精美短文欣赏(10篇)

A Story of True Love and Acceptance

This is what True Love is all about:

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 a.m., when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him look at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation. I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer' s Disease.

As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now. I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?"

He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life." True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

Gifting a Homeless Man A Little Something He “Dropped”

He was a man I assumed to be homeless, because in the freezing Michigan winter, you could spot him on his bike, with a few small bags of cans, braving the icy weather to stop at the store. The thing that set him apart from the few other homeless in our area, were his dogs. He had two big, meek, but beautiful dogs that accompanied him everywhere he went. I noticed this, and thought, what a good man, to care for those dogs, even when he has trouble caring for himself. The dogs were not malnourished, or beaten down looking, though clearly they hated the below freezing temps as much as he did. One day, I had an extra 12 dollars, and I stalked him a bit, as he noticed my car, and clearly not knowing me, got skittish. I managed to corner him in a parking lot, and told him he had dropped this, and I handed him the 12 dollars. At first he began to debate it, but I insisted that he had dropped it off the back of his bike. I then told him he was doing a great thing caring for those dogs.I will

be surprising him again soon with a little something he dropped, it brought me great joy to know he did not have to rely on that little bag of cans, at least for that day anyhow.

The Importance of a Simple Smile

This event happened a long time ago, but it is something that has stayed with me all these years. When I was in high school, all of the students went on a retreat. At some point, we were given an exercise where we had to go off by ourselves in silence to do some writing.

As everyone was dispersing and walking around the retreat center to find a place of solitude, I saw a boy who looked kind of down. I did not know him but we locked eyes for a moment and I smiled at him. It felt simply natural to give someone a friendly smile. I could not go talk to him because of the restriction on speaking at that time. I had no idea how that small gesture would affect him until later.

After the quiet time, we regrouped and there was a discussion and sharing time. This boy stood up and shared that he had been feeling very sad but that one girl gave him a friendly smile and it helped. Just that small connection with someone else had cheered him up. He said it helped him not feel so alone with what he was dealing with.

I am so glad that boy shared his feelings with the group. This anecdote is from over 20 years ago. The boy was not someone I ever saw again. I do not even remember his name. However, I will never forget the lesson he gave me about the importance of a simple smile which we all can do.

Lighting Up A Stranger’s Home

One Saturday, I got a phone call about electrical problems. Since I am not an electrician, I quickly realized that the woman on the line had the wrong number. The woman on the phone sounded extremely anxious as her electricity wasn't working. Her husband tried to replace a wall switch, but now some of their lights wouldn’t turn on, and the heat had shut off.

The woman thought she was calling an electrician who has done work for her in the past. I had just recently changed my number and she got me instead. I'm not an electrician but I do work with electricity.

I informed her that she had the wrong number, and I didn’t know what her old electrician changed his number to. She apologized, and we said goodbye. After I hung up the phone I thought maybe I could help her so I dialed *69 and found out she was just one town over.

When I got to her house, I told her I would help her, but I would not accept any money. This confused her and she asked why I would bother if I wasn’t getting paid. I told her it was an act of kindness and to "pay it forward.” Dorothy and Jacob, who were both retired, seemed surprised and said they never met anyone like me.

I had to run to the local Kmart to get a 3-way switch. They seemed worried I wouldn't return but I assured them I would be right back. Her husband had installed the wrong switch which was causing a short. After I got the lights working and reset the breakers I re-lit the pilot light to fix the heater.

After I was done, they thanked me and tried to give me some money. I told them I wouldn’t accept anything, and that the best payment would be to find someone else to help out. I also said if you can't find someone else to repay then just be extra nice to each other. They were both incredibly happy that I managed to solve their electrical problems quickly, but I think I was even happier at the opportunity to help them.

A Few Cup of Tea That Touched Many Souls

Last week, I witnessed a beautiful act of kindness. Actually, I witnessed a million over the ten days spent in the Kutch region of Gujarat, India and chose to share this one with you as a testament of the powerful vibration of giving.

I traveled to Kutch with Jayesh-bhai, the founder of Manav Sadhna NGO, two Manav Sadhna staff – Jagat and Bhaskar –and some friends. On our return to Ahmedabad, we stopped for 'chai' (Indian Tea) at a truck stop. The chai was absolutely delicious and we reordered more two times, with regular exclamations of its quality to the servers and cashier. When it came time to pay, the cashier would not take our money. After some forced attempts to pay, Jagat accepted the gift of the chai, took back the money, thanked him and asked the cashier for his phone number. Jagat promised to call the cashier when he had paid the gift forward to someone else.

What a powerful way of engaging people in paying forward and seeing the impactful ripple effect of their actions! Two days later, Jagat called the cashier to tell him that, with the money, Jagat had purchased 5 bottles of hair oil for a child he had met in the slum that had run out. I can only imagine how the cashier now sees his cups of chai.

A Lift That Give Me Joy

Last fall, before Thanksgiving, I was making my way in my car out of the shopping center parking lot. I was all alone in the car. I noticed a woman laden with bags and her two boys, one carrying a pumpkin and the other another bag.

They were headed, I assumed, to the bus stop across the major road, since it was too far to walk with all those purchases to any of the nearby apartment communities. On a random impulse, I rolled down my window and asked if they were indeed headed to the bus stop. “Yes,” the mother responded.I asked "Would you like a ride?" "Oh yes!” was their excited reaction.

I was delighted, and, after maneuvering over to the side out of the way of other traffic, I stopped and the boys piled into the back seat. The mother started to push in beside them. I stopped her by saying, “Oh, you come on up here by me. I’m not a taxi!”So off we went.

Right away, I decided to take them the mile and a half to their home, since I had time and they had bundles. The boys chattered away telling me about themselves, and I had just a fine time listening and talking with all of them. It felt so good to be able to do this little trip and know that with such a small effort I could make a big difference to a tired mother. I’m not sure who got the most out of it.

Incidentally, this was special for me because, as a handicapped person, I’m often on the receiving end of help and now know how especially good it feels to be useful.

Knowing That She Was There Made Us Feel Much Less Alone

When my son was first diagnosed with Autism, it was a very hard time for us. In some ways it was a relief, because we finally had a name for what was going on in our lives, but it also meant years more of uncertainty, and we didn't know what the future held.

When I shared the news with my coworkers, I was so surprised and happy to receive so much immediate love and support from them. They were focused on what we needed, as opposed to how it would affect my ability to make it to work.

One coworker in particular was amazing to my family and I. She called me into her office a few days later, and gave me a "worry stone". This is a small circular stone with an indention for your thumb. It gives you something to focus on when you're worried, rubbing your thumb around on this stone. It was a lovely gesture. She then extended a permanent offer to drive us to any appointments or testing that we needed. Considering the fact that we lived 90 minutes from where most treatments took place, this was a tremendous offer. She made it very clear to me that this offer included last minute trips or emergencies. Anytime we needed to go

anywhere, she was willing to be our transportation. She said that we needed to be able to focus on our son as opposed to having to divide our attention between the road and him.

We never did need to take her up on her wonderful offer, but knowing it was there and that she was so willing to help made it feel like we were much less alone.

I'm tremendously grateful to her and everyone around us who rallied to be a support system in our time of need. We were really overwhelmed by the level of support we received.

The Seed That Never Grown

A successful business man was growing old and knew it was time to choose a successor to take over the business.

Instead of choosing one of his Directors or his children, he decided to do something different. He called all the young executives in his company together.

He said, "It is time for me to step down and choose the next CEO. I have decided to choose one of you."

The young executives were shocked, but the boss continued. "I am going to give each one of you a seed today - one very special seed. I want you to plant the seed, water it, and come back here one year from today with what you have grown from the seed I have given you. I will then judge the plants that you bring, and the one I choose will be the next CEO."

One man, named Jim, was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed. He went home and excitedly, told his wife the story. She helped him get a pot, soil and compost and he planted the seed. Everyday, he would water it and watch to see if it had grown. After about three weeks, some of the other executives began to talk about their seeds and the plants that were beginning to grow.

Jim kept checking his seed, but nothing ever grew. Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks went by, still nothing. By now, others were talking about their plants, but Jim didn't have a plant and he felt like a failure.

Six months went by -- still nothing in Jim's pot. He just knew he had killed his seed. Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had nothing. Jim didn't say anything to his colleagues, however.... He just kept watering and fertilizing the soil - He so wanted the seed to grow.

A year finally went by and all the young executives of the company brought their plants to the CEO for inspection. Jim told his wife that he wasn't going to take an empty pot. But she asked him to be honest about what happened. Jim felt sick to his stomach, it was going to be the most embarrassing moment of his life, but he knew his wife was right.

He took his empty pot to the board room. When Jim arrived, he was amazed at the variety of plants grown by the other executives. They were beautiful -- in all shapes and sizes.

Jim put his empty pot on the floor and many of his colleagues laughed, a few felt sorry for him!

When the CEO arrived, he surveyed the room and greeted his young executives.

Jim just tried to hide in the back. "My, what great plants, trees, and flowers you have grown," said the CEO. "Today one of you will be appointed the next CEO!"

All of a sudden, the CEO spotted Jim at the back of the room with his empty pot. He ordered the Financial Director to bring him to the front. Jim was terrified. He thought, "The CEO knows I'm a failure! Maybe he will have me fired!"

When Jim got to the front, the CEO asked him what had happened to his seed - Jim told him the story.

The CEO asked everyone to sit down except Jim. He looked at Jim, and then announced to the young executives, "Behold your next Chief Executive Officer! His name is Jim!"

Jim couldn't believe it. Jim couldn't even grow his seed. "How could he be the new CEO?" the others said. Then the CEO said, "One year ago today, I gave everyone in this room a seed. I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it, and bring it back to me today. But I gave you all boiled seeds; they were dead - it was not possible for them to grow.

All of you, except Jim, have brought me trees and plants and flowers. When you found that the seed would not grow, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you. Jim was the only one with the courage and honesty to bring me a pot with my seed in it. Therefore, he is the one who will be the new Chief Executive Officer!"

If you plant honesty, you will reap trust; if you plant goodness, you will reap friends; if you plant humility, you will reap greatness; if you plant perseverance, you will reap contentment; if you plant consideration, you will reap perspective; if you plant hard work, you will reap success; if you plant forgiveness, you will reap reconciliation; if you plant faith in God , you will reap a harvest. So, be careful what you plant now; it will determine what you will reap later.

Whatever You Give To Life, Life Gives You Back.

Nightshift at the Marriott

It had been a long, hot August day. We'd driven over six hundred miles and it was nearing 11 pm as we entered Kingman, Arizona. We pulled off and picked a motel. Much to my surprise, it being mid-week, the deskman informed me they were full. Next place, same story. This time, I asked the clerk for suggestions.

"Try the Hampton Inn."

At the Hampton we were greeted with, "We're booked. Sorry."

"What's going on?" I asked. "Is there some kind of convention in town?"

"A tour bus just pulled in with 60 people," he said. "Plus lots of people are heading up to the Grand Canyon. It's an unusual evening. You might try the Best Western. I think they had one room left about an hour ago."

We tried the Best Western. No luck.

By that time, we'd traveled to the west end of Kingman. We turned around for another try and were startled to see the moon-huge, reddish and only half full-standing barely above the horizon in the still of the desert night. "You can even see the craters," my wife said almost to herself.

I'd been in Santa Fe for a conference. My wife, returning from Europe, had flown into to Albuquerque the night before. In spite of her jet lag, we'd put in about 350 miles between Belen and then north past Santa Fe to El Rito. So now, when I suggested we push on to Needles fifty miles down the road, she balked. "We'd get in at mid-night and who says we'd have any better luck?" She was still on French time and struggling to stay awake.

My confidence about finding lodging was gone. We were part of a shadowy crowd of travelers all competing for a few rooms. The Marriott, I'd been told at the last place, was worth a try. It had just recently opened for business.

Kingman is a desert town. In August daytime temperatures in the 100 degree range are common. Still, at 3300 feet elevation, it's consistently at least ten degrees cooler than Needles just across the Colorado River in the Mojave Desert and only 500 feet above sea level. Passing through Needles a week earlier a clerk told me I'd missed 121 degrees by only a few days. So I'd hoped to stay at the higher elevation.

We found the Marriott tucked away from the main drag. A banner was draped across the fourth story. Permanent signage hadn't yet been installed. Entering the lobby, I found myself third in line. Not good.

The lobby was large and spare, a design choice, I figured, the better to accentuate the large soap bubbles painted tromp l'oeil in pinks and blues on the wall behind the front desk. The bubbles were puzzling, but there were more important things to worry about and I turned my attention to a lone young woman behind the counter. She'd taken the credit card of a man in a t-shirt and cut off jeans with three kids clustered around him. They were struggling with their excitement at such an adventure and kept breaking out in wiggles and various body motions. At one point, the boy, who had been falling backwards to be caught by his sister, crashed loudly against the front desk. His sister's attention had wandered. The boy jumped up and was fine, but what was taking so long?

Minutes passed as the clerk stared at a computer screen. She was in her twenties, I guessed, and seemed small in lobby of the barely finished, nearly sold-out Kingman Marriott.

Finally, she looked up from her computer screen, "I'm sorry. Your card is not being accepted." All this time, the phone at the front desk had been ringing relentlessly. Now she picked up. I couldn't hear what she said before putting the caller on hold.

Surely she wouldn't allow someone on the phone to get a room ahead of us who were standing there in line, would she? Just then I noticed from the corner of my eye a man walking from the elevator toward the desk. He arrived next to the father with the credit card problem and leaned in trying to catch the clerk's attention. "You could leave us a two-hundred dollar deposit," she was saying to the father. I guessed he was toast. There must have been two phones, because the ringing continued.

The young Asian man in front of me and I now struck up a conversation-competitors for a room, yes-but united as observers of the drama unfolding before us. The father had the cash it seemed. Papers were signed and he headed away from the desk with his kids. Now she turned to the man from the elevator. The room he'd just paid for hadn't been made up. "I'll take care of that, sir if you can give me a few minutes," she said. The phones continued ringing. Jeez, I thought, this place isn't quite up to speed. As I watched all this unfold, I couldn't help admiring the young woman's refusal to capitulate to the increasing pressure, but I was also beginning to wonder if I'd soon seen a meltdown.

In any case, now I was second in line. Was it possible that two rooms were still left? As the father and kids left, the man in front of me stepped forward. The young woman at the desk took this moment to pick up what must have been a third phone; she was now trying to find a maid to take care of the elevator man's unmade bed. Just then, I spotted another man walking from the wings toward the front desk. Another unmade up room?

By now it was well after 11pm. Although I had no proof, I now had a feeling that no employees were left in the entire hotel except for this young woman at the desk. In a small motel, that wouldn't seem odd, but here it did. Don't hotels always have a manager and staff-bellboys, people hidden away in basements, kitchens, offices, back rooms, all quietly present to keep the place functioning? But Kingman is a desert town, a place where nature has been stripped down to the bare bones. Still, standing there in the Marriott lobby, my sense that the single young woman behind the desk constituted the entire hotel staff produced an oddly surreal feeling. A hotel shouldn't be that stripped down, even in a desert town.

Now I was secretly rooting for her even as I imagined an unknown number of night travelers converging on the building at any minute. They would shove through the door and crowd towards the front desk. In fact, two

new parties had come in and were now standing in line behind me. So far, however, conventional etiquette was holding in spite of the cracks beginning to show.

The desk clerk finally hung up-no one had answered. "I'll take care of this in a few minutes if you can wait," she said to the elevator man and turned her attention to the young Asian man. The second man from the wings had now made his way to the desk and was waiting impatiently. She glanced at him. "The room you gave me hasn't been made up!" he says. The phones were still ringing away non-stop. "Give me a couple of minutes, and I'll take care of it," she says, now with the first hint of quaver in her voice.

"How can I help you?" She asks the Asian man with a note of strain.

Here, for the first time in this drama, everything went smoothly. Card cleared. Registration signed, license number written down, keys transferred. Young Asian man heads for his room. My turn to step up.

At this point, a young, well-dressed man enters the lobby from outside and walks purposefully around behind the front desk. He goes directly to an employee door, presses some buttons and disappears into another room. Could help be on the way? A moment later, he re-appears and exchanges a quick glance with the young woman. It's amazing how subtly she conveys just barely holding on here. Taking the situation in, he steps up to me. "Can I help you?" I can hear the young woman saying something about sheets to the two men with unmade beds.

Turns out the room my wife and I get is the last one and more than I'd hoped to pay, but who's arguing? Meanwhile more people have crowded into the lobby, hungry for rooms.

"We're sold out!" The young woman says with some extra volume. Some problems are settled at least. No more rooms.

My wife and I head for the third floor where I slide the card into the lock. The door opens cleanly. This should be the moment of denouement. Respite. And it would have been if, in seeing the clean lines and fresh amenities as we scanned across to the room, we'd found the bed a neat and tidy resting place. Instead we beheld the vivid signature of its former tenant, rumpled sheets and tossed back covers. I quickly walked to the bathroom-used towels were scattered on the floor.

Partly, I was prepared for this. Still, it was the first time I'd paid for a room in a hotel and found it untouched by maid service. My wife sunk down on the couch, too tired to deal with it. I joined her and we sat there in silence. By now it was heading towards midnight.

Maybe because this was a first in my experience, there was something interesting about it. How much of a problem is it, really, to share the used sheets and pillowcases of a stranger? Is it dangerous? Are there diseases to worry about? Maybe. But realistically, aren't such fears exaggerated? Nevertheless, when I really considered climbing in the unmade bed, something said no way. But the rest of the room looked quite pristine. I could see

that my wife was not letting the situation bother her. Instead, she began checking out the fine points of the new Marriott accommodations. "They've really done a nice job here," she said. "I like this room."

For a few minutes I continued pondering. I didn't want to be another complainant, but the cards had been dealt. I would add room 309 to their list of rooms with unmade beds.

Both of the desk clerks were still there. "It's been quite a night, hasn't it?" I said to the young woman, who nodded. "I appreciated how you dealt with all that," I added, and then explained that our room, too, had been overlooked. The young man stepped up. "We'll take care of that, sir. Can you possibly give us ten minutes? We'll bring up new sheets and towels and we'll make an adjustment to the room rate."

"Yes, of course. Thank you. And what's your name?"

"Andy."

Walking back up the stairs, I found myself liking both of these young people.

The minutes ticked by. I studied the stylish drawing over the couch, a blue grid, loosely handled with warm highlights. Corporate art, true, but not bad. My wife had gotten up and was inspecting a few other things. "This is a great place!" she said. It was definitely a big step up from the Motel 6s where I often stayed.

Andy and the young woman must have been busy making up beds. Had ten minutes gone by? I stepped out into the hall. It was empty. I walked toward the elevator where the hallway opened off to the left. And there was the young woman from the front desk sitting alone on a bench. The professional look was gone. She had taken her tailored jacket off and looked even younger.

"We're going to get to your room right away," she said quickly, looking up at me with an open face. She was quite vulnerable. Just a child.

"That's okay." I said. "You guys are doing a great job."

Strangers meet in all kinds of circumstances, but sometimes that separation disappears and is replaced by something else-what to call it? An impersonal intimacy? She could have been my daughter. I went back to the room. After a few more minutes there was a knock and Andy stood at the door with a stack of clean sheets and towels.

Maybe it was at this point I realized that something basic had shifted. When I'd first stepped into the lobby of the Marriott the young woman was just part of the world out there. I was intent on finding my way through that world. But Andy and the young woman were no longer just staff persons working for a hotel chain. And my wife and I were no longer just customers.

Andy stepped in carrying his load of linens and towels. We walked over to the bed together and I started stripping off the bed sheets. He set the linens down quickly and joined me. Soon we had the bed clear and he

picked out a sheet. "Is this okay?" he asked apologetically. It wasn't a fitted sheet.

"It'll be fine."

We stretched it across the bed together. He looked through his stack and pulled out another piece of linen. "Do you think this one is okay?" He held it out for me to feel. "Maybe it's too rough?"

It was nothing to fuss about. "Sure," I said. "It's fine." And we set about stretching it across the bed. My wife joined us. Now the three of us were making up a hotel bed together. The awkward sense inherent in this was more than offset by a surplus of good will all around.

From the outside it could be described this way: hotel staffer, Andy, wanting only to be helpful, to resolve a problem and to carry out his responsibilities likely had ambitions in hotel management and was willing to do what needed to be done whether or not it fit his job description. The same was likely true for the young woman, as well. My wife and I, tired travelers, wanted nothing more than a peaceful night's sleep along with a modicum of self-respect.

All true, but there was another level in play, too. As the evening had unfolded, I had become progressively more willing to let the unexpected scenario unfold as it might. As Andy and I worked together, not only was I starting to feel cheerful, but I was aware of a complete shift in my feeling of relationship with Andy and the young woman. It was time I learned her name.

"Amber," Andy replied.

"Well, Amber really did a fine job," I told him. Andy nodded. I was repeating myself, already taking on the role of the well-meaning uncle. It was a fine new role to take, a family role. Why couldn't such things happen in a desert town late one night?

"I'll put new towels in the bathroom. Is two enough?"

As Andy headed for the door there was one little detail we needed to settle. "Now you mentioned an adjustment on the room rate?"

"Yes." Andy said. "We're giving you half off."

"Thank you. That's great."

"Can we get you anything else?"

"We're fine. Thanks."

We shook hands and Andy left. As I stood there surprised at how good I felt, I noticed Andy had left his cell phone on the table. I spotted him through an open door in a room down the hall where he was busy taking care of another unmade bed. Funny how little reciprocations can be so satisfying.

Back in the room, my wife and I sat on the bed. A window with a delicate fabric scrim allowed us to see the lights of Kingman. The cars were still rolling by on I-40, travelers in the night. It was quite beautiful.

In the morning, my wife was up first and found the sheet of paper that had been slipped under the door. By the time we were leaving both Andy and Amber were gone. I walked up to the clerk and held out the sheet of paper. "Would you check on room 309? It looks like we're not being charged. Is that right?"

"309," she said, and looked at her computer screen. "That's right," she said. "No charge."

One Sign of Hope

This week we took a handcrafted sign that we made down to our local Salvation Army and presented it to the captain. The sign read ‘HOPE’. He ha d an idea of where to put it as soon as he read it. The look on his face showed appreciation, with a touch of bewilderment.

This organization sees, first-hand, the struggles of so many people. The reason we made and gifted them the sign is to help lives, who are in need of believing in a better tomorrow. A simple word can say so much. Life dishes out hard hits and unjust situations for all of us, at one time or another. We hope for an answer, a change of circumstance, or even a miracle. Some are hanging on to hope with all the strength they have.

What would life be like living with no hope? What would the world be like? To best describe what it is, I decided to look at what it would be like without it. I have often heard ‘there is no hope’ for some people or circumstances. I do not believe it. I have seen both change.

We spent 6 hours making the sign. Each letter was cut out, sanded, stained, and made to spell out the word. You’d think that it would be hard to part with something we worked so hard on. But, i t wasn’t. A car was filled with people outside of this building. Everything they owned was tied to the top. I felt bad that I could not give more. I wanted to reach in my pocket and give them the money needed. My pockets were empty though. I’ll probably never forget the looks of despair on their faces.

Some of these projects are so hard to do. To help, a person has to go right to where the need is most. I am not one who can walk away and pretend that I didn’t see someone hurting, look a different direction or look past like I have never seen a thing. I was asked by one of the people if I could help them out with some gas money. I told him that I was flat broke today and had brought only a sign saying the word ‘hope’. I felt stupid and clumsy.

I was sure the y were thinking that ‘hope’ would not fill their gas tank. The response I got back is one I will also always remember: “Thank you. Hope is what we need most right now”. With that our lives went two different directions.

What a cool project this would be for craft hobbyists. Maybe someone reading this will work on a similar project. The places that can use these simple messages are all around us. It will make a difference.

The Captain wrote a nice message to us, here is what it said:

“Thank you so very much. I read your post on the blog and was very touched by it and the comments posted by others. My plan is to palace "Hope" in our homeless shelter in such a way that it's the first thing the residents see as they walk in the doors, ushering them into a place of hope.”

--Capt. Brian

The response is what makes it all worth it.