Tag Archives: Nigel Alston

Do it anyway . . .

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People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest person with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest person with the smallest mind. Think big anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack if you help them. Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you might get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you’ve got anyway.”

Dr. Kent M. Keith
American Author and Inspirational Speaker

Consider this: Are you living a paradoxical life?

The Cracked Pot . . .

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The Cracked Pot
Author Unknown

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on the end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots was perfectly made and never leaked. The other pot had a crack in it and by the time the water bearer reached his master’s house it had leaked much of it’s water and was only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.” “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We’re all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, God will use our flaws to grace his table. In God’s great economy, nothing goes to waste. Don’t be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.

Consider this: Appreciate who you are.

The Cleaning Lady . . .

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The Cleaning Lady
Joanne C. Jones

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: “What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?”

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank.

Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say ‘Hello’.”

I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

Consider this: People matter. Who have you overlooked today?

Keepers . . .

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Keepers
Author Unknown

I grew up in the ’50s with very practical parents. A mother, God love her,who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it.

My father was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the other.

It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there’d always be more.

But then my mother died, and on that clear summer’s night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn’t any more. Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away…never to return. So, while we have it… it’s best we love it… and care for it… and fix it when it’s broken… and heal it when it’s sick.

This is true for marriage… and old cars… and children with bad report cards… and dogs with bad hips… and aging parents… and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.

Consider this: care for what you have before it is all used up.

The Real Meaning Of Peace . . .

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The Real Meaning Of Peace
Author Unknown

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 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 lightning played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all.

But when the king looked closely, 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 – in perfect peace.

Which picture do you think won the prize? The king chose the second picture. Do you know why?

“Because,” explained 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.”

Consider this: Have you experienced real peace?

The trouble tree . . .

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The Trouble Tree
Author Unknown

The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.

On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.

“Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he replied.” I know I can’t help having troubles on the job, but one thing’s for sure, troubles don’t belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again.”

He paused. “Funny thing is,” he smiled, “when I come out in the morning to pick ’em up, there ain’t nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.”

Consider this: How do you handle your troubles?

Embrace your humanity today . . .

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One of the most spiritual things you can do is embrace your humanity. Connect with those around you today. Say “I love you”, “I’m sorry”, “I appreciate you”, “I’m proud of you”…whatever you’re feeling. Send random texts, write a cute note, embrace your truth and share it…cause a smile today for someone else…and give plenty of hugs.

— Steve Maraboli

How to walk . . .

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How to Walk

walking

We have forgotten how to walk. All we do is go places.

A proper walk doesn’t have a destination. Gwyn Thomas put it this way, “But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.”

Those who truly walk don’t sweat. Lacing up walking shoes during lunch is exercise, not walking. Walking is meandering and kicking stones.

Bad walks reflect what you’re escaping, they’re fast, pushing, even angry. But you can’t stay angry and stroll at the same time.

Breakthroughs:

I’ve fallen out of the habit of walking with leaders. Now I sit and sip, rather than walk. I’ve forgotten that breakthroughs find us on walks.

Nietzsche said, “All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.” But, people who never walk only regurgitate old thoughts.

A walk without stopping isn’t a walk. When you really walk, you stop and gawk. You point. Wonder finds those who know how to walk. The rest of us understand the mechanics. But, we’ve lost the mystery.

“It was easier to think if I was walking and doing something or seeing people doing something that they understood.” Ernest Hemingway

Connecting:

I remembered the walk I took with my wife, before her visit with our daughter and grandchildren in Lancaster, PA. She was gone overnight. The day before she left, we held hands and walked over the hill and back. I don’t remember what we talked about. I remember how good it felt.

Grownups say, “come on.” But, children know how to walk. They forget where they’re going. Children say, “Look! A dead worm! Isn’t this rock pretty? Why is the sidewalk cracked?”

Suggestion:

Could you give yourself 20 minutes a week to walk – but not go anywhere? If you’re fortunate, you’ll remember the purpose of a real walk is just taking it.

From – Leadership Freak

Consider this: When is the last time you took a “walk”?

What do you remember . . . ?

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Because we do not know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well and yet everything happens only a certain number of times – and a very small number really. How many times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your life that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more? Perhaps not even that. How many times will you watch the full moon rise, perhaps twenty, and yet it all seems so limitless…

Paul Bowles 1910-1999
American Writer and Composer

Consider this: What do you remember that you can’t conceive of your life without it?

You Sure Are Lucky . . .

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You Sure Are Lucky…
Ken Morris – Northwest Airlines Captain
Reprinted with permission from Passages Magazine

It was a hot, muggy August afternoon, and I had every reason to feel sorry for myself. A comedy of hassles began with the normal airport security gauntlet, followed by a random drug test, and a missed flight home due to a number of mechanical, weather and late inbound flight problems. Now my flight home was full and late.

During the usual pandemonium at the gate, I noticed a 5-year-old boy standing by his mother and watching me. He looked at me, then my bag, then back at me.

Cautiously, he left his mother’s side and slowly began to walk toward me, glancing between my bag, his mother, and me.

“Great,” I thought, “now I have to baby-sit a 5-year-old. My day is now complete.”

As he came closer, I was both relieved and alarmed that it wasn’t me he was after. It was my hat!

I started to tell him not to bother my things, but something made me stop and watch. He stopped in front of my bag, looking at my hat, then up at me.

With wide eyes, he gently touched the bill of my hat. Running his index finger slowly along the edge, carefully touching the emblem.

Again, he looked up at me, now smiling, but saying nothing. I asked him if he would like to wear my captain hat.

He excitedly nodded his head, still smiling. I placed my hat on his head, but it fell down around his ears. He didn’t seem to mind and held it up in the proper position with both hands. He ran to show his mother, then back to me still smiling from ear to ear.

With much reverence and ceremony, he slowly removed my hat with both hands and presented it to me as though it were the crown jewels.

I put my hat on and gave him an airplane card. This, too, he held with both hands in awe.

After this exchange, he still hadn’t spoken, although I knew he was excited. I also was happy that I had been briefly distracted from my self-pity fest.

Still holding the card carefully with both hands, he looked up at me and said, “Mister, you sure are lucky.”

“Yes,” I said, “I sure am.”

I contemplated the wisdom of a 5-year-old, as I got the last seat on that flight home.

Consider this: Whatever you are going through, you sure are lucky!