Atria’s Amazing Miracle

Atria’s Amazing Miracle
Athor unknown

Atira was watching the TV show 20/20 in her living room in Seattle. The show was about a Nun, in Egypt, that was dedicating her retirement years to the garbage-dump-city in CAIRO.

Atira has an Egyptian import business. When she saw the show of the Nun and her works for the poor and homeless at the garbage dump city, Atira knew she had to help. Atira ordered the transcript from the TV show and set out to see what she could do to help.

Atira asked everyone coming to a baby shower, at her home, to bring a wash cloth and soap. They thought she was nuts, until she told them why.

She called her Dentist and Doctor’s offices and asked what kind of medicines would be needed to help out in a poverty area.

She collected toothbrushes, bandages, etc….until she had suitcases full of things to take to Cairo with her. Her goal was to do her part to help.

Atira was going with a group on her next trip to Egypt so she asked some of the other members in the tour group to help by bringing used children’s clothing , pencils, and children’s books with them to be given to this caring Nun Sister E.

Eight other people were kind enough to collect and bring pens, coloring books, clothes, and various toys, to help.

On their arrival in Cairo, not knowing what to do with the mountain of supplies for the Nun. She asked the hotel manager if he could try and locate this healer of the poor, and within days, he had located the Nun. But the Nun was out of the country and would not be back until Atira had returned to Seattle.

The Hotel Manager said he would store the goods and present them to the Sister E for Atira.

But, that is not the miracle part. The miracle is how one person can effect the lives of others, how our intentions lead us to miracles.

The hotel manager shared the story of Atira’s kind gesture,with other members of the tour.

As it turned out there were two people, who worked with World Wide Health Care Project for the Poor. They had never heard of Sister E. and her plight to help the poor.

These men stayed in Cairo longer than Atira could, and were there when the goods from Atira were collected by Sister E.

These men ended up talking to Sister E. They were able to get her funding for a Health Care Clinic.

When the hotel manager saw Sister E he realized that she often had come into the hotel to use the phone, and he just did not know who she was.

And now, she has FREE phone privileges in his hotel.

Atira wanted to help in a small way….this story makes my heart smile and I hope it does yours too. Helping in whatever way you can help makes miracles unfold for others.

P.S. Atira still travels to Egypt regularity. She always tries to take something to help Sister E. It was three years before Atira was able to meet Sister E. In person. It was a wonderful meeting with heart felt thanks and a new found friendship. The last time she was there the 66 children needed only $75 extra for vaccinations, and Atira paid for these children. This is one of the finest woman I know. She did get to help in a greater way than she could have ever imagined.

President Hinckley on Tithing

Pres. Hinckley- October 96. In his interview with Mike Wallace.

Mr. Wallace:

Caregiver’s Companion

Copied from the book, “A Caregiver’s Companion”.

Blessed are they who understand when I keep telling the
same stories over an over.

Blessed are they who know that my ears today can’t hear
as once they did.

Blessed are they who seem to know that my eyes are
bright, but my mind is slow.

Blessed are they who looked away and didn’t notice my
wrinkles today.

Blessed are they with a cheery smile who encouraged me
to try once more.

Blessed are they who never say, “You asked me that
question twice today.”

Blessed are they who know the ways and ignore the
frustration that releases my tension.

Blessed are they who make me know that I am loved,
respected and not alone.

Blessed are they who know that I am at a loss to put
my thoughts into words, I get mixed up at times.

Blessed are they who ease the days too often filled
with pain and loneliness.

Blessed are they who listen for I still have something
to say.

Blessed are they who love me, just me, for what I am.
Your love sustains me.

Sue Camasta

Charity (Marvin J. Ashton)

Charity is perhaps, in many ways a misunderstood word. We often equate charity with visiting the sick, taking in casseroles to those in need, or sharing our excess with those who are less fortunate. But really, true charity is much, much more.

Real charity is not something you give away; it is something that you acquire and make a part of yourself. And when the virtue of charity becomes implanted in your heart, you are never the same again. It makes the thought of being a basher repulsive.

Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefits of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is reusing to take advantage of another’s weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other. None of us need one more person bashing or pointing out where we have failed or fallen short. Most of us are already well aware of the areas in which we are weak. “What each of us does need is family, friends, employers, and brothers and sisters who support us, who have the patience to teach us. who believe in us, and who believe we’re trying to do the best we can, in spite of our weaknesses. What ever happened to giving each other the benefit of the doubt? What ever happened to hoping that another person would succeed or achieve? What ever happened to rooting for each other (This could be placed at Moroni 7:45-48)

Marvin J. Ashton. Ensign, May, 1992 p.19

Don’t We All

One evening I was parked in front of the mall wiping off my car. I had just come from the car wash and was waiting for my wife to get out of work. Coming my way from across the parking lot was what society would consider a bum. From the looks of him, he had no car, no home, no clean clothes, and no money. There are times when you feel generous but there are other times that you just don’t want to be bothered. This was one of the “Don’t want to be bothered” times.

“I hope he doesn’t ask me for money,” I thought. He didn’t. He came and sat on the curb in front of the bus stop and he didn’t look like he could have enough money to even ride the bus. After a few minutes he spoke. “That’s a very nice car,” he said. He was ragged but had an air of dignity around him. I said, “Thanks,” and continued wiping off my car.

He sat there quietly as I worked. The expected plea for money never came. As the silence between us widened something inside said, ‘ask him if he needs any help.’ I was sure that he would say yes, but I held true to the inner voice.

“Do you need any help?” I asked. He answered in three simple but profound words that I shall never forget. We often look for wisdom in great men and women. We expect it from those of higher learning and accomplishments. I expected nothing but an outstretched grimy hand. He spoke three words that shook me.

“Don’t we all?” he said.

I needed help. Maybe not for bus fare or a place to sleep, but I needed help. I reached in my wallet and gave him not only enough for bus fare but enough to get a warm meal and shelter for the day. Those three little words still ring true. No matter how much you have, no matter how much you have accomplished, you need help too. No matter how little you have, no matter how loaded you are with problems, even without money or a place to sleep, you can give help. Even if it’s just a compliment, you can give that.

You never know when you may see someone that appears to have it all. They are waiting on you to give them what they don’t have. A different perspective on life, a glimpse at something beautiful, a respite from daily chaos, that only you through a torn world can see.

Maybe the man was just a homeless stranger wandering the streets. Maybe he was more than that. Maybe he was sent by a power that is great and wise to minister to a soul too comfortable in themselves.

Maybe God looked down, called an Angel, dressed him like a bum, then said, “Go minister to that man cleaning the car, that man needs help.”

“Don’t We All?”

Minor Distractions

Right before the jetway door closed, I scrambled aboard the plane going from LA to Chicago, lugging my laptop and overstuffed briefcase. It was the first leg of an important business trip a few weeks before Christmas, and I was running late. I had a ton of work to catch up on, half wishing, half praying.

I muttered “Please God, do me a favor; let there be an empty seat next to mine, I don’t need any distractions.”

I was on the aisle in a two seat row. Across sat a businesswoman with her nose buried in a newspaper. No problem. But in the seat beside mine, next to the window, was a young boy wearing a big red tag around his neck which read: “Minor Traveling Unattended”.

The kid sat perfectly still, hands in his lap, eyes straight ahead. He’d probably been told never to talk to strangers. Good, I thought.

Then the flight attendant came by, “Michael, I have to sit down because we’re about to take off,” she said to the little boy. “This nice man will answer any of your questions, okay?”

Did I have a choice? I offered my hand, and Michael shook it twice, straight up and down.

“Hi, I’m Jerry,” I said. You must be about seven years old.”

“I’ll bet you don’t have any kids,” he responded.

“Why do you think that? Sure I do.” I took out my wallet to show him pictures.

“Because I’m six.” he said.

“I was way off, huh?”

The captains’ voice came over the speakers: “Flight attendants, prepare for take off.” Michael pulled his seat belt tighter and gripped the armrests as the jet engines roared.

I leaned over “Right about now, I usually say a prayer. I asked God to keep the plane safe and to send angels to protect us.”

“Amen,” he said, then added, “but I’m not afraid of dying.. I’m not afraid because my mama’s already in heaven.”

“I’m sorry” I said.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, peering out the window as the plane lifted off.

“I’m sorry you don’t have your mama here.” My briefcase jostled at my feet, reminding me of all the work I needed to do. “Just look down there, there’s probably a fishing boat full of guys like you and me.” I said.

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Just fishing, maybe for bass or tuna. Does your dad ever take you fishing?” I asked.

“I don’t have a dad.” Michael sadly responded.

Only six years old and he didn’t have a dad, and his Mom had died, and here he was flying halfway across the country all by himself. The least I could do was make sure he had a good flight. With my foot I pushed my briefcase under my seat.

“Do they have a bathroom here? he asked, squirming a little.

“Sure, let me take you there. ” I showed him how to work the ‘Occupied’ sign, and what buttons to push on the sink, then he closed the door. When he emerged, he wore a wet shirt and a huge smile and he said, “That sink shoots water everywhere!” The attendants smiled.

Michael got the VIP treatment from the crew during snack time. I took out my laptop and tried to work on a talk I had to give, but my mind kept going to Michael. I couldn’t stop looking at the crumpled grocery bag on the floor by his seat. He’d told me that everything he owned was in that bag. Poor kid. While Michael was getting a tour of the cockpit the flight attendant told me his grandmother would pick him up in Chicago. In the seat pocket a large manila envelope held all the paperwork regarding his custody.

He came back explaining, “I got wings! I got cards! I got more peanuts. I saw the pilot and he said I could come back anytime!” For a while he stared at the manila envelope.

“What are you thinking?” I asked Michael.

He didn’t answer. He buried his face in his hands and started sobbing. It had been years since I’d heard a little one cry like that. My kids were grown — still I don’t think they’d ever cried so hard. I rubbed his back and wondered where the flight attendant was.

“What’s the matter buddy?” I asked.

All I got were muffled words “I don’t know my grandma. Mama didn’t want her to come visit and see her sick. What if Grandma doesn’t want me? Where will I go?”

“Michael, do you remember the Christmas story? Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus? Remember how they came to Bethlehem just before Jesus was born? It was late and cold, and they didn’t have anywhere to stay, no family, no hotels, not even hospitals where babies could be born. Well, God was watching out for them. He found them a place to stay; a stable with animals.

“Wait, wait,” excitedly, Michael tugged on my sleeve. “I know Jesus. I remember now. Then he closed his eyes, lifted his head and began to sing. His voice rang out with a strength that rocked his tiny frame. “Jeeesus looooves me–thiiiiiis I knowwwwwww. For the Biiiiiible tells meeeeee sooooo…..”

Passengers turned or stood up to see the little boy who made the large sound. Michael didn’t notice his audience. With his eyes shut tight and voice lifted high, he was in a good place.

“You’ve got a great voice,” I told him when he was done. “I’ve never heard anyone sing like that.”

“My Mama said God gave me good pipe just like my grandma’s” he said. “My grandma loves to sing, she sings in her church.”

“Well, I’ll bet you can sing there too. The two of you will be running that choir.”

The seat belt sign came on as we approached O’Hare. The flight attendant came by and said we just have a few minutes now, but she told Michael it’s important that he put on his seat belt. People started stirring in their seats, like the kids before the final school bell. By the time the seat belt sign went off, passengers were rushing down the aisle. Michael and I stayed seated.

“Are you gonna go with me?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world buddy!” I assured him.

Clutching his bag and the manila envelope in one hand, he grabbed my hand with the other. The two of us followed the flight attendant down the jetway. All the noises of the airport seemed to fill the corridor. Michael stopped, flipping his hand from mine, he dropped to his knees. His mouth quivered. His eyes brimmed with tears.

“What’s wrong Michael? I’ll carry you if you want.”

He opened his mouth and moved his lips, but it was as if his words were stuck in his throat. When I knelt next to him, he grabbed my neck. I felt his warm, wet face as he whispered in my ear. “I want my mama!!!” I tried to stand, but Michael squeezed my neck even harder. Then I heard a rattle of footsteps on the corridor’s metal floor.

“Is that you baby?”

I couldn’t see the woman behind me, but I heard the warmth in her voice “Oh baby,” she cried. “Come here. Grandma loves you so much. I need a hug baby. Let go of that nice man,” she knelt beside Michael and me. Michael’s grandma stroked his arm. I smelled a hint of orange blossoms. “You’ve got folks waiting for you out there Michael. Do you know that you’ve got aunts, and uncles and cousins? ” She patted his skinny shoulders and started humming. Then she lifted her head and sang. I wondered if the flight attendant told her what to sing, or maybe she just knew what was right. Her strong, clear voice filled the passageway, “Jesus loves me — this I know…” Michael’s gasps quieted.

Still holding him, I rose, nodded hello to his grandma and watched her pick up the grocery bag.

“Thank You, Sir,” she said.

Right before we got to the doorway to the terminal, Michael loosened his grip around my neck and reached for his grandma. As soon as she walked across the threshold with him, cheers erupted. From the size of the crowed, I figured family, friends, ministers, elders, deacons, and church members and most of the neighbors had come to meet Michael. A tall man tugged on Michael’s ear and pulled off the red sign around his neck. It no longer applied.

As I made my way to the gate for my connecting flight, I barely noticed the weight of my overstuffed briefcase and laptop. I started to wonder who would be in the seat next to mine this time…… And I smiled and I prayed….”Thank You, God, for unanswered prayers.”

The Greatest Gift to Yourself is the Gift you Give to Others!

Prison, The

In 1921, Lewis Lawes became the warden at Sing Sing Prison. No prison was tougher than Sing Sing during that time. But when Warden Lawes retired some 20 years later, that prison had become a humanitarian institution. Those who studied the system said credit for the change belonged to Lawes. But when he was asked about the transformation, here’s what he said, “I owe it all to my wonderful wife, Catherine, who is buried outside the prison walls”. Catherine Lawes was a young mother with three small Children when her husband became the warden. Everybody warned her from the beginning that she should never set foot inside the prison walls, but that didn’t stop Catherine! When the first prison basketball game was held, she went walking into the gym with her three beautiful kids and she sat in the stands with the inmates.

Her attitude was: “My husband and I are going to take care of these men and I believe they will take care of me! I don’t have to worry!

She insisted on getting acquainted with them and their records. She discovered one convicted murderer was blind so she paid him a visit. Holding his hand in hers she said, “Do you read Braille?”

“What’s Braille”, he asked. Then she taught him how to read.

Years later he would weep in love for her.

Later, Catherine found a deaf-mute in prison. She went to school to learn how to use sign language. Many said that Catherine Lawes was the body of Jesus that came alive again in Sing Sing from 1921 to 1937.

Then, she was killed in a car accident. The next morning Lewis Lawes didn’t come to work, so the acting warden took his place. It seemed almost instantly that the prison knew something was wrong.

The following day, her body was resting in a casket in her home, three- quarters of a mile from the prison. As the acting warden took his early morning walk, he was shocked to see a large crowd of the toughest, hardest- looking criminals gathered like a herd of animals at the main gate. He came closer and noted tears of grief and sadness. He knew how much they loved Catherine. He turned and faced the men, “All right, men you can go. Just be sure and check in tonight!” then he opened the gate and a parade of criminals walked, without a guard, the three-quarters of a mile to stand in line to pay their final respects to Catherine Lawes. And every one of them checked back in. Every one!

Geru, The

Once upon a time, somewhere on the Indian subcontinent, a set of parents were having trouble with their son. This son had developed an addiction for chocolates. He ate them morning, noon, and night. His weight had ballooned to twice as much as was normal. Being concerned parents, his mother and father sought the advice of the local village guru. They had been advised by this guru several times in the past, always with satisfactory results.

When they described their problem to him, he sat and thought for a very long while. Eventually, he told the parents that he could help them with their son, but it would be awhile before he could do so. The guru asked them to return with their son in a month. The parents were confused. Never before had the guru not provided immediate advice. However, one does not argue with a guru, so the parents left.

A month later the parents returned with their son. The guru immediately began to develop a program to help the boy with his addiction. The parents were very satisfied with his advice. At the end of the hour, the guru dismissed the family. Still curious, the parents asked as they were leaving, “Sir! We are confused. You asked us to wait a month before you would help us. We don’t understand why.”

The guru responded, “You see, a month ago I had a problem much like your son’s. It was necessary for me to deal with my addiction to chocolates before I could help him with his.”

Wreck Of The Old 97, The

By Joe Duffy

Nothing in the world could harm my father.

Ser-vant, The

I want to tell you a special story. It is about an ant named Servant!

There was once a family of ants. There was the Father Ant, Mother Ant, and six Children ants named Persist-Ant, Observ-Ant, Pleas-Ant, Dilig-Ant, Obedi-Ant, and Servant

They were a happy family. They lived in a nice comfortable ant hill that Father Ant had worked hard to make, and Mother Ant always kept it looking very clean and neat.

Everyday the six little ants would march out of the ant hill in a straight line to go to school and come home the very same way. You could always tell who was who, even though all the ants looked very much alike.

Persist-ant was always first and made sure everyone stayed in line. Mother and Father Ant told him to keep the line straight and on course and he did this even though the others often complained. But thanks to Persist-ant they always made it to school and back.

Observ-ant came next. It was a good thing Persist-ant was first because Observant was often busy looking around, so he didn

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