Helen Savage — growtoprosper.com

Awakened by the phone ringing at 11:35 p.m., I fumble for the receiver beside my bed. Who would be calling at this time of night?

“Hello,” I mumble, my brain barely functioning.

“Mom, I’m not in jail.” The voice at the other end belongs to my 21-year-old daughter, Rachel.

“What?” My heart is beginning to race and my imagination is running away with me. It’s amazing how quickly those words fully awaken me.

“I’m not actually in jail,” my daughter continues. “I’m fine. It’s my car.”

“What’s the matter?” I ask, trying to make sense of what I am hearing.

“My car was impounded. I found out that since it’s registered in your name, you have to be the one to get it out.” There is a sense of urgency in her voice.

“At this hour of the night?”

I knew earlier in the day that her car had been missing. She assumed it had been towed and was trying to locate it. Now she is calling from the city impoundment lot that closed at midnight, (or so I thought.) It’s located in the industrial area of a city of 900,000 people. I’m not at all familiar with that part of the city and I avoid it even in daylight. Travel there alone at night? Certainly not.

I awaken my husband, explaining the situation. Fortunately his concern for our daughter wins out over his anger at being awakened.

After driving down the freeway, we wind our way down the darkened streets in the industrial area of the city. The world is eerily silent except for an occasional passing car.

“I hope some day that she will believe the signs she reads,” I say wistfully. “She parked in the half-empty parking lot of an apartment building to visit a friend this morning and ended up staying for three hours. She ignored the sign that said ‘unauthorized vehicles will be towed at the owner’s expense.’”

A university student, Rachel had a penchant for parking in unauthorized places in the cramped lots at school, and had already collected her share of parking tickets. However, this is her first towing experience.

When we arrive at the impoundment lot, Rachel and her room-mate are waiting for us and are in a good mood. In fact, she gets me laughing too. The woman at the desk stares at us in disbelief. No doubt she had seen a good many confrontations between angry parents and children in similar situations – or has dealt with angry car owners coming to claim their cars. No doubt laughter in her office is an extremely rare thing.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask.

“It was a choice between crying and laughing,” Rachel says. “I choose to laugh.”

“And why did you wait until 11:30 to pick up your car?” I ask.

She explains that although she had gotten off work at 8 p.m., she had chosen to watch her favorite T.V. program at 10 p.m. as a way to “de-stress” before she and her friend left to pick up her car.

All it takes is my husband’s driver’s license for identification, and she is free to take her 1991 Chevy Sprint rust bucket home. She still has a hefty fee to pay, but that’s now her problem.

As my husband and I drive home, a little short of sleep, I think of other parents who get phone calls in the night from their children – who really are in jail, or from police reporting that their child was in an accident, or worse. I silently breathe a prayer of “thanks” to the Lord that our daughter is safe.

A “jailed” car is trivial in comparison to other things that could have happened. So many things in life are irritating, annoying, and inconvenient at the time, but are of no lasting consequences. I think my daughter’s philosophy is a good one. I, too, choose to laugh.

Janet Seever

It’s a wise custom to end an old year and begin a new one with serious self-reflection. What did you learn this year that could improve your life and make you a wiser and better person?

If you want to have a successful and fulfilling New year, start by examining the way you think and feel about your job, your relationships, and yourself. After all, the single most important factor in personal happiness and your impact on others is your attitude.

In the geometry of life, the axiom is “positive attitudes produce positive results.” They make success more likely, failures less harmful, pleasures more frequent, and pain more bearable. Some people tend to bring warm sunshine wherever they go; others bring cold chills. What do you bring?

To find out where you can improve, take an inventory of your predispositions, the attitude you’re most likely to start with:

Are you generally optimistic or pessimistic?

Do you tend to assume the best or expect the worst of people?

Is your first instinct to be empathetic or judgmental?

Is your first instinct to be supportive or critical?

Do you send the message that you enjoy life or that you’re barely enduring it?

Do you come across as the captain of your own ship or simply a passenger?

Wherever you are on the positive-attitude spectrum, think how much better things could be if you were more consistently and self-consciously optimistic, empathetic, supportive, grateful, enthusiastic, hopeful, and cheerful.

So why not resolve to think, act, and speak more positively about yourself, your family, your coworkers, and everyone else in your life?

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Michael Josephson

In December 1999, 21 months after my first book, Unstoppable was published, my husband of 20 years and I separated. We had met in college and I fully intended to be married to him for the rest of my life. For those of you who have experienced this type of loss, you know how difficult and painful it can be.

That year, my husband had intended on joining me and my son for the holidays at my parent’s house in Florida and now, we would be going alone. The first few days at my parent’s house were excruciating. I was in great pain and had momentarily lost my hope for a happy future. After a few days of feeling sorry for myself, I realized that I couldn’t control what was happening. The only thing I could control was my response to my circumstances. In that moment, I vowed that next Christmas, I would not be feeling sorry for myself at my parent’s house. I would dedicate myself to doing something for someone else.

When I got home, I called my mentor and friend, Millard Fuller, the founder of Habitat for Humanity International (HFH) who I had met when I interviewed him to be in my book. He told me that when you have a great pain in your life, you need a greater purpose and encouraged me that building a house for a family in need might be a great project.

Millard had just returned from a trip to Nepal, one of the poorest nations in the world. Following Millard’s advice, I asked myself the question, “How many houses would I need to build to offset this pain in my life? When I got to the number of 100 – that felt bigger than my pain.

I had never been to Nepal, I’d never raised money for a project such as this before, and I had no idea how I would pull it off, but having that purpose invigorated me and most importantly, it kept my mind off of myself and my “problems.” Even though there were many times when I felt so depressed I didn’t even want to get out of bed, I’d think about these Nepalese families who didn’t have a simple decent place to sleep at night. That put my life back in perspective and I continued to move forward.

By December 2000, I had raised $200,000 and took a team of 20 people to Nepal and we built the first three of the 100 houses in that project. One of the homes was for a single woman named Chandra who was supporting seven other family members including her parents, brothers and sisters. They had all been living in a small one bedroom shack. Even though she consistently saved money every week from her job at a cookie factory, it would never have been enough to build a home without the help of HFH.

Even though we didn’t speak the same language, Chandra and I connected. When it was time for us to leave, she began to cry and said, “Please don’t ever forget me.” I thought, “How could I forget you? You were the purpose that kept me going through the most difficult year of my life.”

That experience was truly one of the most transformational experiences in my life and was the first time that I personally experienced the power of giving. What was even more interesting is during that year, I made more money than I ever made in my life even though that was not my primary intention.

I believe this story represents the essence of the law of giving and receiving. You don’t need to be experiencing pain or loss to feel the immense rewards of helping others. You also don’t need to set out to build 100 homes. Start small; start with helping to provide clean water for a child or a school lunch for children who are going without.

The scriptures say, “Give and it shall be given unto you.” It doesn’t say wait until your life is working and then give or wait until you feel you have something to give before you give. It simply says GIVE. You don’t need to know how it will all work out, you only need to have faith that when you are committed, you will be supported. As you connect with a Divine calling that is bigger than yourself, miracles await you.

Cynthia Kersey
Chief Humanitarian Officer, Unstoppable Foundation

Today I will make a difference. I will begin by controlling my thoughts. A person is the product of his thoughts. I want to be happy and hopeful. Therefore, I will have thoughts that are happy and hopeful. I refuse to be victimized by my circumstances. I will not let petty inconveniences such as stoplights, long lines, and traffic jams be my masters. I will avoid negativism and gossip. Optimism will be my companion, and victory will be my hallmark. Today I will make a difference.
I will be grateful for the twenty-four hours that are before me. Time is a precious commodity. I refuse to allow what little time I have to be contaminated by self-pity, anxiety, or boredom. I will face this day with the joy of a child and the courage of a giant. I will drink each minute as though it is my last. When tomorrow comes, today will be gone forever. While it is here, I will use it for loving and giving. Today I will make a difference.
I will not let past failures haunt me. Even though my life is scarred with mistakes, I refuse to rummage through my trash heap of failures. I will admit them. I will correct them. I will press on. Victoriously. No failure is fatal. It’s OK to stumble…I will get up. It’s OK to fail…I will rise again. Today I will make a difference.
I will spend time with those I love. My spouse, my children, my family. A man can own the world but be poor for the lack of love. A man can own nothing and yet be wealthy in relationships. Today I will spend at least five minutes with the significant people in my world. Five quality minutes of talking or hugging or thanking or listening. Five undiluted minutes with my mate, children, and friends.
Today I will make a difference.

Max Lucado

A wise man once sat in the
audience & cracked a joke.
All laughed like crazy. After a
moment, he cracked the same
joke again and a little less people
laughed this time.
He cracked the same joke again
& again, when there was no
laughter in the crowd, he smiled
and said, “When u can’t laugh on
the same joke again & again,
then why do u keep crying over
the same thing over and over
againh

‘Forget the past & move on’
- unknown

Steve Jobs gave this as his second story of his Commencement Address at Stanford University on June 12, 2005.

Love and Loss

I was lucky. I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation – the Macintosh – a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started?

Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn’t know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down – that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me – I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn’t see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT.

I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple’s current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I’m pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been fired from Apple.It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers.

Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking.

Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.

Steve Jobs
1955-2011

The train clanked and rattled through the suburbs of Tokyo on a drowsy spring afternoon. Our car was comparatively empty – a few housewives with their kids in tow, some old folks going shopping. I gazed absently at the drab houses and dusty hedgerows.

At one station the doors opened, and suddenly the afternoon quiet was shattered by a man bellowing violent, incomprehensible curses. The man staggered into our car. He wore laborer’s clothing, and he was big, drunk, and dirty. Screaming, he swung at a woman holding a baby. The blow sent her spinning into the laps of an elderly couple. It was a miracle that she was unharmed.

Terrified, the couple jumped up and scrambled toward the other end of the car. The laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of the old woman but missed as she scuttled to safety. This so enraged the drunk that he grabbed the metal pole in the center of the car and tried to wrench it out of its stanchion. I could see that one o f his hands was cut and bleeding. The train lurched ahead, the passengers frozen with fear. I stood up.

I was young then, some 20 years ago, and in pretty good shape. I’d been putting in a solid eight hours of aikido training nearly every day for the past three years. I like to throw and grapple. I thought I was tough. Trouble was, my martial skill was untested in actual combat. As students of aikido, we were not allowed to fight.

“Aikido,” my teacher had said again and again, “is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection with the universe. If you try to dominate people, you are already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it.”

I listened to his words. I tried hard. I even went so far as to cross the street to avoid the chimpira, the pinball punks who lounged around the train stations. My forbearance exalted me. I felt both tough and holy. In my heart, however, I wanted an absolutely legiti mate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty.

This is it! I said to myself, getting to my feet. People are in danger and if I don’t do something fast, they will probably get hurt. Seeing me stand up, the drunk recognized a chance to focus his rage.

“Aha!” He roared. “A foreigner! You need a lesson in Japanese manners!”

I held on lightly to the commuter strap overhead and gave him a slow look of disgust and dismissal. I planned to take this turkey apart, but he had to make the first move. I wanted him mad, so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss.

“All right! He hollered. “You’re gonna get a lesson.” He gathered himself for a rush at me.

A split second before he could move, someone shouted “Hey!” It was earsplitting. I remember the strangely joyous, lilting quality of it – as though you and a friend had been searching diligently for something, and he suddenly stumbled upon it.

“Hey!” I wheeled t o my left; the drunk spun to his right. We both stared down at a little old Japanese man. He must have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman, sitting there immaculate in his kimono. He took no notice of me, but beamed delightedly at the laborer, as though he had a most important, most welcome secret to share.

“C’mere,” the old man said in an easy vernacular, beckoning to the drunk. “C’mere and talk with me.”

He waved his hand lightly. The big man followed, as if on a string. He planted his feet belligerently in front of the old gentleman, and roared above the clacking wheels,

“Why the hell should I talk to you?”

The drunk now had his back to me. If his elbow moved so much as a millimeter, I’d drop him in his socks. The old man continued to beam at the laborer.

“What’cha been drinkin’?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

“I been drinkin’ sake,” the laborer bellowed back, “and it’s none of your business!” Flecks of spittle spattered the old man.

“Ok, that’s wonderful,” the old man said, “absolutely wonderful! You see, I love sake too. Every night, me and my wife (she’s 76, you know), we warm up a little bottle of sake and take it out into the garden, and we sit on an old wooden bench. We watch the sun go down, and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing.”

He looked up at the laborer, eyes twinkling. As he struggled to follow the old man’s conversation, the drunk’s face began to soften. His fists slowly unclenched.

“Yeah,” he said. “I love persimmons too.” His voice trailed off.

“Yes,” said the old man, smiling, “and I’m sure you have a wonderful wife.”

“No,” replied the laborer. “My wife died.” Very gently, swaying with the motion of the train, the big man began to sob. “I don’t got no wife, I don’t got no home, I don’t got no job. I am so ashamed of myself.” Tears rolled down his cheeks; a spasm of despair rippled through his body.

Now it was my turn. Standing there in well-scrubbed youthful innocence, my make-this-world-safe-for-democracy righteousness, I suddenly felt dirtier than he was. Then the train arrived at my stop. As the doors opened, I heard the old man cluck sympathetically.

“My, my,” he said, “that is a difficult predicament, indeed. Sit down here and tell me about it.”

I turned my head for one last look. The laborer was sprawled on the seat, his head in the old man’s lap. The old man was softly stroking the filthy, matted hair.

As the train pulled away, I sat down on a bench. What I had wanted to do with muscle had been accomplished with kind words. I had just seen aikido tried in combat, and the essence of it was love. I would have to practice the art with an entirely different spirit. It would be a long time before I could speak about the resolution of conflict.

Terry Dobson

3. Obstacles are the Stepping Stones of Success by Harvey Mackay
A man was walking in the park one day when he came upon a cocoon with a small opening. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through the little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It looked like it had gotten as far as it could, so the man decided to help the butterfly. He used his pocketknife and snipped the remaining bit of the cocoon.

The butterfly then emerged easily, but something was strange. The butterfly had a swollen body and shriveled wings. The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected at any moment the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time. Neither happened. In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and deformed wings. It was never able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to emerge were natural. It was nature’s way of forcing fluid from its body into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom. Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives.

If we were allowed to go through life without any obstacles, we would be crippled. We would not be as strong as what we could have been. And we could never fly.

History has shown us that the most celebrated winners usually encountered heartbreaking obstacles before they triumphed. They won because they refused to become discouraged by their defeats.

My good friend Lou Holtz, football coach of the University of South Carolina, once told me, “Show me someone who has done something worthwhile, and I’ll show you someone who has overcome adversity.”

Beethoven composed his greatest works after becoming deaf. George Washington was snowed in through a treacherous winter at Valley Forge. Abraham Lincoln was raised in poverty. Albert Einstein was called a slow learner, retarded and uneducable. If Christopher Columbus had turned back, no one could have blamed him, considering the constant adversity he endured.

As an elementary student, actor James Earl Jones (a.k.a. Darth Vader) stuttered so badly he communicated with friends and teachers using written notes.

Itzhak Perlman, the incomparable concert violinist, was born to parents who survived a Nazi concentration camp and has been paralyzed from the waist down since the age of four.

Chester Carlson, a young inventor, took his idea to 20 big corporations in the 1940s. After seven years of rejections, he was able to persuade Haloid, a small company in Rochester, N.Y., to purchase the rights to his electrostatic paper-copying process. Haloid has since become Xerox Corporation.

Thomas Edison tried over 2,000 experiments before he was able to get his light bulb to work. Upon being asked how he felt about failing so many times, he replied, “I never failed once. I invented the light bulb. It just happened to be a 2,000-step process.”

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, elected president of the United States for four terms, had been stricken with polio at the age of 39.

Persistence paid off for General Douglas MacArthur. After applying for admission to West Point twice, he applied a third time and was accepted. The rest is history.

In 1927 the head instructor of the John Murray Anderson Drama School instructed student Lucille Ball to “Try any other profession. Any other.”

Buddy Holly was fired from the Decca record label in 1956 by Paul Cohen, Nashville “Artists and Repertoire Man.” Cohen called Holly “the biggest no-talent I ever worked with.”

Academy Award-winning writer, producer and director Woody Allen failed motion picture production at New York University (NYU) and City College of New York. He also flunked English at NYU.

Helen Keller, the famous blind author and speaker, said: “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved. Silver is purified in fire and so are we. It is in the most trying times that our real character is shaped and revealed.”

Mackay’s Moral: There is no education like the university of adversity.

It’s Not Easy
Let’s be honest. Ethics is not for wimps.
It’s not easy being a good person.
It’s not easy to be honest when it might be costly, to play fair when others cheat, or to keep inconvenient promises.
It’s not easy to stand up for our beliefs and still respect differing viewpoints.
It’s not easy to control powerful impulses, to be accountable for our attitudes and actions, to tackle unpleasant tasks, or to sacrifice the now for later.
It’s not easy to bear criticism and learn from it without getting angry, to take advice, or to admit error.
It’s not easy to feel genuine remorse and apologize sincerely, or to accept apologies graciously and truly forgive.
It’s not easy to stop feeling like a victim, to resist cynicism, or to make the best of every situation.
It’s not easy to be consistently kind, to think of others first, to judge generously, or to give the benefit of the doubt.
It’s not easy to be grateful or to give without concern for reward or gratitude.
It’s not easy to fail and still keep trying, to learn from failure, to risk failing again, to start over, to lose with grace, or to be glad of another’s success.
It’s not easy to look at ourselves honestly and be accountable, to avoid excuses and rationalizations, or to resist temptations.
No, being a person of character isn’t easy. That’s why it’s such a lofty goal and an admirable achievement.
This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

Children of mine, so PRECIOUS TO ME,
Life is what you make it to be.
Wander through life with NO REAL AIM,
Your just reward will reap THE SAME.

Your mind is your sword of light,
To guide you through life’s darkest night.
Your DREAMS, your plans, MUST NEVER PART,
Without those two you’ll never start.

So, what is the key to unlock life’s door.
Self-discipline, like tempered steel,
Will steer your course on an even keel,
LOVE, KINDNESS, COMPASSION and JOY,
MASTER these STRENGTHS and come what may,
THE WORLD IS YOURS, to make your way.