Pure Thoughts

All entries in the ‘Stories’ Category

By Catherine Pulsifer

Your outlook on life, basically your attitude can determine your happiness and success in life. Attitude is a mindset, how you view your world. Do you see the positive or do you focus on the negative? Our perception of the events in our life, and how we regard these events can be attributed to our attitude.

How can you change your attitude?

- when dealing with a situation try and find the good in it. Focus on the good; do not dwell on the negative. Depending on the situation, you sometimes have to look hard to find the good but it is there. By doing this you start changing attitudes to a positive attitude rather than a negative attitude.

- Remember the saying, “you can’t change other people, you can only change yourself.” So if someone tells you that you have a poor attitude, don’t try and convenience them otherwise as you won’t change their mind. When someone tells us this we have a tendency to take a defensive attitude, instead focus on how you can change.
Can you change attitudes of other people?

- Again, I would refer to the saying, “you can’t change other people, you can only change yourself”. You will end up becoming very frustrated if you try and change other people. Remember, you can only change yourself and how you deal with that individual.
The story below is a story of attitude. The individual in this story could have easily developed a “poor me” attitude, but instead he chose to focus on what he can do, his attitude reflects what a positive outlook on life can be like.

“Now I look beyond what I can’t do and focus on what I CAN.”
Robert M. Hensel
Too often in life, we focus on the things we cannot do.

Sometimes we cannot do things because of financial limitations, health limitations, family limitations, educational limitations, and so on.

Sometimes, we end up limiting ourselves from achieving success in reaching our goals. We end up having a negative attitude which limits our ability to achieve success and happiness in our life.

Technorati Tags: Life, outlook

by: Brian Cavanaugh, T.O.R., The Sower’s Seeds

The disciple asks his master, ” What can I do to attain God?”

The master answers by asking, “What can you do to make the sun rise?”

The disciple says indignantly, “Then why are you giving us all these methods of prayer?”

And the master replies, “To make sure you’re awake when the sun rises.”

Technorati Tags: God, Prayer

By Yuri Alkin

They say that once upon a time, there lived a man who wanted to achieve everything he was capable of achieving. He was obsessed with this desire. He ate, slept, and walked with one and only dream: to die, having accomplished every single thing he was able to accomplish. There were so many things he could do. He felt like the whole world could be his, if he only set his mind to it. At times, he was even horrified by the powers hiding in his mind and heart. He was certain-in fact-he knew that his potential had no limits. He knew that he could accumulate power that would dwarf the power of ancient kings; he knew that he could write books that would shake the minds of generations to come; he knew that he could invent things that would forever change the lives of millions of people. He lived, constantly feeling the power within-and that power knew no bounds.

There was only one obstacle: having such a potential, but only one life, he had to make a choice. He had to decide where to apply all of his enormous abilities. Making that decision was extremely hard, for any choice meant cutting off some future achievements. And so in the meantime, he went to school, graduated, found a respectable well-paid job, married, and bred children. And he spent every minute of his spare time trying to decide where he should apply all his might. Even though he was not interested in applying it to his work, his power was impossible to hide. He was successful in everything he touched, and he earned great respect of the people who worked with him. And all the while, he thought to himself: Imagine what I would achieve once I concentrate entirely on the area of my choice.

Time went by, and he grew older. Some roads he used to dream about became closed to him. But there was still so much he could accomplish. And he kept thinking hard while working, raising children, dealing with everyday problems, and knowing that his potential had no limits. And most people who knew him were of the same opinion, for it was impossible not to realize this, being around him for a while.

One day, a sudden chest pain made him come home early. He dragged his feet to the bathroom. There, feeling weak and empty, he looked in the mirror. A worn-out, gray-haired man stared back at him. But his eyes, though red and tired, were still full of unrealized potential. He peered into these eyes and, all of a sudden, realized one simple truth. The next moment, the pain pierced his heart again, and it stopped beating forever.

Everybody cried, even those who knew him only slightly. The pain of this loss was staggering. Not only had he been a good man but they also knew what great potential had died with him. True, he had spent his life trying to make the choice, but imagine what would’ve happened had he made it. After all, he was so close to making it, and he hadn’t been that old. He could not have had this feeling of unlimited potential for nothing. His potential was truly unlimited. The choice was about to be made, and very soon he could have achieved anything. His life could have become a shining monument, which would have forever inspired future generations. What a loss! What a tragedy! They cried and cried and cried. And they didn’t know what he had realized the moment before he died.

The truth that came upon him was rather simple. People only flatter themselves by thinking that they could have achieved this or that if not for such-and-such circumstances. Yet this is nothing but delusion. At any given moment, as long as you’ve been healthy and haven’t been thrown into the midst of war, crime or forces of nature, you always achieve everything you can. You simply lack something that is necessary for achieving that goal you’ve never reached-a talent, a skill, willpower, a set of priorities, or something else. Like it or not, realize it or not, believe it or not, but you simply lack it. You just think you’ve got what it takes, and only these insurmountable difficulties have prevented you from reaching the ultimate heights. But in reality, what you don’t achieve is something you’re not capable of achieving.

Technorati Tags: Inspirational, Life, people

By Unknown Monk, 1100 A.D.

When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world.

I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation.

When I found I couldn’t change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn’t change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family.

Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.”

Food For Thought:

“After you’ve done a thing the same way for two years, look it over carefully. After five years, look at it with suspicion. And after ten years, throw it away and start all over. ” Alfred Edward Perlman
“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” Anatole France

“Growth is the only evidence of life.” John Henry Newman

“If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies.” Author Unknown

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” Victor Frankl

Technorati Tags: Change, people

by: Author Unknown, Heart At Work

A while back, there was a story about Reuben Gonzolas, who was in the final match of his first professional racquetball tournament. He was playing the perennial champion for his first shot at a victory on the pro circuit. At match point in the fifth and final game, Gonzolas made a super “kill shot” into the front corner to win the tournament. The referee called it good, and one of the linemen confirmed the shot was a winner.

But after a moment’s hesitation, Gonzolas turned and declared that his shot had skipped into the wall, hitting the floor first. As a result, the serve went to his opponent, who went on to win the match.

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Technorati Tags: Integrity

-Henri Nouwen

I hope that I will always be for each person
what he or she needs me to be.
I hope that each person’s death will diminish me,
but that fear of my own will never diminish my joy of life.
I hope that my love for those whom I like will never lessen
my love for those whom I do not.
I hope that another person’s love for me will never
be a measure of my love for him or her.
I hope that everybody will accept me as I am,
but that I never will.
I hope that I will always ask for forgiveness from others,
but will never need to be asked for my own . . .
I hope that I will always recognize my limitations,
but that I will construct none.
I hope that loving will always be my goal,
but that love will never be my idol.
I hope that everyone will always have hope.

Technorati Tags: Hope

Last week I took my children to a restaurant. My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace. As we bowed our heads he said, “God is great and God is Good. Let us thank Him for the food, and I would even thank you more if mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!”

Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark, “That’s what’s wrong with this country. Kids today don’t even know how to pray. Asking God for ice-cream! Why, I never!”

Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me, “Did I do it wrong? is God mad at me?” As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at my son and said, “I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.” “Really?” my son asked. “Cross my heart.”

Then in theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), “Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”

Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I will remember the rest of my life. He picked up his sundae and without a word walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, “Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes and my soul is good already.”

Technorati Tags: Family, Inspiring, Parenting

- Kath Ponsford

I’m trapped, trapped inside myself, I want to get out, get out and be free. I don’t want to live in my shell, But I’m scared, scared to take away my mask.

Friends are forever letting me down, No matter how close they are. They are there if I have a problem, But when I don’t I may as well not exist.

I want someone to trust and care about me, Someone to cry on and someone to listen. I want someone to love me for who I am, Not the masked me me whom everyone knows.

Unfortunately none of this can ever come true, Not from someone on this earth anyway. No one I know is perfect, No one I know can fulfil this.

Except…

Someone I know who is watching down on everyone of us. He has a special plane and a purpose for anyone who turns to Him. There will still be hardship and sorrow, But these will make you strong.

He can be trusted, he is ever so faithful. He cares deeply about each person on this earth. He can be cried upon, and will cry with you. He even puts each tear we cry in a bottle. He is the best listener anyone could be, And most of all He loves us for who we are, No matter what we have done.

“Who could do all this?” I hear you ask. It’s a very dear and special friend of mine called Jesus, With whom I can take away my mask and be free.

Technorati Tags: Trapped

This was my grandmother’s first Christmas without grandfather, and we had promised him before he passed away that we would make this her best Christmas ever. When my mom, dad, three sisters and I arrived at her little house in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, we found she had waited up all night for us to arrive from Texas. After we exchanged hugs, my sisters and I ran into the house. It did seem a little empty without grandfather, and we knew it was up to us to make this Christmas special for her.

Grandfather had always said that the Christmas tree was the most important decoration of all. So we immediately set to work on the beautiful artificial tree that was kept stored in grandfather’s closet. Although artificial, it was the most genuine looking Douglas fir I had ever seen. Tucked away in the closet with the tree was a spectacular array of ornaments, many of which had been my father’s when he was a little boy. As we unwrapped each one, grandmother had a story to go along with it. My mother strung the tree with bright white lights and a red button garland; my sisters and I carefully placed the ornaments on the tree; and finally father was given the honor of lighting the tree.

We stepped back to admire our handiwork. To us, it looked magnificent, as beautiful as the tree in Rockefeller Center. But something was missing.

“Where’s your star’” I asked.

The star was my grandmother’s favorite part of the tree, for it represented the star of Bethlehem that had led the wise men to the infant Jesus.

“Why, it must be here somewhere,” she said, starting to sort through the boxes again. “Your grandfather always packed everything so carefully when he took the tree down.”

As we emptied box after box and found no star, my grandmother’s eyes filled with tears. This was no ordinary ornament, but an elaborate golden star covered with colored jewels and blue lights that blinked on and off. Moreover, grandfather had given it to grandmother some fifty years ago on their first Christmas together. Now, on her first Christmas without him, the star was gone, too.

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Technorati Tags: Christmas

by P. E. Adotey Addo

It was the night before Christmas and I was very sad because my family life had been severely disrupted and I was sure that Christmas would never come. There was none of the usual joy and anticipation that I always felt during the Christmas season. I was eight years old but in the past few months I had grown a great deal. Before this year, I thought Christmas in my village came with many things. Christmas had always been for me one of the joyous religious festivals. It was the time for beautiful Christmas music on the streets, on radio, television, and every where. Christmas had always been a religious celebration and the church started preparing way back in November. We really felt that we were preparing for the birth of the baby Jesus. Christmas was the time when relatives and friends visited each other so there were always people traveling and visiting with great joy from all the different tribes. I always thought that was all Christmas was.

Oh, how I wished I had some of the traditional food consumed at the Christmas Eve dinner and the Christmas Day dinner, I knew I could not taste the rice, chicken, goat, lamb, and fruits of various kinds. The houses were always decorated with beautiful paper ornaments. The children and all the young people loved to make and decorate their homes and schools with colorful crepe paper. All of us looked forward to the Christmas Eve Service at our church. After the service there would be a joyous possession through the streets. Everyone would be in a gala mood with local musicians in a Mardi Gras mood. Then on Christmas Day we all went back to church to read the scriptures and sing carols to remind us of the meaning of the blessed birth of the baby Jesus. We always thought that these were the things that meant Christmas. After the Christmas service young people received gifts of special chocolate, special cookies, and special crackers. Young people were told that the gifts come from Father Christmas, and this always meant Christmas for us. They also received new clothes and perhaps new pairs of shoes. Meanwhile throughout the celebration, everyone was greeted with the special greeting word, “Afishapa” meaning Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Oh how I wish that those memories were real tonight in order to bring us Christmas. However, this Christmas Eve things were different and I knew Christmas would never come. Every one was sad and desperate because of what happened last April when the so-called Army of Liberation attacked our village and took all the young boys and girls away.

Families were separated and some were murdered. We were forced to march and work for many miles without food. We were often hungry and we were given very little food. There was very little food. The soldiers burned everything in our village and during our forced march we lost all sense of time and place. Miraculously we were able to get away from the soldiers during one rainy night. After several weeks in the tropical forest we made our way back to our burned out village. Most of us were sick, exhausted, and depressed. Most of the members of our families were no where to be found. We had no idea what day or time it was. This was the situation until my sick grandmother noticed the reddish and yellow flower we call, “Fire on the Mountain,” blooming in the middle of the marketplace where the tree had stood for generations and had bloomed for generations at Christmas time. For some reason it had survived the fire that had engulfed the marketplace. I remembered how the nectar from this beautiful flower had always attracted insects making them drowsy enough to fall to the ground to become food for crows and lizards. We were surprised that the fire the soldiers started to burn the marketplace and the village did not destroy the “Fire on the Mountain” tree. What a miracle it was. Grandmother told us that it was almost Christmas because the flower was blooming. As far as she could remember this only occurred at Christmas time. My spirits were lifted perhaps for a few minutes as I saw the flower. Soon I became sad again. How could Christmas come without my parents and my village? How could this be Christmas time when we celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace, because since April we have not known any peace, only war and suffering. How could we celebrate as grandmother instructed us to do before she died. Those were the last words she spoke before she died last night. As I continued to think about past joyous Christmases and the present suffering, we heard the horn of a car and not just one horn but several cars approaching our village. At first we thought they were cars full of men with machine guns so we hid in the forest. To our surprise they were not and they did not have guns. They were just ordinary travelers. It seemed the bridge over the river near our village had been destroyed last April as the soldiers left our village. Since it was almost dusk and there were rumors that there were land mines on the roads, they did not want to take any chances. Their detour had led them straight to our village. When they saw us they were shocked and horrified at the suffering and the devastation all around us. Many of these travelers began to cry. They confirmed that tonight was really Christmas Eve. All of them were on their way to their villages to celebrate Christmas with family and friends. Now circumstances had brought them to our village at this time on this night before Christmas. They shared the little food they had with us. They even helped us to build a fire in the center of the marketplace to keep us warm. In the middle of all this, my sister became ill and could not stand up. A short time after we returned to our village my grandmother told me that my oldest sister was expecting a baby. My sister had been in a state of shock and speechless since we all escaped from the soldiers. I was so afraid for my sister because we did not have any medical supplies and we were not near a hospital. Some of the travelers and the villagers removed their shirts and clothes to make a bed for my sister to lie near the fire we had made. On that fateful night my sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. This called for a celebration, war or no war, Africans have to dance and we celebrated until the rooster crowed at 6 a.m. We sang Christmas songs. Every one sang in his or her own language. For the first time all the pain and agony of the past few months escaped. When morning finally came my sister was asked, “What are you going to name the baby”? Would you believe for the first time since our village was burned and all the young girls and boys were taken away, she spoke. She said, “His name is Gye Nyame, which means except God I fear none.”

And so we celebrated Christmas that night. Christmas really did come to our village that night, but it did not come in the cars or with the travelers. It came in the birth of my nephew in the midst of our suffering. We saw hope in what this little child could do. This birth turned out to be the universal story of how bad things turned into universal hope, the hope we found in the Baby Jesus. A miracle occurred that night before Christmas and all of a sudden I knew we were not alone any more. Now I knew there was hope and I had learned that Christmas comes in spite of all circumstances. Christmas is always within us all. Christmas came even to our village that night.

Technorati Tags: Christmas