December 2008

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 15

I couldn’t post inspirational type stories this Christmas season without posting (one of the most forwarded stories of all time). it’s nice story that has been made into a movie.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Christmas Shoes
If you’d like to rent the movie, you can get it from the Red Box or any video rental story. Here’s the link: The Christmas Shoes

It was only five days before Christmas. The spirit of the season hadn’t yet caught up with me, even though cars packed the parking lot of our Houston area Target Shopping Center. Inside the store, it was worse. Shopping carts and last minute shoppers jammed the aisles. Why did I come today? I wondered. My feet ached almost as much as my head.

My list contained names of several people who claimed they wanted nothing but I knew their feelings would be hurt if I didn’t buy them anything. Buying for someone who had everything and deploring the high cost of items, I considered gift-buying anything but fun. Hurriedly, I filled my shopping cart with last minute items and proceeded to the long checkout lines. I picked the shortest but it looked as if it would mean at least a 20 minute wait.

In front of me were two small children – a boy of about 10 and a younger girl about 5. The boy wore a ragged coat. Enormously large, tattered tennis shoes jutted far out in front of his much too short jeans. He clutched several crumpled dollar bills in his grimy hands. The girl’s clothing resembled her brother’s. Her head was a matted mass of curly hair. Reminders of an evening meal showed on her small face. She carried a beautiful pair of shiny, gold house slippers. As the Christmas music sounded in the store’s stereo system, the girl hummed along off-key but happily.

When we finally approached the checkout register, the girl carefully placed the shoes on the counter. She treated them as though they were a treasure. The clerk rang up the bill. “That will be $6.09,” she said.

The boy laid his crumpled dollars atop the stand while he searched his pockets. He finally came up with $3.12. “I guess we will have to put them back, ” he bravely said. “We will come back some other time, maybe tomorrow.”

With that statement, a soft sob broke from the little girl. “But Jesus would have loved these shoes, ” she cried.

“Well, we’ll go home and work some more. Don’t cry. We’ll come back,” he said.

Quickly I handed $3.00 to the cashier. These children had waited in line for a long time. And, after all, it was Christmas. Suddenly a pair of arms came around me and a small voice said, “Thank you Sir.”

“What did you mean when you said Jesus would like the shoes?” I asked. The small boy answered, “Our mommy is sick and going to heaven. Daddy said she might go before Christmas to be with Jesus.”

The girl spoke, “My Sunday school teacher said the streets in heaven are shiny gold, just like these shoes. Won’t mommy be beautiful walking on those streets to match these shoes?”

My eyes flooded as I looked into her tear streaked face. “Yes” I answered, “I am sure she will.”

Silently I thanked God for using these children to remind me of the true spirit of giving.”

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 14

I love Christmas, even the commercialization of it all. Not really for the materialistic aspect of it, but rather the great childhood memories it all brings back for me. The Christmas trees for sale in empty corner lots, the Christmas decorations, the music, the hustle and bustle of shoppers, sitting in Santa’s lap at the mall and telling him what I wanted… Just all of it really! Sure it’s commercialized to the hilt, but all those childhood memories, still makes me smile today. Also, I can’t forget the time I spent with family opening up my presents, and the laughter and smiles from EVERYBODY who was opening their presents.

Now that I’m a new father, I really want my daughter to have some great Christmas memories of her own. But at the same time, somehow, I want to make her Christmas memories a little “more”… a little “bigger” - I guess you can say. I’ve thought about starting a tradition, I think with the story below…… I’ve found the “more” and “bigger”. A tradition that my little girl could grow up with “biggest” of memories about.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Christmas Envelope
This is a great story. The message which can have more of impact than you can imagine.

It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas-oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it-overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma-the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. You could tell their families didn’t have much money…These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.”

Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That’s when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition-one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn’t end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

May we all remember the Christmas spirit this year and always.

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 13

The story below is a 100% true story. It’s a story detailing the first week of life for a set of twins. One twin was not expected to live. The nurse decided that she needed to break a hospital rule…

This article originally appeared the Worcester Telegram & Gazette. This story has also been featured in Reader’s Digest.

Don’t forget to embrace the ones you love – often.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

A Sister’s Loving Touch - The Rescuing Hug
This shows you exactly the healing power of human touch can have

Heidi and Paul Jackson’s twin girls, Brielle and Kyrie, were born October 17, 1995, 12 weeks ahead of their due date. Standard hospital practice is to place preemie twins in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. that was done for the Jackson girls in the neonatal intensive care unit at The Medical Center of Central Massachusetts in Worcester.

Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds, three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly sleeping her newborn days away. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, couldn’t keep up with her. She had breathing and heart-rate problems. The oxygen level in her blood was low, and her weight gain was slow.

Suddenly, on November 12, Brielle went into critical condition. She began gasping for breath, and her face and stick-thin arms and legs turned bluish-gray. Her heart rate was way up, and she got hiccups, a dangerous sign that her body was under stress. Her parents watched, terrified that she might die.

Nurse Gayle Kasparian tried everything she could think of to stabilize Brielle. She suctioned her breathing passages and turned up the oxygen flow to the incubator. Still Brielle squirmed and fussed as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared.

Then Kasparian remembered something she had heard from a colleague. It was a procedure, common in parts of Europe but almost unheard of in this country, that called for double-bedding multiple-birth babies, especially preemies.

Kasparian’s nurse manager, Susan Fitzback, was away at a conference, and the arrangement was unorthodox. But Kasparian decided to take the risk.

“Let me just try putting Brielle in with her sister to see if that helps,” she said to the alarmed parents. “I don’t know what else to do.”

The Jacksons quickly gave the go-ahead, and Kasparian slipped the squirming baby into the incubator holding the sister she hadn’t seen since birth. Then Kasparian and the Jacksons watched.

No sooner had the door of the incubator closed then Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie – and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle’s blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling.

By coincidence, the conference Fitzback was attending included a presentation on double-bedding. This is something I want to see happen at The Medical Center, she thought. But it might be hard making the change. On her return she was doing rounds when the nurse caring for the twins that morning said, “Sue, take a look in that isolette over there.”

“I can’t believe this,” Fitzback said. “This is so beautiful.”

“You mean, we can do it?” asked the nurse.

“Of course we can,” Fitzback replied.

Today a handful of institutions around the country are adopting double-bedding, which seems to reduce the number of hospital days. The practice is growing quickly, even though the first scientific studies on it didn’t begin until this past January.

But Heidi and Paul Jackson don’t need any studies to know that double-bedding helped Brielle. She is thriving. In fact, now that the two girls are home, they still steep together – and still snuggle.

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 12

This is a great story that I’ve seen on many websites. Makes you stop and think what you can accomplish.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Father’s Eyes

Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion, shares a moving story about a skinny young boy who loved football with all his heart. Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But being half the size of the other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever played.

This teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the son was always on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game.

This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to encourage him but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he didn’t want to.

But the young man loved football and decided to hang in there He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps he’d get to play when he became a senior. All through high school he never missed a practice nor a game but remained a bench-warmer all four years.

His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.

When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team as a “walk-on.” Everyone was sure he could never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster because he always puts his heart and soul to every practice, and at the same time, provided the other members with the spirit and

hustle they badly needed.

The news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and was sent season tickets for all the college games.

This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in a game. It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field shortly before the big playoff game, the coach met him with a

telegram.

The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent. Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, “My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?” The coach put his arm gently around his shoulder and said, “Take the rest of the week off, son. And don’t even plan to come back to the game on Saturday.”

Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well. In the third quarter, when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful teammate back so soon. “Coach, please let me play. I’ve just got to play today,” said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close playoff game. But the young man persisted, and finally feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. “All right,” he said. “You can go in.”

Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked, and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown.

The fans broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you never heard. Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that this young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone The coach came to him and said,”Kid, I can’t believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?”

He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said, “Well, you knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?” The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, “Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to make him proud”.

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 11

Here’s a nice story about young man who takes in pride in his work.

Merry Christmas!

Something For Stevie

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn’t sure I wanted one. I wasn’t sure how my customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Down syndrome. I wasn’t worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don’t generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded “truckstop germ;” the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truckstop waitress wants to be flirted with.

I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn’t have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truckstop mascot. After that, I really didn’t care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was convincing him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus the dishes and glasses onto cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truckstop. Their social worker, which stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was the probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.

That’s why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Down syndrome often had heart problems at a early age so this wasn’t unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.

He grinned. “OK, Frannie, what was that all about?” he asked. “We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.” “I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?” Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie’s surgery, then sighed. “Yeah, I’m glad he is going to be OK,” she said, “but I don’t know how he and his mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they’re barely getting by as it is.” Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.

Since I hadn’t had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn’t want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do. After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand a funny look on her face.

“What’s up?” I asked. “I didn’t get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,” she said, “This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.”

She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed “Something For Stevie”. “Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,” she said, “so I told him about Stevie and his mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.” She handed me another paper napkin that had “Something For Stevie” scrawled
on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply “truckers.”

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he’s been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn’t matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

“Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,” I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. “Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me.”

I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession.

We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.

“First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,” I said. I tried to sound stern.

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had “Something for Stevie” printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.

I turned to his mother. “There’s more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what’s funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired.

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 10

This story is short on paragraphs, but long on message. You know, sometimes, “less is more”.

By the way… MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Ice Cream Prayer
I don’t know if this is true, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it is. Children can suprise you over and over and over

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 good. God is great. Thank you 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 a 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 saying a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman that made the remark. 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.”

Merry Christmas From Waco! Inspirational Story 9

I know this is a website about real estate and Waco. I’m not taking the time off, I just like getting into the Christmas spirit. I’m the type of person that really enjoys Christmas time.  Don’t get me wrong, I like presents as much as the next person, but what do I really like about this time of year? It seems that people are a little more giving. Not because they feel they have to, but because they want to. It’s the goodwill toward others that I enjoy the most.

With so many people giving a little more, I’m amazed at how many “miracles” do happen (during the Christmas season). I’m not talking about a person who all of sudden is cured from a rare disease and can walk at of the hospital. I’m talking about the everyday differences some of the smallest gestures can make. The impact that people can have on one another - for the good.

It’s so easy to get wrapped up in our own lives and our own problems. It’s nice to see when someone can put their own priorities aside, for even a minute, and help someone else with their own. Whether its’ helping an old man carry a heavy bag to his car, helping that mother of 3 (in front of you in the line at the store) who is $8 short on the grocery bill, or helping and old lady who has a flat tire…

By the way… MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Circle of Kindness
Whenever I get an inspiration type story in my email, I usually don’t forward it, but I do save it. This is one of those

You know, he almost didn’t see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt.

It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan.”

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Bryan added “…and think of me”.

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor. It didn’t ring much.

Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude.

The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.

After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on the napkin under which was 4 $100 bills. There were tearsin her eyes when she read what the lady wrote. It said “You don’t owe me anything, I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do… Don’t let this chain of kindness end with you.” Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day.

That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s gonna be all right; I love you, Bryan.”

Larry Stewart – The Original Secret Santa

If you haven’t heard the story of Larry Stewart, then you’ve been missing out. Larry Stewart, regarded by many, as THE “Secret Santa”. This post is a summary of an article that appeared in USA Today.

This story is 100% completely true, just Google his name and you’ll come across hundreds of websites and news stories talking about this man, not to mention the Wikipedia page about him.

In short, Larry Stewart is an angel to many and his story to most, inspirational. For 27 years, Larry Stewart handed out thousands of dollars each Christmas season. Cash to those that looked like they could use a little extra help. People on the street, in restaurants, stores, bus stations, or wherever.

When Larry Stewart handed out money (usually in the form of $100 dollar bills), he did it anonymously. After he would give cash to someone that looked like they could use it, he’d then quietly disappear. For years no one knew the identity of this Secret Santa.

The USA Today profiled his story in 2001, but did not publish his name. Only recently did we learn that Secret Santa was in fact Larry Stewart from Kansas City, MO. Apparently, the Enquirer was set to report the identity of Secret Santa so Larry decided to come forward before the famous tabloid could break the news.

That’s just the beginning of the story:

Over the 27 year period that Secret Santa handed out money (1979-2006), it’s been estimated that the total given away is about 1.3 million dollars. Larry says that he’s been rewarded in return… “I see the smiles and looks of hopelessness turn to looks of hope in an instant,” he says. “After all, isn’t that what we were put here on Earth for – to help one another?”

Larry Stewart wasn’t always a wealthy man. As a matter fact, in the Winter of 1971 Larry found himself out of work when the company he worked for as a door to door salesman went out of business. He quickly ran out of money and hadn’t eaten for almost two days.

He decided that he was going to go to a restaurant, order food, then act like he lost his wallet when the bill came. Larry went to the Dixie Diner and ordered a hot meal and sure enough, when the bill came Larry started “looking for his wallet”. The owner of that diner, Ted Horn (who was also the waiter and cook), came over to the stool where Larry had been sitting and handed him a $20 bill and said “Son, you must have dropped this”.

After Larry left the diner, he realized that no one had dropped that money. The owner of that diner, Ted Horn, had helped him out in such a way as not to embarrass him. Right at that moment Larry made himself a promise. Larry was deeply touched. He said “Lord, if you ever put me in a position to help people, I will do it.”

A few years later, Larry made money, a lot of money, in the cable television and long distance business. He found himself in a position to keep that promise he made in 1971.

Larry started to help the less fortunate in 1979. He went to a drive-in and ordered hamburger and soft drink. He handed the car hop a $20 and told her to keep the change. The car hop was stunned. She said “You’re kidding!”. Larry said “No ma’am. Merry Christmas.” The car hop started crying and told Larry that he had no idea what that meant to her. And so started Larry’s trek as Secret Santa.

Larry Stewart didn’t receive tax breaks for handing out that money. His criteria? Not that strict. He’d just walk up to people in the street that looked like could use a little extra help that Christmas season and give them money. He’d find people in laundromats, pawn-shops, thrift stores, homeless shelters, bus stops, etc…

Lary Stewart passed away in January 2007 at the age of 58. His legacy lives on through others that have taken up the cause of “Secret Santa”: Secret Santa Website

One final note though, about 7 years before he died, Larry was able to track down the owner/waiter/cook of that diner he visited that fateful day in 1971. The diner owner was living in Tupelo, Miss. Larry handed Ted Horn an envelope with $10,000 in it. Horn said “You don’t have to do this.” and tried giving the money back to Larry. Larry told him to please keep the envelope. He said “I’ve come to pay you back.”

Isn’t just amazing how many angels don’t have wings?

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 8

This isn’t as much of an inspirational story as it is a “lesson learned”. But nevertheless, the message is good!

By the way… MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Brick and the Jaguar

About ten years ago, a young and very successful executive named Josh was traveling down a Chicago neighborhood street. He was going a bit too fast in his sleek, black, 12 cylinder Jaguar XKE, which was only two months old. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something.

As his car passed, no child darted out, but a brick sailed out and — WHUMP! — it smashed into the Jag’s shiny black side door! SCREECH…!!!! Brakes slammed! Gears ground into reverse, and tires madly spun the Jaguar back to the spot from where the brick had been thrown. Josh jumped out of the car, grabbed the kid and pushed him up against a parked car.

He shouted at the kid, “What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing?!” Building up a head of steam, he went on. “That’s my new Jag, that brick you threw is gonna cost you a lot of money. Why did you throw it?”

“Please, mister, please…I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do!” pleaded the youngster. “I threw the brick because no one else would stop!” Tears were dripping down the boy’s chin as he pointed around the parked car. “It’s my brother, mister,” he said. “He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.” Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, “Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.”

Moved beyond words, the young executive tried desperately to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. Straining, he lifted the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checking to see that everything was going to be OK. He then watched the younger brother push him down the sidewalk toward their home.

It was a long walk back to the sleek, black, shining, 12 cylinder Jaguar XKE — a long and slow walk. Now, Josh never did fix the side door of his Jaguar.

He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at him to get his attention.

Merry Christmas from Waco! Inspirational Story 7

I just got this story emailed to this evening from someone who was reading my blog. It’s a rather short story and I had completely forgotten about it. I’ve seen this a few times over the years, but it’s a good one.

Oh by the way… MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Little Brother

There was a family that was experiencing a small tragedy. One of their two sons had acquired an illness that required a marrow transplant. Of course, the medical personell had all the family members tested to see who had the proper type of blood. It turned out the older brother of the sick boy was the perfect match. So the father sat the older brother down and told what they needed to do in simplest terms for the young boy. The father told him that his little brother was very very sick and that he needed to show his little brother how much he loved him by having surgery. The doctors need to take a little piece of him and put it in his little brother’s body so that he doesn’t die. The young boy thought about it for a couple seconds, and then he said he would do it.

So the older brother went through surgery. it was a success, and his little brother was recovering quickly. After the relief and joy passed over and the family was just sitting around relaxing, the father noticed his older son looking a little down and depressed. He took his son aside and asked him why he wasn’t happy- his brother was getting better. His son said that he was very glad that his brother was getting better. So the father asked again, why are you so sad? The boy said, “When is it time for me to die?”

That’s when the father realized what the boy actually had on his mind. His older son believed in his heart of hearts that he had to give up his own life so that his little brother who he loved could live.

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