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General Forum: Religion | | kathAvAhini | |
| Emi cheppinA nI gurinchi cheppukOvaDam marchipOvu kadA himA. That is Hima's touch, right? :):):) bAgundi katha, cheppE Saili chakkagA undi
Posted by: Durga Prasad At: 9, Sep 2003 1:33:44 PM IST
NICE STORY :)
Posted by: Mr. Sagar M At: 8, Sep 2003 11:22:42 PM IST
Yes, thats what I tried to say, guess my words got jumbled... like my sight! ahahaha
Posted by: Durga Prasad At: 8, Sep 2003 9:52:21 PM IST
Oh My God! Your story squeezed my heart Ms Sahiti! I think I should make more money before I get a question from my kid in future!!! Really an eye-opener for those who can't spend time with their kids...
Posted by: Durga Prasad At: 8, Sep 2003 5:29:49 PM IST
now a days economical relation is more strong than human relations
Posted by: Mr. manoopuli At: 8, Sep 2003 1:55:00 PM IST
Dear Friends,
You may have seen this before but it bears a second reading.
Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in Mommy's tummy.
He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.
The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen. In time, the labor pains came.
Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?
Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in very serious! Condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St.Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inched by.
The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst. Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. I want to sing to her, he kept saying. Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael! Whether they liked it or not. If he didn't see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket. The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed." The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister" she stated.
Then Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing. In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray." Instantly the baby girl seemed to! Respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady.
"Keep on singing, Michael," encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes. "You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away."
As Michael sang to his sister, the baby's ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr. "Keep on singing, sweetheart." "The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms". Michael's little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her. "Keep on singing, Michael."
Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away..."
The next, day...the very next day...the little girl was well enough to go home.
Woman's Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother's Song.
The! Medical staff just called it a miracle.
Karen called it a miracle of God's love.
NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE. LOVE IS SO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL.
Life is good. Have a Wonderful Day!
Posted by: Mr. Pradeep Kumar At: 7, Sep 2003 8:11:48 PM IST
nice story...vijayaji...
Posted by: Mr. Sadashiva Rao Nuthalapati At: 7, Sep 2003 2:40:38 PM IST
Dear Friends,
You may have seen this before but it bears a second reading.
One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.
Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment and, as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.
That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.
On Monday, she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!" and, "I didn't know others liked me so much." were some of the comments.
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter.
The exercise had accomplished its purpose.
The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student.
She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed with his friends. One by one, those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin. As she stood there, one of the soldiers, who acted as pallbearer, came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded: "Yes."
Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot." After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.
"We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notepaper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.
The teacher knew, without looking, that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."
All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around.
Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list.
It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album."
"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."
Then Vickie, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group.
"I carry this with me at all times," Vickie said, and without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we all saved our lists."
That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.
The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one-day will be.
So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late...
Posted by: Mr. Pradeep Kumar At: 6, Sep 2003 12:55:18 PM IST
habbaa Vijaya gaarenandi ....vijaya noari
Posted by: Miss Priya Poornima Chinta At: 6, Sep 2003 12:45:44 PM IST
vijaya gaaruu elaa vunnaaru? chaalaa rOjulu ayyindi.
Vijaya garu or Vijay garu? @poornima
Posted by: KAVITHA At: 6, Sep 2003 12:41:55 PM IST
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