photo credit: A. Wong Photography

Hi folks,

I’d like to ask for your help. You can help to reunite me with my parents (in South Africa), whom I haven’t seen since immigrating to New Zealand last year, and whom I miss every day.

How? By watching (and sharing) this video…

Background

The city of Napier (where we now live) is running a competition to promote themselves around the world. Each of the 56 immigrant entrants “introduced” a 2 min video detailing life in Napier. The videos are all on YouTube. The entrant with the most views by 31 Dec 2008 wins the prize.

The prize is a holiday for 2 to New Zealand. If we win, we’ll bring my parents over from South Africa for a few weeks to visit with us here.

How are we doing?

We’re coming 4th, with 1,300ish views. The leader currently has 16,000ish views.

How to help

• Watch the video. A lot
• Give the video a “thumbs up” via StumbleUpon (and review it, if you’re a user)
• Join our Facebook group for more ideas and updates
• Share the video on your Facebook and MySpace profile, or via Email

I’d be really grateful for your help, and I’ll keep the Facebook group updated with our progress.

- David

View our Napier Life video!

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I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.
I’d relax, I would limber up.
I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would take more chances.

I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I’m one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day.

Oh, I’ve had my moments,
And if I had it to do over again,
I’d have more of them.
In fact, I’d try to have nothing else.
Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.

I’ve been one of those people who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute.
If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had my life to live over,
I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
I would go to more dances.
I would ride more merry-go-rounds.
I would pick more daisies.

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: life

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photo credit: h.koppdelaney

I had not really planned on taking a trip this time of year, and yet I found myself packing rather hurriedly. This trip was going to be unpleasant and I knew in advance that no real good would come of it. I’m talking about my annual “Guilt Trip.”

I got tickets to fly there on “WISHIHAD” airlines. It was an extremely short flight. I got my baggage, which I could not check. I chose to carry it myself all the way. It was weighted down with a thousand memories of what might have been. No one greeted me as I entered the terminal to the Regret City International Airport. I say “international”, because people from all over the world come to this dismal town.

As I checked into the Last Resort Hotel, I noticed that they would be hosting the year’s most important event, the Annual Pity Party. I wasn’t going to miss that great social occasion. Many of the town’s leading citizens would be there.

First, there would be the Done family, you know, Should Have, Would Have and Could Have. Then came the I Had family. You probably know ol’ Wish and his clan. Of course, the Opportunities would be present, Missed and Lost. The biggest family would be the Yesterdays. There are far too many of them to count, but each one would have a very sad story to share.

Then Shattered Dreams would surely make an appearance. And It’s Their Fault would regale us with stories (excuses) about how things had failed in his life, and each story would be loudly applauded by Don’t Blame Me and I Couldn’t Help It.

Well, to make a long story short, I went to this depressing party, knowing that there would be no real benefit in doing so. And, as usual, I became very depressed. But as I thought about all of the stories of failures brought back from the past, it occurred to me that all of this trip and subsequent “pity party” could be cancelled by ME! I started to truly realize that I did not have to be there. I didn’t have to be depressed.

One thing kept going through my mind, I CAN’T CHANGE YESTERDAY, BUT I DO HAVE THE POWER TO MAKE TODAY A WONDERFUL DAY. I can be happy, joyous, fulfilled, encouraged, as well as encouraging. Knowing this, I left The City of Regret immediately and left no forwarding address. Am I sorry for mistakes I’ve made in the past? YES! But there is no physical way to undo them.

So, if you’re planning a trip back to The City of Regret, please cancel all your reservations now. Instead, take a trip to a place called, Starting Again. I liked it so much that I have now taken up permanent residence there. My neighbours, the I Forgive Myselfs and the New
Starts are so very helpful. By the way, you don’t have to carry around heavy baggage, because the load is lifted from your shoulders upon arrival. God bless you in finding this great town.

If you can find it, it’s in your own heart - please look me up. I live on ICANDOIT street.

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: encouragement, living, regret

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photo credit: law_keven

Mary had a little Lamb; His fleece was white as snow.
And everywhere that Mary went, The Lamb was sure to go.
He followed her to school each day, ‘Twas even in the rule.
It made the children laugh and play, to have a Lamb at school.

And then the rules all changed one day, Illegal it became;
To bring the Lamb of God to school, Or even speak His Name.
Every day got worse and worse, and days turned into years.
Instead of hearing children laugh, we heard the shots and tears.

What must we do to stop the crime, that’s in our schools today?
Let’s let the Lamb come back to school, and teach our kids to pray.

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: religion, school

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photo credit: Darkstream

I dreamed I was in heaven
Where an angel kept God’s book.
He was writing so intently
I just had to take a look.

It was not, at first, his writing
That made me stop and think
But the fluid in the bottle
That was marked eternal ink.

This ink was most amazing,
Dark black upon his blotter
But as it touched the parchment
It became as clear as water.

The angel kept on writing,
But as quickly as a wink
The words were disappearing
With that strange eternal ink.

The angel took no notice,
But kept writing on and on.
He turned each page and filled it
Till all its space was gone.

I thought he wrote to no avail,
His efforts were so vain
For he wrote a thousand pages
That he’d never read again.

And as I watched and wondered that
This awesome sight was mine,
I actually saw a word stay black
As it dried upon the line.

The angel wrote and I thought I saw
A look of satisfaction.
At last he had some print to show
For all his earnest action.

A line or two dried dark and stayed
As black as black can be,
But strangely the next paragraph
Became invisible to see.

The book was getting fuller,
The angel’s records true,
But most of it was blank, with
Just a few words coming through.

I knew there was some reason,
But as hard as I could think,
I couldn’t grasp the significance
Of that eternal ink.

The mystery burned within me,
And I finally dared to ask
The angel to explain to me
Of his amazing task.

And what I heard was frightful
As the angel turned his head.
He looked directly at me,
And this is what he said…

I know you stand and wonder
At what my writing’s worth
But God has told me to record
The lives of those on earth.

The book that I am filling
Is an accurate account
Of every word and action
And to what they do amount.

And since you have been watching
I must tell you what is true;
The details of my journal
Are the strict accounts of YOU.

The Lord asked me to watch you
As each day you worked and played.
I saw you as you went to church,
I saw you as you prayed.

But I was told to document
Your life through all the week.
I wrote when you were proud and bold,
I wrote when you were meek.

I recorded all your attitudes
Whether they were good or bad.
I was sorry that I had to write
The things that make God sad.

So now I’ll tell the wonder
Of this eternal ink,
For the reason for its mystery
Should make you stop and think.

This ink that God created
To help me keep my journal
Will only keep a record of
Things that are eternal.

So much of life is wasted
On things that matter not
So instead of my erasing,
Smudging ink and ugly blot.

I just keep writing faithfully and
Let the ink do all the rest
For it is able to decide
What’s useless and what’s best.

And God ordained that as I write
Of all you do and say
Your deeds that count for nothing
Will just disappear away.

When books are opened someday,
As sure as heaven is true;
The Lord’s eternal ink will tell
What mattered most to you.

If you just lived to please yourself
The pages will be bare,
And God will issue no reward
For you when you get there.

In fact, you’ll be embarrassed,
You will hang your head in shame
Because you did not give yourself
In love to Jesus’ Name.

Yet maybe there will be a few
Recorded lines that stayed
That showed the times you truly cared,
Sincerely loved and prayed.

But you will always wonder
As you enter heaven’s door
How much more glad you would have been
If only you’d done more.

For I record as God sees,
I don’t stop to even think
Because the truth is written
With God’s eternal ink.

When I heard the angel’s story
I fell down and wept and cried
For as yet I still was dreaming
I hadn’t really died.

And I said: O angel tell the Lord
That soon as I awake
I’ll live my life for Jesus –
I’ll do all for His dear sake.

I’ll give in full surrender;
I’ll do all He wants me to;
I’ll turn my back on self and sin
And whatever isn’t true.

And though the way seems long and rough
I promise to endure.
I’m determined to pursue the things
That are holy, clean and pure.

With Jesus as my helper,
I will win lost souls to Thee,
For I know that they will live with Christ
For all eternity.

And that’s what really matters
When my life on earth is gone
That I will stand before the Lord
And hear Him say, well done.

For is it really worth it
As my life lies at the brink?
And I realize that God keeps books
With His eternal ink.

Should all my life be focused
On things that turn to dust?
From this point on I’ll serve the Lord;
I can, I will, I must!

I will NOT send blank pages
Up to God’s majestic throne
For where that record’s going now
Is my eternal home.

I’m giving all to Jesus
I now have seen the link
For I saw an angel write my life
With God’s eternal ink.

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: angel, heaven, salvation

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photo credit: Wetsun

You can offer your ideas to others as bullets or as seeds.
You can shoot them, or sow them;
hit people in the head with them, or plant them in their hearts.

Ideas used as bullets, will kill inspiration and neutralize motivation.
Used as seeds, they take root, grow, and become reality in the life in which they are planted.

The only risk in the seed approach:
Once it grows and becomes part of those in whom it’s planted,
you probably will get no credit for originating the idea.
But if you’re willing to do without the credit…you’ll reap the harvest.

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: ideas, inspiration

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photo credit: The Wandering Angel

Just close your Eyes and open your heart,
And feel your worries and cares depart.
Just yield yourself to the Father above,
And let Him hold you secure in His love.

For life on earth grows more involved,
With endless problems that can’t be solved,
But God only asks us to do our best,
Then He will take over and finish the rest…

So when you are tired, discouraged and blue,
There is always one door that is open to you,
And that is the door to The House of Prayer,
And you’ll find God waiting to meet you there.

And The House of Prayer is no further away,
than the quiet spot where you kneel and pray.
For the heart is a temple when God is there
As we place ourselves in His loving care.

And He hears every prayer and answers each one
When we Pray in His name - Thy will be done.
The burdens that seemed too heavy to bear
Are lifted away on the Wings Of A Prayer!

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: prayer

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photo credit: WTL photos

LIFE JUST ISN’T…
Life isn’t about keeping score. It’s not about how many friends you have. Or how accepted you are. Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you’re alone.
It isn’t about who you’re dating, who you used to date, how many people you’ve dated, or if you haven’t been with anyone at all. It isn’t about who you have kissed, it’s not about sex.
It isn’t about who your family is or how much money they have. Or what kind of car you drive. Or where you Are sent to school. It’s not about how beautiful or ugly you are. Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on, Or what kind of music you listen to. It’s not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown. Or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get, how smart you are, how smart everybody else thinks you are, or how smart standardized tests say you are. It’s not about what clubs you’re in or how good you are at “your” sport. It’s not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper and seeing who will “accept the written you.”

LIFE IS…
But, life is about whom you love and whom you hurt.
It’s about whom you make happy or unhappy purposefully.
It’s about keeping or betraying trust.
It’s about friendship, used as a sanctity or a weapon.
It’s about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It’s about what judgments you pass and why. And who your judgments are spread to.
It’s about whom you’ve ignored with full control and intention.
It’s about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge.
It’s about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow, and spreading it.
But most of all, it’s about using your life to touch or poison other people’s hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone.
Only you choose the way those hearts are affected,
And those choices are what life’s all about.

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: life

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Teddy’s letter came today and now that I’ve read it, I will place it in my cedar chest with the other things that are important to my life.

“I wanted you to be the first to know.”

I smiled as I read the words he had written and my heart welled with a pride that I had no right to feel.

I have not seen Teddy Stallard since he was a student in my fifth grade class fifteen years ago. It was early in my career, and I had only been teaching for two years.

From the first day he stepped into my classroom, I disliked Teddy. Teachers (although everyone knows differently) are not supposed to have favorites in a class, but most especially are they not to show dislike for a child, any child. Nevertheless, every year there are one or two children that one cannot help but be attached to, for teachers are human, and it is human nature to like bright, pretty, intelligent people, whether they are ten years old or twenty-five. And sometimes, not too often, fortunately, there will be one or two students to whom the teacher just can’t seem to relate.

I had thought myself quite capable of handling my personal feelings along that line until Teddy walked into my life. There wasn’t a child I particularly liked that year, but Teddy was most assuredly the one I disliked. He was dirty. Not just occasionally, but all the time. His hair hung low over his ears, and he actually had to hold it out of his eyes as he wrote papers in class. (And this was before it was fashionable to do so!) Too, he had a peculiar odor about him which I could never identify. His physical faults were many, and his intellect left a lot to be desired, also. By the end of the first week I knew he was hopelessly behind the others. Not only was he behind; he was just plain slow! I began to withdraw from him immediately.

Any teacher will tell you that it’s more of a pleasure to teach a bright child. It is definitely more rewarding for one’s ego. But any teacher worth her credentials can channel work to the bright child, keeping him challenged and learning, while she puts her major effort on the slower ones. Any teacher can do this. Most teachers do it, but I didn’t, not that year. In fact, I concentrated on my best students and let the others follow along as best they could. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I took perverse pleasure in using my red pen; and each time I came to Teddy’s paper, the cross marks (and there were many) were always a little larger and a little redder than necessary.

“Poor work!” I would write with a flourish.

While I did not actually ridicule the boy, my attitude was obviously quite apparent to the class, for he quickly became the class “goat,” the outcast: the unlovable and the unloved. He knew I didn’t like him, but he didn’t. know why. Nor did I know-then or now-why I felt such an intense dislike for him. All I know is that he was a little boy no one cared about, and I made no effort on his behalf.

The days rolled by. We made it through the Fall Festival and the Thanksgiving holidays, and I continued marking happily with my red pen. As the Christmas holidays approached, I knew that Teddy would never catch up in time to be promoted to the sixth grade level. He would be a repeater. To justify myself, I went to his cumulative folder from time to time. He had very low grades for the first four years, but no grade failure. How he had made it, I didn’t know. I closed my mind to the personal remarks.

First grade: Teddy shows promise by work and attitude, but has poor home situation. Second grade: Teddy could do better. Mother terminally ill. He receives little help at home. Third grade: Teddy is a pleasant boy. Helpful, but too serious. Slow learner. Mother passed away end of the year. Fourth grade: Very slow, but well behaved. Father shows no interest. Well, they had passed him four times, but he will certainly repeat fifth grade! Do him good! I said to myself.

And then the last day before the holiday arrived. Our little tree on the reading table sported paper and popcorn chains. Many gifts were heaped underneath, waiting for the big moment. Teachers always get several gifts at Christmas, but mine that year seemed bigger and more elaborate than ever. There was not a student who had not brought me one. Each unwrapping brought squeals of delight, and the proud giver would receive effusive thank-yous.

His gift wasn’t the last one I picked up; in fact it was in the middle of the pile. Its wrapping was a brown paper bag, and he had colored Christmas trees and red bells all over it. It was stuck together with masking tape. “For Miss Thompson, from Teddy” it read. The group was completely silent and for the first time I felt conspicuous, embarrassed because they all stood watching me unwrap the gift. As I removed the last bit of masking tape, two items fell to my desk: a gaudy rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing and a small bottle of dime-store cologne-half empty.

I could hear the snickers and whispers, and I wasn’t sure I could look at Teddy. “Isn’t this lovely?” I asked, placing the bracelet on my wrist. “Teddy, would you help me fasten it?” He smiled shyly as he fixed the clasp, and I held up my wrist for all of them to admire. There were a few hesitant ooh’s and ahh’s, but as I dabbed the cologne behind my ears, all the little girls lined up for a dab behind their ears.

I continued to open gifts until I reached the bottom of the pile. We ate our refreshments, and the bell rang. The children filed out with shouts of “See you next year!” and “Merry Christmas!” but Teddy waited at his desk.. When they had all left, he walked up to me, clutching his gift and books to his chest. “You smell just like my mom,” he said softly. “Her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I’m glad you liked it.”

He left quickly. I locked the door, sat down at my desk, and wept, resolving to make up to Teddy what I had deliberately deprived him of-a teacher who cared.

I stayed every afternoon with Teddy from the end of Christmas holidays until the last day of school. Sometimes we worked together. Sometimes he worked alone while I drew up lesson plans or graded papers. Slowly but surely he caught up with the rest of the class. In fact, his final averages were among the highest in the class, and although I knew he would be moving out of the state when school was out, I was not worried for him. Teddy had reached a level that would stand him in good stead the following year, no matter where he went. He had enjoyed a measure of success, and as we were taught in our teacher training courses, “Success builds success.”

I did not hear from Teddy until seven years later, when his first letter appeared in my mailbox.

“Dear Miss Thompson,

I just wanted you to be the first to know, I will be graduating second in my class next month.

Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard”

I sent him a card of congratulations and a small package, a pen and pencil gift set. I wondered what he would do after graduation. Four years later, Teddy’s second letter came.

“Dear Miss Thompson,

I wanted you to be the first to know. I was just informed that I will be graduating first in my class. The university has not been easy, but I liked it.

Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard”

I sent him a good pair of sterling silver monogrammed cuff links and a card, so proud of him I could burst! And now today-Teddy’s third letter.

“Dear Miss Thompson,

I wanted you to be the first to know. As of today I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. How about that!!?? I’m going to be married in July, the 2 7th, to be exact. I wanted to ask if you could come and sit where Mom would sit if she were here. I’ll have no family there as Dad died last year.

Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard”

I’m not sure what kind of gift one sends to a doctor on completion of medical school and state boards. Maybe I’ll just wait and take a wedding gift, but a note can’t wait.

“Dear Ted,

Congratulations! You made it, and you did it yourself! In spite of those like me and not because of us, this day has come for you. God bless you. I’ll be at the wedding with bells on!”

View our Napier Life video!

© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: children, teaching

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photo credit: wolfpix

Several years ago, a neighbor related to me an experience that happened to her one winter on a beach in Washington State. The incident stuck in my mind and I took note of what she said. Later, at a writers’ conference, the conversation came back to me and I felt I had to set it down. Here is her story, as haunting to me now as when I first heard it:

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.(...)
Read the rest of A Sandpiper To Bring You Joy (882 words)

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© davidy for Inspirational Journal, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: bereavement, child, innocence, love

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