A Ten-Cent Idea

When young F. W. Woolworth was a store clerk, he tried to convince his boss to have a ten-cent sale to reduce inventory.




The boss agreed, and the idea was a resounding success. This inspired Woolworth to open his own store and price items at a nickel and a dime. He needed capital for such a venture, so he asked his boss to supply the capital for part interest in the store.



His boss turned him down flat. "The idea is too risky," he told Woolworth. "There are not enough items to sell for five and ten cents." Woolworth went ahead without his boss's backing, and he not only was successful in his first store, but eventually he owned a chain of F. W. Woolworth stores across the nation. Later, his former boss was heard to remark, "As far as I can figure out, every word I used to turn Woolworth down cost me about a million dollars."



-- Author Unknown

A Special Teacher

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very


first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most

teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all

the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible

because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row,

was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.



Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't

play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkept and

that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant.



It got to the point during the first few months that she would

actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen,

making bold X's and then marking the F at the top of the paper biggest

of all. Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to

enjoy him, either.



At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review

each child's records and put Teddy's off until last. When she opened

his file, she was in for a surprise. His first-grade teacher wrote,

"Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does

his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."



His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well-

liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a

terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."



His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his

mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his

father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect

him if some steps aren't taken."



Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't

show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and

sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."



By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem, but Christmas was coming

fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the

day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on

Teddy Stoddard.



Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright

paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy,

brown paper of a scissored grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to

open it in the middle of the other presents.



Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone

bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-

quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter when she

exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some

of the perfume behind the other wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed behind

just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like

my mom used to."



After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very

day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and speaking. Instead, she

began to teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to

one they all called "Teddy."



As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she

encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be

an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the

end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the

class and...well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had

once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.



A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her

that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his

favorite. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy.



He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class,

and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.



Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while

things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with

it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He

assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.



Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he

explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a

little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite

teacher, but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was

signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.



The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter

that Spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married. He

explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was

wondering...well, if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew

usually reserved for the mother of the groom. And guess what, she wore

that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And I bet on

that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like...well, just like

the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas

together.



-- Author Unknown

The Fat Burning Hormone

You may have heard that eating before bed is a big-time "no no" for those looking to lose weight. In fact, you've probably even heard that eating late at night will undoubtedly cause you to GAIN weight...even worse!



Well, there's good news, and that good news is that not every food that you eat past 7PM will be automatically deposited to your butt, thighs, and love handles.



In fact, there are certain foods that you can eat as a late-night snack that can actually INCREASE your fatloss results! The key is knowing which foods to eat, and which to avoid, as the evening progresses.



Here's a good rule of thumb: Avoid carbs before bed in favor of slow-digesting high-quality protein.



Carbohydrate consumption causes significant rise in the storage hormone insulin, which also puts the breaks on fat-burning. That's a recipe for disaster in the late evening hours as your metabolism is winding down, but fortunately, slow-digesting protein isn't.



Instead, slow digesting proteins provide your body with a steady flow of amino acids throughout the night to help you recover from exercise and maintain your calorie-burning lean muscle as you lose fat.



Here are some of my top pre-bedtime choices:



1. Animal and Marine Protein (not red meat) - Animal and marine protein sources such as chicken, turkey, and fish are great pre-bed meal choices because they digest slowly and have a very low insulin release. These sources also promote the release of another hormone, glucagon, that assists the body with breaking down stored carbs and fat within your body to be burned for energy...a double win! Red meat has a significantly higher insulin response so it's best to avoid in the evening.



2. Cottage Cheese - Cottage cheese is very slow digesting and coats the stomach to be assimilated by the body over many hours. As a protein, it also stimulates glucagon release; a solid pre-bedtime choice. Just make sure you're using plain cottage cheese, not the flavored varieties with added sugars.



3. Green Vegetables - While these aren't considered a protein, they contain virtually no calories, are high in fiber, and they're very filling. Often times when I get a late night craving I eat a big bowl of green veggies and it completely kills my craving...a diet savior!



4. A Slow-digesting, Low-carb Protein Shake - I use a slow-digesting protein shake before bed literally every day. It's become somewhat of a ritual and great, tasty way to end my day. The vast majority of my clients have grown to love the habit as well...who doesn't love dessert before bed? :) I normally blend the shake with almond butter to get some healthy fats in there, and man, it tastes good with the right protein powder.



WARNING: Avoid taking a simple whey protein powder before bed...research has show



that it causes more of an insulin release than white bread! Instead, you need a time-releasesd blend that includes a blend of slow-digesting, high-quality proteins.



Source: Biotrust Nutrition

A Room With A View

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man

was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help

drain the fluid from his lungs.



His bed was next to the room's only window. Th e other man had to

spend all his time fl at on his back. Th e men talked for hours on

end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs,

their involvement in the military service and where they had been on

vacation. Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could

sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the

things he could see outside the window. Th e man in the other bed

began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be

broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world

outside.



Th e window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans

played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young

lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the

rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the

city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window

described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of

the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One

warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his

mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with

descriptive words.



Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring

water for their baths, only to find the lifeless body of the man by

the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and

called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it

seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to

the window. Th e nurse was happy to make the switch, and aft er making

sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.



Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first

look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of

seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the

window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. Th e man asked the nurse

what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such

wonderful things outside this window.



The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the

wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."



-- Author Unknown

Chush

In New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning-disabled




children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school



career, while others can be main-streamed into conventional



schools. At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a Chush



child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who



attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he



cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything



God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand



things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and



figures as other children do. Where is God's perfection?"



The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's



anguish and stilled by the piercing query. "I believe," the



father answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the



world, the perfection that He seeks is in the way people react to



this child."



He then told the following story about his son Shaya: One



afternoon Shaya and his father walked past a park where some boys



Shaya knew were playing baseball. Shaya asked, "Do you think they



will let me play?" Shaya's father knew that his son was not at



all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team.



But Shaya's father understood that if his son was chosen to play



it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging.



Shaya's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked



if Shaya could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his



team-mates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and



said, "We are losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth



inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up



to bat in the ninth inning."



Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was



told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field. In



the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs



but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning,



Shaya's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases



loaded with the potential winning run on base, Shaya was



scheduled to be up.



Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give



away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shaya was given



the bat. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because



Shaya didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone



hit with it. However, as Shaya stepped up to the plate, the



pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya



should at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in



and Shaya swung clumsily and missed. One of Shaya's team-mates



came up to Shaya and together they held the bat and faced the



pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few



steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya.



As the pitch came in, Shaya and his team-mate swung the bat and



together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher



picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball



to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would



have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw



it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first



baseman. Everyone started yelling, "Shaya, run to first. Run to



first!" Never in his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered



down the baseline wide eyed and startled. By the time he reached



first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown



the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Shaya, who was



still running. But the right fielder understood what the



pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over



the third baseman's head. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to



second." Shaya ran towards second base as the runners ahead of



him deliriously circled the bases towards home. As Shaya reached



second base, the opposing short stop ran to him, turned him in



the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to third."



As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him



screaming, "Shaya run home!" Shaya ran home, stepped on home



plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him



the hero, as he had just hit a "grand slam" and won the game for



his team.



"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down



his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of God's



perfection."



- Author Unknown

Why Not For Man?

Where we live, on the Eastern shore of Lilianaland, the gentle


waters run in and out like fingers slimming at the tips. They

curl into the smaller creeks and coves like tender palms.





The Canada geese know this place, as do the white swans and the

ducks who ride an inch above the waves of Chesapeake Bay as they

skim their way into harbor. In the autumn, by the thousands, they

come home for the winter. The swans move toward the shores in a

stately glide, their tall heads proud and unafraid. They lower

their long necks deep into the water, where their strong beaks

dig through the river bottoms for food. And there is, between the

arrogant swans and the prolific geese, an indifference, almost a

disdain.





Once or twice each year, snow and sleet move into the area. When

this happens, if the river is at its narrowest, or the creek

shallow, there is a freeze which hardens the water to ice.





It was on such a ! morning near Oxford, Lilianaland, that a friend

of mine set the breakfast table beside the huge window, which

overlooked the Tred Avon River. Across the river, beyond the

dock, the snow laced the rim of the shore in white. For a moment

she stood quietly, looking at what the night's storm had painted.

Suddenly she leaned forward and peered close to the frosted

window.





"It really is," she cried out loud, "there is a goose out there."









She reached to the bookcase and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

Into their sights came the figure of a large Canada goose, very

still, its wings folded tight to its sides, its feet frozen to

the ice.





Then from the dark skies, she saw a line of swans. They moved in

their own singular formation, graceful, intrepid, and free. They

crossed from the west of the broad creek high above the house,

moving steadily to the east.





As my friend watched, the leader swung to the right, then the

white string of birds became a white circle. It floated from the

top of the sky downward. At last, as easy as feathers coming to

earth, the circle landed on the ice. My friend was on her feet

now, with one unbelieving hand against her mouth. As the swans

surrounded the frozen goose, she feared what life he still had

might be pecked out by those great swan bills.





Instead, amazingly instead, those bills began to work on the ice.

The long necks were lifted and curved down, again and again. It

went on for a long time. At last, the goose was rimmed by a

narrow margin of ice instead of the entire creek. The swans rose

again, following the leader, and hovered in that circle, awaiting

the results of their labors.





The goose's head lifted. Its body pulled. Then the goose was free

and standing on the ice. He was moving his big webbed feet

slowly. And the swans stood in the air watching. Then, as if he

had cried, "I cannot fly," four of the swans came down around

him. Their powerful beaks scraped the goose's wings from top to

bottom, scuttled under its wings and rode up its body, chipping

off and melting the ice held in the feathers. Slowly, as if

testing, the goose spread its wings as far as they would go,

brought them together, accordion-like, and spread again.





When at last the wings reached their fullest, the four swans took

off and joined the hovering group. They resumed their eastward

journey, in perfect formation, to their secret destination.





Behind them, rising with incredible speed and joy, the goose

moved into the sky. He followed them, flapping double time, until

he caught up, until he joined the last end of the line, like a

small child at the end of a crack-the-whip of older boys.





My friend watched them until they disappeared over the tips of

the farthest trees. Only then, in the dusk, which was suddenly

deep, did she realize that tears were running down her cheeks and

had been - for how long she didn't know.





This is a true story. It happened. I do not try to interpret it.

I just think of it in the bad moments, and from it comes only one

hopeful question: "If so for birds, why not for man?









-- Author Unknown

Spiders Web

A young soldier found himself in a terrible and hopeless battle.

The enemy was soundly defeating this young man's army. He and his

comrades found themselves hastily retreating from the battle

field in defeat, running away in fear for their very lives. The

enemy gave chase. This young man ran hard and fast, full of fear

and desperation, but soon found himself cut off from his comrades

in arms.

He eventually came upon a rocky ledge containing a cave. Knowing

the enemy was close behind, and that he was exhausted from the

chase, he chose to hide there. After he crawled into the cave, he

fell to his face in the darkness, desperately crying to God to

save him and protect him from his enemies. He also made a bargain

with God, one which I (and perhaps you too?) have made before. He

promised that if God saved him, he would serve Him for the

remainder of his days.

When he looked up from his despairing plea for help, he saw a

spider beginning to weave its web at the entrance of the cave. As

he watched the delicate threads being slowly drawn across the

mouth of the cave, the young soldier pondered its irony. He

thought, "I asked God for protection and deliverance, and he sent

me a spider instead. How can a spider save me?"

His heart was hardened, knowing the enemy would soon discover his

hiding place and kill him. And soon he did hear the sound of his

enemies, who were now scouring the area looking for those in

hiding. One soldier with a gun slowly walked up to the cave's

entrance. As the young man crouched in the darkness, hoping to

surprise the enemy in a last-minute desperate attempt to save his

own life, he felt his heart pounding wildly out of control.

As the enemy cautiously moved forward to enter the cave, he came

upon the spider's web, which by now was completely strung across

the opening. He backed away and called out to a comrade, "There

can't be anyone in here. They would have had to break this

spider's web to enter the cave. Let's move on."

Years later, this young man, who made good his promise by

becoming a preacher and evangelist, wrote about that ordeal. What

he observed has stood by me in times of trouble, especially

during those times when everything seemed impossible.

He wrote: "Where God is, a spider's web is as a stone wall. Where

God is not, a stone wall is as a spider's web."

-- Author unknown