what's really important in life

A professor teaches his students a lesson about what's really important in life.

 

 

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember this story about a mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee...

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor! next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous 'yes.'

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed. 'Now,' said the professor, as the laughter subsided, ' I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.

The golf balls are the important things-your God, family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions-things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car. The sand is everything else-the small stuff.

'If you put the sand into the jar first,' he continued, 'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important.'

So, pay attention to the things that are most important. Take care of your health--cook with your kids!-- spend time with those you love.

There's always time to clean the house--it's a never ending job anyway :

Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

Wondering what the coffee represents?

No matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple cups of coffee with a friend--or a soda if you're like me and don't drink coffee!! - :

 

JUST 37 SECONDS

It will take just 37 seconds to read this story............ 

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. 

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon

to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room's only window.  

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.  

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. 

Every afternoon,  when the man in the bed by the window could sit up,

he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things

he could see outside the window.
 
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods

where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity

and color of the world outside. 
 
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.

Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their

model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of

every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen

in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the

man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine

this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade

passing by.
 
Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it

in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it

with descriptive words. 

Days, weeks and months passed. 
 
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths

only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

 

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take

the body away. 

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could

be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch,

and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his

first look at the real world outside.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.   
 
It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his

deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things

outside this window.
 
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even

see the wall. 

She said, 'Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.' 

 Epilogue:  

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite

our own situations. 

Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.. 
 
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that

money can't  buy. 

'Today is a gift, that is why it is called   The Present.'

Animals Are Parents Too

I want to let you know about an event that changed my life many years ago. It is a memory that periodically comes and goes, but it is one of the most precious memories that my wife and me share. I am thankful that we can remember it together. It is a reminder that things are not what they seem and that angels come in many packages.

 

We live in College Station, Texas and we were on our way home from Houston, Texas around the Weston Lakes area one Saturday or Sunday morning. And when I say morning, I'm talking 1:00 to 2:00 in the morning. We were on our way home and decided to stop at a local gas station to get coffee and something to snack on since it was a good hour and a half before we got home.

 

When we were done, we got back into our car and before I started it, we noticed a man standing outside in front of the building. You could tell that he was a homeless man. His clothes were tattered and worn and it looked like he had gone in and gotten him some coffee or something warm to drink since it was cold this time of the year. He must have not had enough money to get something to eat. That is not something I remember too well, because that is not what "moved" me.

 

The next thing I remember is a dog that walked up to the front of the building. Being a dog lover, I noticed that she was part wolf and probably part German shepherd. I could tell she was a she, because you could tell that she had been feeding puppies. She was terribly in need of something to eat and I felt so bad for her. I knew if she didn't eat soon, she and her puppies would not make it.

 

My wife and me sat there and looked at her. We noticed that people walked by and did not even pet her, like most people do when they walk by an animal in front of a store. She might not have been as pretty and clean as most, but she still deserved better. But we still did not do anything. But someone did. The homeless man, who I thought did not buy himself anything to eat, went back into the store. And what he did brought tears to me and my wife. He had gone into the store and with what money he may have had, bought a can of dog food and fed that dog.

 

I know that this story is not as inspirational as most stories, but it plays a great part in our lives. You see, that was Mother's Day weekend. And a lot of people forget that some animals are parents too. And animals as well as us are God's creations too.

 

It would be a better story if I could remember all the details, but even without the details, I believe it still gets the message across. It took a homeless man, to show me what I should have done. He made me a better man that day.

 

The Coolest Dad in the Universe

He was 50 years old when I was born, and a "Mr. Mom" long before anyone had a name for it. I did not know why he was home instead of Mom, but I was young and the only one of my friends who had their dad around. I considered myself very lucky.

 

Dad did so many things for me during my grade-school years. He convinced the school bus driver to pick me up my house instead of the usual bus stop that was six blocks away. He always had my lunch ready for me when I came home - usually a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was shaped for the season. My favorite was at Christmas. The sandwiches would be sprinkled with green sugar and cut in the shape of a tree.

 

As I got a little older and tried to gain my independence, I wanted to move away from those "childish" signs of his love. But he wasn't going to give up. In high school and no longer able to go home for lunch, I began taking my own. Dad would get up a little early and make it for me. I never knew what to expect. The outside of the sack might be covered with his rendering of a mountain scene (it became his trademark) or a heart inscribed with "Dad-n-Angie K.K." in its center. Inside there would be a napkin with that same heart or an "I love you." Many times he would write a joke or a riddle, such as "Why don't they ever call it a momsicle instead of a popsicle?" He always had some silly saying to make me smile and let me know that he loved me.

 

I used to hide my lunch so no one would see the bag or read the napkin, but that did not last long. One of my friends saw the napkin one day, grabbed it, and passed it around the lunch room. My face burned with embarrassment. To my astonishment, the next day all my friends were waiting to see the napkin. From the way they acted, I think they all wished they had someone who showed them that kind of love. I was so proud to have him as my father. Throughout the rest of my high school years, I received those napkins, and still have a majority of them.

 

And still it didn't end. When I left home for college (the last one to leave), I thought the messages would stop. But my friends and I were glad that his gestures continued.

 

I missed seeing my dad every day after school and so I called him a lot. My phone bills got to be pretty high. It did not matter what we said; I just wanted to hear his voice. We started a ritual during that first year that stayed with us. After I said goodbye he always said, "Angie?"

 

"Yes, Dad?" I would reply.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad."

 

I began getting letters almost every Friday. The front-desk staff always knew who the letter were from - the return address said "The Hunk." Many times the envelopes were addressed in crayon, and along with the enclosed letters were usually drawings of our cat and dog, stick figures of him and Mom, and if I had been home the weekend before, of me racing around town with friends and using the house as a pit stop. He also had his mountain scene and the heart-encased inscription, Dad-n-Angie K.K.

 

The mail was delivered every day right before lunch, so I would have his letters with me when I went to the cafeteria. I realized it was useless to hide them because my roommate was a high school friend who knew about his napkins. Soon it became a Friday afternoon ritual. I would read the letters, and the drawing and envelope would be passed around.

 

It was during this time that Dad became stricken with cancer. When the letters did not come on Friday, I knew that he had been sick and was not able to write. He used to get up at 4:00a.m. so he could sit in the quiet house and do his letters. If he missed his Friday delivery, the letters would usually come a day or two later. But they always came. My friends used to call him "Coolest Dad in the Universe." And one day they sent him a card bestowing that title, signed by all of them. I believe he taught all of us about a father's love. I would not be surprised if my friends started sending napkins to their children. He left an impression that would stay with them and inspire them to give their own children their expression of their love.

 

Throughout my four years of college, the letters and phone calls came at regular intervals. But then the time came when I decided to come home and be with him because he was growing sicker, and I knew that our time together was limited. Those were the hardest days to go through. To watch this man, who always acted so young, age past his years. In the end he didn't recognize who I was and would call me the name of a relative he hadn't seen in many years. Even though I knew it was due to his illness, it still hurt that he could not remember my name.

 

I was alone with him in his hospital room a couple of days before he died. We held hands and watched TV. As I was getting ready to leave, he said, "Angie?"

 

"Yes, Dad?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad."