The Sandpiper

The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

"I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

"That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"

"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.

"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."

"Hi, Wendy" She giggled. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day." The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.

"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't know. You say."

"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again.

"I don't know what that is."

"Then let's just walk."

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter.

"Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today."

She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.

"Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."

"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt?" she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-coloured hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.

"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukaemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the colour of sand -- who taught me the gift of love.

NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated; the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses. This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many and now I share it with you... May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences! Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?

I wish for you, a sandpiper.

Learn to Relax

Learn To Relax

Stop allowing yourselves to be agitated...disturbed...and unsettled. - John 14:27 AMP

A well known Bible teacher says: "We can only walk in peace if we're willing to be adaptable and adjust to people and circumstances. When I lived in 'explode mode' it never failed that one of my children would spill something at the dinner table every night...and every night I had a fit. One night I was under the table because the milk had made it to the crack in the middle and was running down...The children were upset and somebody kicked me in the head, which made me even madder. I knew it was an accident...but somehow that didn't seem to matter... [Then] the Holy Spirit spoke to me - right under that table - and said: 'Once the milk's spilled, no matter how big a fit you throw you're not going to get it to run back up the table into the glass. You need to learn to go with the flow.'"

Jesus said, "[Stop allowing yourselves to be agitated...disturbed...and unsettled]." In other words, work on controlling your reactions. Stop losing your peace over every little thing that goes wrong in your life. When there's nothing you can do about the situation, learn to let it go and keep your joy. Ask God to help you get over life's little offences and irritations quickly, whether it's a glass of spilled milk or somebody who's hurt your feelings.

When you put as much energy into 'letting go' as you do into 'stewing and steaming' and trying to control every possible outcome, you'll find that God's peace "which is so great we cannot understand it" (Php 4:7 NCV) will start to fill your heart and your home.

(Ref: Word for Today, New Zealand)

Just thought this is an interesting perspective - life happens, and reacting negatively ain't gonna change it. I found this quite inspiring, I hope you do, too! :-)

Regards,

M.

A Year in the Life Of

Hi, there

I'm not sure if you remember but there used to be a program on TV (we're talking years ago...:-) called A Year in the Life Of, starring Sarah Jessica Parker (way before Sex and the City). Anyway, I was chatting a friend of mine this morning about how different her life is from a year ago (her life has taken a 180 degree turn) and then started wondering where my life would be in a year from now. Doing pretty much the same thing as now - or completely different??? Where do you think you'll be a year from now and where do you hope to be?

Interesting...

Regards,
M.

22 Startling Predictions

************************************

21 Startling predictions

************************************

"I don’t set trends. I just find out what they are and exploit them."- Dick Clark

As I look ahead to the rest of 2008, I can see one major trend. And it’s one that will have repercussions for the economy as a whole. That trend involves baby boomers. Boomers have been a major factor in consumer spending, saving, and investing for 50 years. So it’s likely they will continue to be. In fact, they will probably affect the economy for the rest of their lives - for the next 20 to 25 years.

If you accept this premise, the following 22 predictions may make sense to you:

1. Baby boomers will get poorer this year. They lost half of their retirement nest egg when the tech bubble exploded. And they have been losing much of the rest of it as property prices come down. This will continue in 2008. Credit will be harder to come by. Banks will get tougher with loans.

2. Scared by their shrinking wealth, some boomers will make one final, frenzied attempt to "get back" the wealth they never really had. They’ll scrape together their last rands. They’ll borrow money. And they’ll use it to make high-risk, leveraged financial investments in such things as currencies and commodities. The greediest sectors of the financial services industry will benefit, temporarily, from this short-term trend. Later, they will suffer from it as their customers disappear.

3. As 2008 ends, boomers’ speculative investments will fail to rescue them. So they will grudgingly accept the fact that they will never be as wealthy as they wanted to be. They will feel defeated, and they won’t have the energy to start anew. As a result, they will drastically decrease their discretionary spending.

4. Following the boomers’ lead, consumer spending in general will slow down. Growth will slow. Businesses will continue to go bankrupt at record rates.

5. With decreasing revenues on one side and increasing fixed costs (related to property) on the other, retail will be especially hard hit. Many, if not most, medium-sized retail businesses that exist today will be defunct within 10 years.

6. On the bright side, Internet spending will continue to grow. But the growth will be much slower than in the past. Lots of opportunities will allow people to make money by marketing products and services on the Internet. But many of those who are in business today will go bankrupt as the market becomes more competitive.

7. Multi-million rand homes will tumble in value, even below current prices. Many will be left vacant. It will take at least seven years for many of the properties that have been built in the past two years to be occupied. Investors in these properties will be wiped out.

8. More than 80% of the existing property development industry will go bankrupt.

9. Following real estate development will be the larger part of the banking and financial services industry. Thousands of young investment bankers and hedge fund managers will be out of work. This could happen as early as the middle of next year.

10. As the U.S. and S.A. economy slides into a protracted recession, baby boomers will recognise that they are poorer than their parents were when their parents were in their early sixties. Without the appreciation of a house to cash in on, they will give up their long-held dreams of retiring comfortably at 65.

11. Luxury will be uncool. Understated elegance will be in.

12. The campaign against conspicuous consumption will accelerate. Twelve-cylinder cars will be ridiculed and possibly outlawed entirely.

13. Hippie values will return. Peace and love and blue jeans will prevail… simply because baby boomers won’t be able to afford to indulge themselves materialistically as they have been doing for 40 years.

14. Technology and the baby boomers’ shrinking wealth will favour products that are simple and small.

15. The wristwatch will begin a 20-year disappearing act.

16. Yoga, meditation, and pilates will continue to increase in popularity. Aerobics, weight training and kickboxing will diminish.

17. Yachts, luxury automobiles, and Learjets will stand in warehouses, unused.

18. Technical jobs will continue to be outsourced overseas. And in the U.S., boomers will start to agree to work phones and read X-rays for minimum wage.

19. The information-publishing industry - particularly the specialised information-publishing industry - will continue to grow, outpacing the general economy. Entrepreneurs who understand the difference between information, advice and opinion will make fortunes.

20. Direct marketing will continue to grow as general advertising declines. Businesses that are unskilled at direct marketing will have a tough time staying competitive. Many will fail.

21. Boomers will "decide" to continue working during their retirement years. But many of them - lacking the skills to contribute to the Internet, information-publishing, or direct-marketing industries - will go unemployed. Those are my predictions for the rest of the year and beyond. But what good are such predictions? Can they make you any money? I don’t know. I do know a few things about investing in trends, though. Lessons I’ve learned from a lifetime of starting all sorts of businesses. For example: You can make the biggest money on a new trend that emerges quickly and grows strongly… if you get in early. It’s difficult to predict new trends with precision. You can sometimes see that a certain change is inevitable, but it is often difficult to know when it will happen. Usually, it happens later than you expect.

For any given day or week or month, chances are good - some studies say 70% - that things will remain the same the following day or week or month. That’s why it doesn’t usually pay to play trends in the stock market. Unless, that is, you know what you’re doing or are getting good advice from someone who does. The sensible way to invest in trends is to buy into good businesses that provide neutral or positive cash flow. That gives you a Plan B. You can sit out short-term fluctuations while you wait for the long-term trend to take hold. If I am right about the future for baby boomers, it won’t be the end of the financial world. People who are smart enough to put their time and money into developing industries (such as direct-marketing, information-publishing, and Internet-related businesses) will do well.

Just Three Steps...

Morning,

I came across this article, which really simplifies the concept of business. Yes, we all know its not that easy, and there is a lot of work involved to make it successful, BUT this is a start. And maybe, if you've been wanting to start your own business, this will be the encouragement you need to get there (if that is the right decision for you to make...)

Anyway, happy reading.

Regards,

M.

***********************************

You’re just 3 steps away from your new business - by Paul Lawrence

************************************

"Man is always more than he can know of himself; consequently, his accomplishments, time and again, will come as a surprise to him."- Golo Mann

I’m willing to bet that one goal you have for this year is to become wealthier than you are right now. If you’ve been paying attention to Michael Masterson’s advice, you know that means starting your own business - which, says Michael, is " one of the best (or possibly the best) ways of growing wealthy."

Well, what’s stopping you? Starting your own business may sound like an overwhelming task - but, like every worthwhile goal, it can be broken down into manageable parts. In fact, I’m going to show you how to do it in three simple steps. The important thing is to take action. Instead of just dreaming about starting your own business, do it! Don’t worry about the details, just come up with a sensible overall plan and get your business off the ground. You can go back and fine-tune it later. As Michael says, "Ready, Fire, Aim." I have helped start dozens of small businesses. And all of them were the result of combining Michael’s Ready, Fire, Aim philosophy with my own three-step approach.

Here’s how it works…

Step 1. Identify something that people want and will pay for. One of the most common stumbling blocks for aspiring entrepreneurs is deciding on a product or service to market. The primary consideration is to choose something that people will buy. And the easiest way to do that is to go with something that other people are already selling successfully. Ideally, that will be something you love and/or know a lot about. For instance, if you’re an accountant, you could create and sell programmes about how people can prepare their taxes, how they can make a household budget, and how they can find hidden tax deductions. Or, if you’ve always loved animals, you could sell pet toys, treats, and accessories. If you have trouble coming up with a likely product or service based on your own interests and/or expertise, choose a relatively simple service that’s in high demand. A house cleaning service, for example, or bookkeeping, lawn mowing, resume writing, or house painting. The possibilities are almost endless.

Step 2. Find a way to supply it. This step just requires a bit of business common sense. If you’re selling a service, you would either supply the service yourself or hire someone else to do it (or help you). If, for example, you’ve decided to go into the moving business, you don’t have to be capable of handling furniture yourself. Simply hire a few people who can do heavy lifting and either buy or rent a truck. If you’re selling a product, you would ideally seek out suppliers that can provide you with merchandise at a low enough price for you to be able to make a profit. But that usually means buying in volume - which may not work for you when you’re just starting out. Let’s say you’d like to sell bookshelves. In this case, it might make more sense for you to get your business going by buying the lumber and building the shelves yourself (or hiring someone to build them for you).

Step 3. Sell it to the people who want it. I’m a big believer in direct marketing for small start-up businesses. It’s a relatively inexpensive way to get your marketing message to prospective customers via e-mail, regular mail, ads in local papers, or even flyers distributed door to door.

Let’s say you want to start a housekeeping service. You’d identify a few affluent neighbourhoods where the homeowners could, presumably, afford maids. Then you’d target them with either flyers or small mailers. Or suppose you want to start a business where you take people on charter fishing boat trips. You’ll be marketing primarily to tourists, so you’d work on getting yourself listed in local tourist guides and maybe advertise on a few bus benches in your city’s hotel district. If you decide to go after locals too, you could contact local fishing clubs and see if you can rent their membership lists to do a mailing. You might also make a deal with local bait shops to distribute your flyers. Obviously, starting and running a successful business requires time, energy, and effort. Still, when you break down the process, it’s just three simple steps:

1. Identify something that people want and will pay for.

2. Find a way to supply it.

3. Sell it to the people who want it.

If you really want to run your own business, it’s time to take action. Just think - by this time next year, you could be living your dream. But if you’re the kind of person who finds it hard to come up with a great idea – look below (this newsletter will do the hard work for you).

Everything must go!

EVERYTHING MUST GO!
Up to 50% off selected items until the end of March 2008! EVERYTHING MUST GO!!! Log onto www.easterngifts.co.za to view!
Regards,
M.

A Teenager's View of Heaven

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote…" It also was the last. Brian Moore died May 27 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.