful.

By Kent Nerburn