Once upon a time some kids were walking along the road side laughing and njoyng.They were unawared about the happenings of world,unawared about the creator and creation.
They weren't knowing what feelings are? Neither they have tasted the bitterness of being poor.
While they were walking one of the boy's eye got caught towards a coat and worn out shoes.They say a farmer working hard in his field who left his items along road side.
Farmer was very poor but has firm faith on ALLAH (swt).

One boy decided something mischievous. He told his friend that they will take away the pair of shoes which the farmer has put dere.

Other boy was somewhat good,he analysed that the pair of shoes are torn away and told his friend that this farmer is defintly a poor man. It'll b very bad if only for the sake of reaction we'll hide his shoes.

Instantly an idea can in his mind,he told his friend y not to put a silver coin in each shoe and c d reaction of farmer.

Somehow the other boy agreed....

They put a silver coin in each shoe and remain hidden on the other side of road to c farmers reaction.

As farmer put one shoe something stuck in his shoe and when he reopened shoe he saw a coin.He saw here and there but no1 was there.

He was shocked and at the same time his eyes went towards sky saying "Alhamdulilah"

wen he put second shoe same thing happend but wen he saw another silver coin tears rolled from his eyes. He immediately went in sajood and was whispering

Oo ALLAH only u knew how much i needed money this time,only u knew my family is hungry and i had went out for their food but couldn't get.

Only u knew that i couldn't sleep at night coz of hugryness.

Oo ALLAH


surely ur treasures are vast... U r supreme... ALLAH hu akbar"

With wet eyes farmer began his journey to home.

These words made childern to weep along side of road,they had got and important lesson of life for which they could sacrifice their silver coins.
After dat these childern became pious Muslim

Picture of Peace

There once was a King who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of peace. Many artists tried. The King looked at all the pictures, but there were only two he really liked and he had to choose between them.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror, for peaceful towering mountains were all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains, too. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which rain fell and in which lightening played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all. But when the King looked, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on her nest, perfect peace.

Which picture do you think won the prize?

The King chose the second picture. Do you know why?

Because, as explained by the King: "Peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace."

The Moral of the Story: Realize that true happiness lies within you. Waste no time and effort searching for peace, contentment and joy in the world outside.

Allah (SWT) says in Noble Qur'an: "Those who believe and whose hearts find satisfaction in the remembrance of Allah: for without doubt in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find satisfaction." (Surah al-Rad 13:28)

https://www.facebook.com/IslamicReflections?fref=ts

o she's My Sister

A true story translated by Muhammad Alshareef

Her cheeks were worn and sunken and her skin hugged her bones. That didn't stop her though, you could never catch her not reciting Qur'an. Always vigil in her personal prayer room. Dad had set up for her. Bowing, prostrating, raising her hands in prayer. That was the way she was from dawn to sunset and back again, boredom was for others.

As for me I craved nothing more than fashion magazines and novels. I treated myself all the time to videos until those trips to the rental place became my trademark. As they say, when something becomes habit people tend to distinguish you by it. I was negligent in my responsibilities and laziness characterized my Salah.

One night, I turned the video off after a marathon three hours of watching. The adhan softly rose in that quiet night. I slipped peacefully into my blanket.

Her voice carried from her prayer room. "Yes? Would you like anything Noorah?" I said.

With a sharp needle she popped my plans. "Don't sleep before you pray Fajr!"

Agh...there's still an hour before Fajr, that was only the first Adhaan!

With those loving pinches of hers, she called me closer. She was always like that, even before the fierce sickness shook her spirit and shut her in bed. "Hanan can you come sit beside me."

I could never refuse any of her requests, you could touch the purity and sincerity. "Yes, Noorah?"

"Please sit here."

"OK, I"m sitting. What's on your mind?"

With the sweetest mono voice she began reciting:

"Every soul shall taste death and you will merely be repaid your earnings on Resurrection Day"

She stopped thoughtfully. Then she asked, "Do you believe in death?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you believe that you shall be responsible for whatever you do, regardless of how small or large?"

"I do, but Allah is Forgiving and Merciful and I’ve got a long life waiting for me."

"Stop it Hanan ... aren't you afraid of death and it's abruptness? Look at Hind. She was younger than you but she died in a car accident. So did so and so, and so and so. Death is age-blind and your age could never be a measure of when you shall die."

The darkness of the room filled my skin with fear. "I'm scared of the dark and now you made me scared of death, how am I supposed to go to sleep now. Noorah, I thought you promised you'd go with us on vacation during the summer break."

Impact. Her voice broke and her heart quivered. "I might be going on a long trip this year Hanan, but somewhere else. Just maybe. All of our lives are in Allah’s hands and we all belong to Him."

My eyes welled and the tears slipped down both cheeks.

I pondered my sisters grizzly sickness, how the doctors had informed my father privately that there was not much hope that Noorah was going to outlive the disease. She wasn't told though. Who hinted to her? Or was it that she could sense the truth.

"What are you thinking about Hanan?" Her voice was sharp. "Do you think I am just saying this because I am sick? Uh - uh. In fact, I may live longer than people who are not sick. And you Hanan, how long are you going to live? Twenty years, maybe? Forty? Then what?" Through the dark she reached for my hand and squeezed gently. "There's no difference between us; we're all going to leave this world to live in Paradise or agonize in Hell. Listen to the words of Allah:

"Anyone who is pushed away from the Fire and shown into Jannah will have triumphed."

I left my sister's room dazed, her words ringing in my ears: May Allah guide you Hanan - don't forget your prayer.

Eight O'clock in the morning. Pounding on my door. I don't usually wake up at this time. Crying. Confusion. O Allah, what happened?

Noorahs condition became critical after Fajr, they took her immediately to the hospital ... Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.

There wasn't going to be any trips this summer. It was written that I would spend the summer at home.

After an eternity...

It was one O'clock in the afternoon. Mother phoned the hospital. "Yes. You can come and see her now." Dad's voice had changed, mother could sense something had gone deathly wrong. We left immediately.

Where was that avenue I used to travel and thought was so short? Why was it so long now, so very long. Where was the cherished crowd and traffic that would give me a chance to gaze left and right. Everyone, just move out of our way. Mother was shaking her head in her hands crying as she made dua'a for her Noorah.

We arrived at the hospitals main entrance.

One man was moaning, another was involved in an accident and a third’s eyes were iced, you couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.

We skipped stairs to Noorahs floor. She was in intensive care.

The nurse approached us. "Let me take you to her." As we walked down the aisles the nurse went on expressing how sweet a girl Noorah was. She reassured Mother somewhat that Noorah’s condition had gotten better than what it was in the morning.

"Sorry. No more than one visitor at a time." This was the intensive care unit. Through the small window in the door and past the flurry of white robes I caught my sisters eyes. Mother was standing beside her. After two minutes, mother came out unable to control her crying.

"You may enter and say Salam to her on condition that you do not speak too long," they told me. "Two minutes should be enough."

"How are you Noorah? You were fine last night sister, what happened?"

We held hands, she squeezed harmlessly. "Even now, Alhamdulillah, I'm doing fine."

"Alhamdulillah...but...your hands are so cold."

I sat on her bedside and rested my fingers on her knee. She jerked it away. "Sorry ... did I hurt you?"

"No, it is just that I remembered Allah's words

One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud)

{waltafatul saaqu bil saaq}

"Hanan pray for me. I may be meeting the first day of the hearafter very soon. It is a long journey and I haven't prepared enough good deeds in my suitcase."

A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek at her words. I cried and she joined me. The room blurred away and left us two sisters - to cry together. Rivulets of tears splashed down on my sister’s palm which I held with both hands. Dad was now becoming more worried about me. I've never cried like that before.

At home and upstairs in my room, I watched the sun pass away with a sorrowful day. Silence mingled in our corridors. A cousin came in my room, another. The visitors were many and all the voices from downstairs stirred together. Only one thing was clear at that point ... Noorah had died!

I stopped distinguishing who came and who went. I couldn't remember what they said. O Allah, where was I? What was going on? I couldn't even cry anymore.

Later that week they told me what had happened. Dad had taken my hand to say goodbye to my sister for the last time, I had kissed Noorah's head.

I remember only one thing though, seeing her spread on that bed, the bed that she was going to die on. I remembered the verse she recited:

"One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud)" and I knew too well the truth of the next verse: "The drive on that day we be to your Lord (Allah)!"

I tiptoed into her prayer room that night. Staring at the quiet dressers and silenced mirrors, I treasured who it was that had shared my mother's stomach with me. Noorah was my twin sister.

I remembered who I had swapped sorrows with. Who had comforted my rainy days. I remembered who had prayed for my guidance and who had spent so many tears for so many long nights telling me about death and accountability. May Allah save us all.

Tonight is Noorah's first night that she shall spend in her tomb. O Allah, have mercy on her and illumine her grave. This was her Qur'an, her prayer mat and this was the spring rose-colored dress that she told me she would hide until she got married, the dress she wanted to keep just for her husband.

I remembered my sister and cried over all the days that I had lost. I prayed to Allah to have mercy on me, accept me and forgive me. I prayed to Allah to keep her firm in her grave as she always liked to mention in her supplications.

At that moment, I stopped. I asked myself: what if it was I who had died? Where would I be moving on to? Fear pressed me and the tears began all over again.

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar...

The first adhan rose softly from the Masjid, how beautiful it sounded this time. I felt calm and relaxed as I repeated the Muadhdhins call. I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders and stood to pray Fajr. I prayed as if it was my last prayer, a farewell prayer, just like Noorah had done yesterday. It had been her last Fajr.

Now and insha' Allah for the rest of my life, if I awake in the mornings I do not count on being alive by evening, and in the evening I do not count on being alive by morning.

We are all going on Noorah's journey. What have we prepared for it?
and we never knew who will be the next ..

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One of the best stories ever!! Quite lengthy but I promise you, w'Allaah, it is worth it!!

It was a beautiful moonlit, starless night. I gazed out of the window and breathed in deeply. It all seemed so peaceful, but yet, the turmoil within me seemed to be raging harder than ever. I had a sudden urge to jump and just let go. Let go of my worries, my problems, my life…

I’m so not worth anything.

Sometimes I feel like my family thinks I was only a nuisance…and I don’t blame them. After all, they have to pay for my food, pay for my school, and pay for my clothes. I feel like my friends don’t really like me, and I don’t blame them either. After all, it’s not like anything is really special about my personality…

I’m so not worth anything.

Why am I still on this Earth? I wish I could just end everyone’s torment by disappearing. Yes, that would be enjoyable… disappearing to a land in the middle of the desert, or on an island in the middle of an ocean where I wouldn’t be bothering anybody. Or I could just leave this world altogether…

I’m so not worth anything.

Things might have been better if I had not been born. My parents would have more to spend on themselves. My teachers would have one less person to scold. My classmates would have more time to spend chillin’ instead of rolling their eyes at me. My future wife would be just as happy or more with another man. Perhaps it would be better if I stopped intruding into other’s lives altogether. Perhaps it would be better if I simply stopped living…

I’m so not worth anything.

Suddenly two hands enveloped my eyes from behind me, and a voice giggled and cried out, “Who is it?!”

I wasn’t amused. I shoved the hands away in annoyance.

“Get away from me Sara. Go back to your room.” It was my little sister, up to her usual antics.

“But why, Bhaiya (brother)? You didn’t spend any time with me the whole day!”

“Sara, I told you once. Go away!”

She pouted her lips and stubbornly said, “No! I won’t go until you come with me. Come on!” She began to tug at my arms, willing for me to come with her.

I once more shoved her arms to the side and looked at her furiously.

“Sara, get out. NOW!” I bellowed. I was incensed that she disturbed me while I was so deeply immersed in my important thoughts. I continued to glare at her until she silently trudged out of the room.

“Little sisters, they’re so annoying!” I fumed to no one in particular. I looked out of the window into the moonlit sky again, and once more began to immerse myself in my life-or-death thoughts…

I began to imagine how everybody would react if they found my body dead tomorrow. Familiar faces floated through my memories as I tried to imagine their faces in shock, not able to comprehend that I was no longer alive. I felt tears slowly well up in my eyes, as I realized that those moments of sadness, if it even happened, would quickly become a distant memory. The whole world was bound to forget me within just a few days of my death. Sure, my parents would have something to discuss for a week or two, but as death quickly becomes a stale topic of conversation for everyone, they would quickly move on to more riveting and current topics. I would lie in my grave, completely forgotten by the community around me.

I looked out at the starless sky, and wished that I could just end the torment.

I’m so not worth anything…

My trail of depression broke again as I felt a small card slipped into my hand. I turned around and saw my young sister again, but she now had tears rolling down from her little red, swollen eyes. She didn’t dare look up at me, but looked down, gazing intently at the card that was now in my hand. Agitated, I sighed and slowly unfolded the card.

Inside, in scrawly handwriting, it read:

“Dear Bhaiya,

I’m sorry that I made you mad. Will you forgive me?

– Sara.”

Man, did I feel horrible. Snapped out of my selfishness, I decided to make it up to her. I picked her up, hugged her tightly, and then began to tickle her neck, which always makes her explode into laughter. Her eyes brightened, and she began to smile wide once more. I let her down, and told her quietly, “Sorry for not being nice to you before. I’m not mad at you. I’m just… not feeling well today. Okay?”

She looked up, concerned, and asked softly, “Bhaiya, are you upset? Ammi (mother) said to remember that Allah loves us when we get upset. I think that will make you more happy.”

I managed to give her a weak smile and said, “Yeah, thank you, Sara… Now you go along and play. I’ll spend time with you tomorrow when I feel better, promise.” She beamed as she heard this and traipsed out of the room, already lost in another innocent world. I smiled as I watched her leave the room, and then turned back to the window, willing myself to return to my deep, dark thoughts.

Alas, it was to no avail. Her words, “Allah loves you,” was like a fresh breath of air that cleared my stressed mind of all those heavy thoughts. I whispered the statement over and over, trying to connect the meaning. Allah loves you. Allah loves you? Allah loves me? Subhan’Allah (glory be to Allah), I had totally forgotten to remember Allah in my thoughts! My family, friends, teachers, and relatives had all readily come to mind, but I had forgotten the most important source, my Creator.

I remembered a book that my mother had recently given to me as a gift entitled, “Remember Allah and He will remember you” and quickly picked it out from my bookshelf and read through it. As I began to sift through the pages, reminders kept hitting me: “Your friend is only Allah, His Messenger, and those who believe: those who perform prayer, give alms, and bow [in prayer].” (Qur’an, 5:55). Subhan’Allah, I reflected: Allah is directly telling every single one of us that He is always our friend and supporter.

I am somebody. I am of the Ummah of Muhammad ﷺ. I am of the religion of Allah.

As I continued on reading the book, I couldn’t stop uttering, “Subhan’Allah.” I froze when I came across the following words:

“If Allah loves a person, He calls Jibreel saying, ’Allah loves so and so; Oh Jibreel, love him. And make an announcement amongst the inhabitants of the heaven, Allah loves so and so therefore you should love him also’, and so all the inhabitants of the heaven would love him, and then he is granted (all) the pleasures of the people on the earth.” (Bukhari and Muslim)

Oh Allah! What more could I ever want?! My own Lord mentioning my name – uttering Himself that He loves me! Not only that, but the people in Heaven and Earth will even love me because of Allah? What more could I ever want? Tears began to swell in my eyes as I began to imagine the righteous scholars of the past that must have earned and deserved this high honor. I began to desperately wish and pray that I would be included amongst these people too. I wanted to be worth Allah’s love.

I am somebody. I am a Muslim, a believer and servant of Allah, al-Wadood, the Loving.

“Allah said, ‘O son of Adam! If you mention Me to yourself, I will mention you to Myself. If you mention Me in a gathering, I will mention you in a gathering of the angels (or in a better gathering). If you draw closer to Me by a hand span, I will draw closer to you by forearm’s length. If you draw closer to Me by a forearm’s length, I will draw closer to you by an arm’s length. And if you come to Me walking, I will come to you running” (Bukhari)

I had to lift myself out of feeling worthless. I looked upwards, “Oh Allah, I am turning to You. I had to value my existence because Allah valued me; Oh Allah, please forgive all of my previous sins and allow me to earn Your Pleasure. Oh Allah…”

My dark thoughts tried rushing back into my mind, but they no longer carried the impact and weight as before. It’s true that my heart had habituated the lulling thoughts of depression and suicide, but I realized that this was from Shaytan. He wanted to convince me that I was nobody and so not worth anything. However, I now realize that Allah has given me worth and set a bar to reach, to attain His love. And even when I see that I am truly nobody in this world, it means that I have nothing to lose and everything to give to all those around me. I am at a low point because now I can aim higher.

Let my “friends” laugh at me. Let my teachers sigh at me. Let the world discourage me.

I won’t mind as long as I have Allah to depend on when I’m weak.

I am never forgotten if I remember Allah.

I am somebody.

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A True Beauty From Within.

When she was in high school, Lizzie Velasquez was dubbed “The World’s Ugliest Woman” in an 8-second-long YouTube video. Born with a medical condition so rare that just two other people in the world are thought to have it, Velasquez has no adipose tissue and cannot create muscle, store energy, or gain weight. She has zero percent body fat and weighs just 60 pounds.

In the comments on YouTube, viewers called her “it” and “monster” and encouraged her to kill herself. Instead, Velasquez set four goals: To become a motivational speaker, to publish a book, to graduate college, and to build a family and a career for herself.

Now 23 years old, she’s been a motivational speaker for seven years and has given more than 200 workshops on embracing uniqueness, dealing with bullies, and overcoming obstacles. She’s a senior majoring in Communications at Texas State University in San Marcos, where she lives with her best friend. Her first book, “Lizzie Beautiful,” came out in 2010 and her second, “Be Beautiful, Be You,” was published earlier this month.

“The stares are what I’m really dealing with in public right now,” she told Dr. Drew Pinsky in an interview on CNN’s Headline News this week. “But I think I’m getting to the point where… instead of sitting by and watching people judge me, I’m starting to want to go up to these people and introduce myself or give them my card and say, ‘Hi, I’m Lizzie. Maybe you should stop staring and start learning’.”

Velasquez was born in San Antonio, Texas; she was four weeks premature and weighed just 2 pounds, 10 ounces. “They told us they had no idea how she could have survived,” her mother, Rita, 45, told the Daily Mail. “We had to buy doll’s clothes from the toy store because baby clothes were too big.” Doctors warned Rita and her husband, Lupe, that their oldest child would never be able to walk or talk, let alone live a normal life. (Her two younger siblings were not affected by the syndrome.)

Instead, she has thrived. Her internal organs, brain, and bones developed normally, though her body is tiny. Since she has no fatty tissue in which to store nutrients, she has to eat every 15 to 20 minutes to have enough energy to get through the day. One brown eye started clouding over when she was 4 years old, and now she’s blind in that eye and has only limited sight in the other.

“Some days life doesn’t make sense,” she writes in “Be Beautiful, Be You.” “You just have to change what you can, ask for help and pray about the rest.”

She notes her triumphs and posts inspirational messages on Tumblr, and says that she’s learned to embrace the things that make her unique. Instead of trying to retaliate against people who have made her feel badly, she sets goals for herself and pushes herself to succeed in spite of the haters. She’s even reclaimed YouTube, video blogging about everything from bullying to hair-styling tips to staying positive.

“I feel really glad that I don’t look like the celebrities out there that are so beautiful,” she told Dr. Drew. “There’s a lot of stereotypes attached to that.” Not looking like a supermodel “gives people the opportunity to know you personally,” she explains. “If they’re willing to take that extra step they’ll get to know the person you really are.”

Of course, the horrible comments left on that old YouTube video stung (the video has since been removed, but Velasquez says she read every single comment). Now, she says, she understands that they’re “just words.”

“I’m human, and of course these things are going to hurt,” she said. “Their judgements of me isn’t who I am, and I’m not going to let these things define me.”

“I didn’t sink down to their level,” she said in a follow-up video on YouTube last year. “Instead, I got my revenge through my accomplishments and determination. In the battle between the ‘World’s Ugliest Woman’ video vs. me, I think I won.”

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Alhamdulillah
- Umme Mohammed
All rights reserved at Allah's presence

This Monday was the hottest day of the month of March .Kids came from school and wanted to have a shower .Their dad too came from work and switched on the ac and was served an iced orange drink to cool himself .I also chose a light cotton maxi for the day to keep myself away from the heat.

While trying to have a short afternoon nap , i saw that we were all tossing and turning and my daughter asked,"Ammi is the ac fast ?""Yeah it is ,it will take some time for cooling as its too hot today".i replied.

Later that day at 5 pm i had been walking on the busy mohd Ali road when i saw a family lying at the corner of a footpath huddled in to each other 3 kids and their mom fast asleep .They were unaware of the noisy street and the scorching heat .They didnt have sheet to spread .They were so tired , so sleepy , my eyes welled up with tears that they were unmindful of all the hawkers shouting their wares and here in the comfort of our homes , soft cushioned beds even under fans and in airconditioned rooms we toss and turn

What contentment do they have ? Allah does not deprive anyone from sleep .I understood that actually we r never so tired ,yet we are ungrateful Ch14 V 7 says "If ye are grateful, I will Add more (favours) unto you; But if ye show ingratitude,Truly my punishment Is terrible indeed."

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Old Husband And Wife

A Few Days Ago, As I Was Waiting For Some One Outside A Place, I Saw An Old Husband With His Wife, Both Well Over 60-Years Of Age, Standing Together On Road, And Waiting For Bus. As Soon As Their Destined Bus Arrived At Bus Stop, Fully Loaded With Passengers, Old Man Took His Wife's Hand, And Helped Her To Enter Ladies' Compartment Of Bus, And Himself Stood Outside Bus, To En
sure That His Wife Had Already Entered In Bus. Once, Old Man Was Sure Of His Wife Being Inside Bus, He Entered In Gents' Compartment Of Bus, And This Time, Old Woman Peeped Out Of Bus-Door To Make Sure If Her Husband Had Also Got Into Bus. As Soon As Old Woman Ensured That Her Husband Entered In Bus, She Went Inside Bus, And Moments Later, Her Husband Again Peeped Out Of Door Of Bus Once Again To Make Sure That His Wife Was Also Safely Inside Bus.

All This Hardly Happened Within 5-10 Seconds, Old Husband Ensuring If His Wife Entered In Bus, And Old Wife Ensuring If Her Husband Entered In Bus, But Taught Me One Important Lesson For Life,

"As Coal Grows Old, It Becomes Diamond;
Likewise As Relation Grows Old, It Becomes Priceless.
Learn To Value Relations, Especially When They Grow Old."

Fear Allaah !

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A thirst for Peace.
-Shifnas Thamiem
All rights reserved @ Allah’s presence

What defines “Peace” the best?
Many people can describe it, yet the true answer is that no words can ever define “Peace” as a whole. Once you have peace, you have everything, and when you lose it, you lose everything. That’s the beauty of Peace, no matter who you are; rich or poor.
Problems of your life can be considered as the enemy of Peace on the long run of your life. Regardless to which category of life you and I fall, we all have fallen into the trap of killing our serenity with the threats which our problems have caused.
None is problem free in this world. That doesn’t mean you should kill yourself with your own problems and make yourself a walking dead body. God never burdens a soul beyond its scope; He loads us with problems while He shows a way to lose them off.
Your life is just like a flower garden..
Thousands of buds get killed by the strong wind force before they could bloom, yet many fresh flowers bloom every day. Some of the bloomed flowers are admired by human eyes and tasted by honey bees, while others go neglected and left alone in the flower garden. The neglected flowers know to neglect the fact that they are being neglected and they spread their fragrance on the air to refresh the world.
On the other hand, many other flowers have their ceasing drops of life on the dried petals which are fallen on the ground. They dared to bloom even after knowing they would end up with a gloom.
Did you hear that laughter of those beautiful flowers?
Did you hear that painful moan the neglected flowers make?
Did you hear that heartbreaking cry of those dried petals?
Flowers are living for few days, yet they continue blooming for years and years!
They’re destined to have declining freshness yet they fight with life until they dry!
They are so tiny in size yet they’re capable of pouring peace into the complicated human hearts!
Are you weaker than those soft little flowers?
What are you crying for? Look around yourself, there are many signs!
No matter what role your life asks you to play in this world, always realize your ultimate destination is your Akhirah. Let your laughter, moans, cries and tears color your life with a divine Peace, so that your Akhirah would let you look back and say “I have lived a successful life”.
Technically, you and I know our souls will find freedom if we find “Peace”, therefore always keep your heart peaceful.If you ask me how and where can we find Peace, then let me tell you that, it’s not too late to know how to find “Peace”. No matter how old you are, to which culture you belong, what you believe in and what’s your financial status, the answer is common and unique!
“Verily in the remembrance of God do hearts find rest” (Al-Qur’an 13:28)
You believe in God or not, and you admit it or not, the fact is that you will never find Peace, unless and until you engage yourself with the remembrance of God. To cover your life with tranquility, you must pick a cover which your creator prefers you select.
This is a simple reminder which is made first for myself and then for the rest!
Peace comes with the remembrance of God, so invite it by remembering Him

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Count your blessings

Naz Haider
All rights reserved@Allah's presence

“Will you please listen to me once? At least give me a chance to make you understand. Please,” I sobbed into the phone but Ajay would not listen.

He hanged up the phone and I listened to the dead end. I knew I was crying profusely, my blue dupatta stained with tears. I know everyone in that local train was watching me, wondering what was the cause of this emotional outburst in public. Their gazes were full of questions, amusement…pity! What had I come to, strangers were pitying me! But I was far from bothering about the image I was presenting right now. The grief in my heart was too much to hold back. My tears flowed freely and my heart ached more and more.

I tried calling Ajay once more, in vain. But I kept trying and with the fifth try, he did answer the call, only to bark at me that I was disturbing him and he had nothing to do with me. “I don’t care even if you die” were his exact words. And with this came a fresh avalanche of tears and I resolved to end my life. Removing my spectacles, I wiped my tears, which made no difference as they kept flowing continuously. I saw the girl sitting next to me watching me, and her eyes reflected concern. She shook her head silently and gave me a slight smile. I tried to compose myself and wiped the tears, again. She started scribbling something on the last page of the novel she was reading. She tore the page and passed it to me.
Through the tears I tried to read and this is what the note said:
"Verily, with hardship there is relief" (Quran, Surah al-Sharh, verse 94)

I looked at the girl, confused, and saw tears in her eyes too. She reached out, held my hand and said, “I know how it feels to be left hopeless, but trust me, there is relief always. Though at the time of grief, it might look like there can be no silver lining to this cloud, but it can’t happen. For every time passes, every situation changes and there’s always happiness after a phase of gloom. Trust me.”
She said these with such sincerity that I wanted to believe her. But who was she, what did she know about what I was going through? I thanked her but could not stop the tears from flowing afresh.

At this she said, teary-eyed and sobbing, “You remind me of myself a few years back. I was upset, angry and hopeless. I was on a train like you, all ready to jump off and finish my life. And with it, all the pain and grief. And I was all set to jump when, out of blue, an old friend of mine called my name. I turned and she sensed that something was wrong. She made me sit down and coaxed me to tell what was bothering me. She said that it would lighten the burden on my heart and maybe even help me see the problem in a new light. I told her, through my sobs and sniffles, I told her everything. And this is what she told me "Verily, with hardship there is relief" (Surah al-Sharh,verse 94). She made me see sense that what I was doing was running away from the problem. If I never faced hardship, how would I ever know what happiness is, what comfort is, what good times await me. She told me the invaluable mantra of life that 'This too shall pass', nothing in life is permanent. Well, not even life is permanent, so we might as well smile and take everything in our stride. And guess what, I did see my problems in a new light. I tried to focus on finding the solution rather than crying over the problems. And here I am today, not particularly happy all the time, but at peace. For I know, everything passes, happiness as well as grief.”

I stared at the girl. Why was she doing this, I did not even know her. The train had reached the last station and was already doing its return journey. This girl had stayed with me, holding my hand and trying to put some sense in my head. I stared at that girl, tears flowing profusely from my eyes. She looked back in my eyes and our gazes communicated things neither of us could say. At that moment I felt a bond with that girl. We had much in common. She had been weak at one point in her life, like I am today. She had overcome it, and I would do the same.

I began to say thank you, but she squeezed my hand and said, “Don’t thank me. Thank Allah that he placed me here, in this train today because you needed me. Just promise me one thing sister, promise to be strong – come what may, because Allah gives troubles to make us strong, so promise me, you will be strong.” I nodded and gave her a weak smile.

The train was coming to a halt and she got up to leave. As she reached the door, she looked back and said, “Assalamu Alaikum, may peace be with you.”
Hastily I scribbled my phone number on the piece of paper she had given me, abruptly got up and passed the chit to that girl and said, as the train started moving, “Please do call me.”
Today, three years later, we are friends, best friends. I feel blessed to have found her that day, I am alive because of her…and yes stronger too!

On no soul doth Allah place a burden greater than it can bear.
~ (Quran, Surah AlBaqrah 2:286)

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════════ Story of Scorpion ════════

An old man saw a scorpion drowning and decided to pull it out from the water.
He calmly extended his hand to reach the creature. When he did, the scorpion stung him. With the effect of the pain, the old man let go the creature and it fell back into the water.

The man realizing that the scorpion was drowning again, got back and tried to rescue it but then again it stung him. He let go of it again.

A young boy standing by, approached the old man and said,”excuse me Sir, you are going to hurt yourself trying to
save the evil-vicious creature, why do you insist? Don’t you realize that each time you try to help the scorpion, it stings you?”

The man replied, “the nature of the scorpion is to sting and mine is to help. It will not change in helping the scorpion.”

So the man thought for a while and used a leaf from a nearby tree and pulled the scorpion out from the water and saved it’s life.

MORAL LESSON:

Do not change your nature. Do not let others make you what you are not, If someone hurts you, just take precautions.

Some pursue happiness while others create it. Let your conscience be your guide in whatever you do.

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A letter from Abee
- Fathima Sadiki
All rights reserved@Allah's presence

Dearest son,
I know you are doing well. I always add you in my duas. Inshah ALLAH! He will guide you on the right path. I suffer each and every time when i remember your kids. Facing the pain is unexplainable my boy, it is like some kind of an iron branding me forcefully on the chest. He might be an energetic young boy now i hope. My eyes weakens day by day expecting your little family at my doorstep.

My little boy, do you remember... We used to walk down the sand paths through Ali uncles farm,, ah how much you loved his milking cows and you fed them too, how greedily they ate, my brave little boy. You were my chatter box. How beautiful those days were. Weren't they? And,do you remember,you always slipped while we were walking beside the paddy field. each time your Ummi had blamed you when she saw you with the mud till it gave a smile to my face.
Everything has changed now my boy. No more sand paths, nor Ali uncles milking cows nor Ali uncle either. His son Abdullah took him to Colombo along with him. Your Abee has no one to share any single feeling. After your ummis mayyath i've been so alone and only thing that i have is the loving memories of you.

Every time when i go to the Masjid leaning on the stick, my mind runs to those days which i would take you to the Masjid keeping you on my shoulders, proudly.. but your Abee is not that strong now my boy.
" It is your fault you sent him far away!" Sometimes my inner voice blames me but no my dear, I wanted to see my boy winning the world, the world that your Abee gave up ages ago. I too got a chance but i could not console my mind to leave you and your Ummi alone. My world ,my life gathered around my little family. I was happy seeing your innocent face. even after shattering my dreams. I saw the same dreams shining in your eyes. I was so happy my boy i let you go and win the race without thinking twice. It gave me an innocent feeling of pride. how many times i had had mutterd "My boy is winning the race Alhamdulillah...." your Abee has been able to feel how happy you are and my loneliness vanishes when i think that you are happy in your life. But now i have only one dream and i plead to Allah coz i don't want to see it shatter. i want to see my boy's family before i go to the endless sleep.

Ammar might be 20 now isn't he? I still remember the smile at the very first time as I held him in my hands. It was as if i was flying and how many dreams gathered in my hear back then. I wanted to take him to every nook and corner of the village as i carried you on my shoulders. But you left your Abee alone when just Ammar started to call me grandpaa. I had nothing to be done and i just saw you walking toward your dream along with your family. You did not notice the tears which danced in your Abee's eyes and you had been blind with your loads of happiness and you didn't care your Abee,, not a single regret from you towards me. And little Ammar had that feeling the warmth of his tiny hugs are still safe here in my heart. you promised me you will return soon. but it remained just a word dear. You haven't visited me ever. you know what, i couldn't swallow the lump which got stuck in my throat when i saw the van you hired disappear from my eye sight.... please come to see your poor Abee for one last time. Waiting so long to see you.

You know my boy this one too is going to be hidden in the old table drawer as other letters which I have written before. I don't want to make you uncomfortable by posting my tearful letters to you. Don't spoil your dreams my boy. Come to see your Abee whenever you wish to. but please do come before i close my eyes forever. My boy you will be coming to carry your Abee's janasa on your shoulders won't you?
your loving Abee...

Kaleel suddenly fell down to the ground crushing the letter on his right hand. He shed tears. It wasn't enough fortune not only to carry his Abees janasa but also to see his Abee's innocent smile. He felt for a second 'i have been running behind a worthless dream,, why haven't I had a feeling of him ' He again pulled the drawer madly and he read all the letters which his loving father had written. He started to cry again pulling his hair with both hands. His tears scattered on the broken surface..." Abee" Ammar who was watching everything silently with an unrevealed pain kept his arm on Kaleel's shoulder. Kaleel trembled and turned his face to see who was it. And suddenly his tears dried up and his fearful eyes stopped in front of Ammar reminding him "is it my turn now....?"

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When a hurricane touched down in a small town nearby, many families were left devastated. Afterward, all the local newspapers carried many human interest stories featuring some of the families who suffered the hardest. One Sunday, a particu


lar picture especially touched me. A young woman stood in front of a totally demolished mobile home, an anguished expression twisting her features. A young boy, seven or eight years old, stood at her side, eyes downcast. Clutching at her skirt was a tiny girl who stared into the camera, eyes wide with confusion and fear. The article that accompanied the picture gave the clothing sizes of each family member. With growing interest, I noticed that their sizes closely matched ours. This would be a good opportunity to teach my children to help those less fortunate than themselves.
I taped the picture of the young family to our refrigerator, explaining their plight to my seven-year-old twins, Mohammad and Abdullah , and to three-year-old Ayesha. "We have so much, and these poor people now have nothing," I said. "We'll share what we have with them."








I brought three large boxes down from the attic and placed them on the living room floor. Ayesha watched solemnly as the boys and I filled one of the boxes with canned goods and other nonperishable foods, soap and other assorted toiletries. While I sorted through our clothes, I encouraged the boys to go through their toys and donate some of their less favorite things. Ayesha watched quietly as the boys piled up discarded toys and games. "I'll help you find something for the little girl when I'm done with this," I said.

The boys placed the toys they had chosen to donate into one of the boxes while I filled the third box with clothes. Ayesha walked up with Fulla, her worn, faded, frazzled, much-loved rag doll hugged tightly to her chest. She paused in front of the box that held the toys, pressed her round little face into Fulla's flat, painted-on-face, gave her a final kiss, then laid her gently on top of the other toys. "Oh, Honey," I said. Ayesha nodded solemnly, eyes glistening withheld-back tears. "Fulla makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she'll make that other little girl happy, too."








Swallowing hard, I stared at Ayesha for a long moment, wondering how I could teach the boys the lesson she had just taught me. For I suddenly realized that anyone can give their cast-offs away. True generosity is giving that which you cherish most. Honest benevolence is a three-year-old offering a treasured, albeit shabby doll to a little girl she doesn't know with the hope that it will bring this child as much pleasure as it brought her.
I, who had wanted to teach, had been taught.

If I fasted everyday for the rest of my life, I still wouldn't feel the amount of suffer I see in this picture

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WHAT A BEAUTIFUL STORY, SUBHAN'ALLAH:

"Dr. Saeed, a well-known doctor, was once on his way to an important medical conference in another city in which he was going to be granted an award for medical research he had recently done. He could


barely contain his excitement on his way to the airport and couldn’t wait until he arrived at the conference. He had worked long and hard on his research and felt his efforts deserved the award he was about to obtain. However, an hour after the plane took off, the pilot announced that there was a problem with the plane and that they were going to make an emergency landing at the nearest airport.

Afraid that he wouldn’t make it in time for the conference, the doctor ran to the information desk as soon as the plane landed and explained to the woman at the desk that he was expected to be at a very important conference and that he needed to find another way to get to his destination. She told him that there was nothing she could do to help him as there wouldn’t be another flight to his destination for another sixteen hours; but suggested he rent a car and drive down to the city as it was only three hours away. Having no other choice, the doctor agreed to the idea despite his hatred for driving long distances.




The doctor rented a car and started his journey. However, soon after he left, the weather suddenly changed and a heavy storm began. The pouring rain made it very difficult for him to see and he missed a turn he was supposed to take. After two hours of driving, he was convinced he was lost. Driving in the heavy rain on a deserted road, feeling hungry and tired, he frantically began to look for any sign of civilization. After some time, he finally came across a dark tiny cottage. Desperate, he got out of the car and knocked on the door.

A small elderly woman opened the door for him. He explained his situation and asked if he could use her telephone. She told him that she didn’t have a phone or electricity but that he was welcome to come in for some food and something warm to drink as he had completely lost his way and that it would take him some time to get back on the right road. Hungry, wet and exhausted, the doctor accepted her kind offer and walked in. The woman told him to help himself to some food and hot tea on the table and then excused herself to finish her prayers.

Sitting on the table sipping his tea, the doctor watched the woman in the dim light of the candles as she prayed next to what appeared to be a small baby crib. Every time she finished a prayer, she would start another one, and she seemed to be engrossed in making du`a’ while in sujood (prostration). Every now and then she would rock the crib gently.








Feeling that the woman might be in need of help, the doctor seized the opportunity to speak as soon as she finished one of her prayers and told her that he hoped Allah (swt) would answer her du`a’s. He then said that he noticed that she had been making a lot of du`a’ and asked if there was something she needed that he could get for her or help her with. The woman smiled and said that ALLAH (swt) had answered all her prayers except for one. She said she didn’t know why Allah (swt) hadn’t answered this specific prayer yet but perhaps it was because of her weak iman (faith).

The doctor asked if she didn’t mind telling him what she was making the du`a’ for. Nodding her head in approval, she said that the child in the crib was her grandson and that both his parents had recently died in a car accident. She said that the child had a very rare type of cancer and that all the doctors she had seen were unable to treat him. She also said that she had been told that there was a doctor who specialized in the type of cancer her grandson had, but there was no way for her to get to this doctor as he lived very far from her; so she has been spending her days and nights praying and making du`a’ that Allah (swt) helps her find a way to get to Dr. Saeed—the doctor who could treat her grandson.

Upon hearing her words, tears began to flow down the doctor’s cheeks and he said: ‘Subhan’Allah (glory be to God), there was a malfunction in the plane, a thunderstorm hit, and I lost my way; and all of this happened because Allah (swt) did not just answer your prayer by helping you find a way to get to Dr. Saeed, but he brought Dr. Saeed to your house. I am Dr. Saeed.’








With tears streaming down her cheeks, the woman raised her hands in du`a’ and said: ‘Oh Allah, how great and merciful You are!’"

[[May ALLAH reward brother Salman Quader for sharing this beautiful story with us, ameen]]








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Truly Inspiring Real Life Story!!!

! a lady 83 years old who lives at pali in West Bengal.
Every
evening she comes from Pali to kolkata to sell the
fries.The pedestrians out of
respect buy the fries from her. After lung cancer took
away her only son from her 5 years back,to make ends meet she
works.Her nephew aged 30
works as a mover on meagre wages in pali.
.
When asked if she has a problem
in travelling,she weakly smile ans says “No,the bus gets me here and my
health is not that bad”.
.
She earns 400 rupees per day but still it is less for her
family of
four.Circumstances could have easily forced her to beg but her dignity and
respect is everything for her,she would work till the
end of her life rather than
beg on the streets.
.
When we go on complaining, let us remember her….. she has chose to solve
her problems on her own for as they say God helps
them those who help
themselves.
.
Wonderful woman, May god give her all the strength…
She truly is an inspiration for all of us ….

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There was a man who had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn to not judge things too quickly. So he sent them each on a quest, in turn, to go and look at a pear tree that was a great distance away.

The first son went in the winter, the second in the spring, the third in summer, and the youngest son in the fall.

When they had all gone and come back, he called them together to describe what they had seen.

The first son said that the tree was ugly, bent, and twisted.

The second son said no – it was covered with green buds and full of promise.

The third son disagreed, he said it was laden with blossoms that smelled so sweet and looked so beautiful, it was the most graceful thing he had ever seen.

The last son disagreed with all of them; he said it was ripe and drooping with fruit, full of life and fulfilment.

The man then explained to his sons that they were all right, because they had each seen but one season in the tree’s life.

He told them that you cannot judge a tree, or a person, by only one season, and that the essence of who they are – and the pleasure, joy, and love that come from that life – can only be measured at the end, when all the seasons are up.

If you give up when it’s winter, you will miss the promise of your spring, the beauty of your summer, fulfilment of your fall.

Don’t judge a life by one difficult season. Don’t let the pain of one season destroy the joy of all the rest.





The Professor began his class by holding up a glass with some water in it.
He held it up for all to see & asked the students "How much do you think
this glass weighs?"
'50gms!'..... '100gms!' .....'125gms' ...the students answered.
"I really don't know unless I weigh it," said the professor, "but, my
question is:
What would happen if I held it up like this for a few minutes?"
'Nothing' ...the students said.
'Ok what would happen if I held it up like this for an hour?' the professor
asked.
'Your arm would begin to ache' said one student.
"You're right, now what would happen if I held it for a day?"
"Your arm could go numb; you might have severe muscle stress & paralysis &
have to go to hospital for sure!"
... ventured another student & all the students laughed "Very good.But during all this, did the weight of the glass change?" Asked the
professor.
'No'.. Was the answer.
"Then what caused the arm ache & the muscle stress?"
The students were puzzled.
"What should I do now to come out of pain?" asked professor again.
"Put d glass down!"said one of d students "Exactly!"said the
professor.
Life's problems are something like this.
Hold it 4 a few min in your head & dey seem OK.
Think of them for a long time & they begin to ache.
Hold it even longer & they begin to paralyze u. You will not be able to do

anything.
It's important to think of d challenges or problems in your life, Bt EVEN
MORE IMPORTANT is to 'PUT THEM DOWN' at the end of every day b4 you go
to sleep...
That way,u r nt stressed,u wake up every day fresh &strng & can
handle any issue, any challenge that comes yr way!
So,when you start your day today, Remember friend to 'PUT THE GLASS DOWN

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———————————— The Burnt Biscuits –————————
—————————— Small Story with a Moral ————————

When I was a kid, my mom would prepare special breakfast every now and then. And I remember one night in particular, after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad.

... I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that biscuit and eat every bite!
When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I’ll never forget what he said: Honey, I love burned biscuits.
Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned.
He wrapped me in his arms and said, Your Momma put in a hard day at work today and she’s real tired. And besides – a little burnt biscuit never hurt anyone! You know, life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people. I’m not the best at hardly anything, and I make so many mistakes forget to congratulate people on their special occasions.

What I’ve learned over the years is that learning to accept each others faults – and choosing to celebrate each others differences – is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.

. And that’s my prayer for you today. That you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life but always have trust in God. Because in the end, He’s the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt... biscuit isn’t a deal-breaker!
We could extend this to any relationship. In fact, understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!
Don’t put the key to your happiness in someone else’s pocket – keep it in your own.

So Please pass Us a biscuit, and yes, the burnt one will do just fine.!.




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A SHORT STORY

: A young man in a village refused to believe that ALLAH has total control of everything. He claimed that Allah cannot make him eat food if he didn't want to eat. To prove his point, he decided to stay hungry for a day and see if ALLAH can make him eat.

His mother tried her best to stop this foolishness but he paid no attention. Annoyed of his mother in the evening, he decided to climb a tree and isolate himself there. Being compassionate, his mother decided to leave the food under the tree incase her son finally gives up and wants to eat. When the night fell, a group of robbers were passing by that tree. They noticed a plate of delicious food placed under the tree.
They looked at each other in amazement and thought that someone must be playing a trick on them. May be someone is trying to poison them with good food. They looked around to see if there was anyone nearby and noticed the young man on top of the tree.

The robbers got him down and told him to eat the food to see if it is poisoned. But the young man refused to eat as he is still carrying on his challenge against ALLAH. The robbers became suspicious and started beating the young man to eat. He gave up and started eating.

Seeing that the food was not poisoned, the robbers left him and went away. Finally, the young man admitted that yes, ALLAH has total control of everything.




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Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face, lopsided from swelling, red and raw.

Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning."

He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments..."

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning."

I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.

He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.

At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch.

He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind." I told him he was welcome to come again.

And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning.

As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden.

Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious.

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning.

"Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!"

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear.

I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend, who has a greenhouse, as she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"

My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden."

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."

All this happened long ago - and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.


—



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There were two brothers, who grew up together in a family. First one was a successful school principal, very disciplined and organized. He was respected by students & teachers alike. When asked about the reason for his success, he replied, " It's all because of my father. He was a disciplinarian & never tolerated breaking of any rules. I worked out my own ways to ensure that I don't give him any reason to complain. I owe my success to him."

The other brother turned out to be a ruffian who didn't have any job & ended up in jail many times. When asked about the reason for this behaviour, he replied, " It's all because of my father. He was a great tyrant & authoritarian & never tolerated any of my mistake. One day I couldn't take it any more, rebeled & left my house. He is responsible for destroying my life."

Our life is made of 10% what happens to us, over which we have no control and 90% how we react to it. However, normally we blame our circumstances (which is just 10%) for all our problems.




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My mother used to ask me what the most important part of the body is.
Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct Answer.

When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, 'My ears, Mommy.'

She said, 'No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon.'

Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer.

So this time I told her, 'Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes.'

She looked at me and told me, 'You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind.'

Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years,
Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, 'No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child.'

Then one year, my grandfather died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried.

I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry.
My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final good-bye to my Grandfather.

She asked me, 'Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?'
I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me.

She saw the confusion on my face and told me, 'This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in your life.
For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you were wrong and I have given you an example why.

But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson.'
She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said,
'My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder.'

I asked, 'Is it because it holds up my head?'

She replied, 'No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry.
Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, my dear. I only hope that you have enough love and friends
that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it.'


Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is made for others and not for yourself. It is sympathetic to the pain of others.

People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did .. But people will NEVER forget how you made them feel.

Good friends are like stars...
You don't always see them, but you always know they are there.




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