The Praying Hands

                 The Praying Hands

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

                                     

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late."

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
                                           

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."

Moral: The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - ever makes it alone!


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Who can Hurt you?

Who can Hurt you

```When Abraham Lincoln became the president of America, his father was a shoemaker. 

And, naturally, egoistic people were very much offended that a shoemaker’s son should become the president.
                                             

On the first day, as Abraham Lincoln entered to give his inaugural address, just in the middle, one man stood up.  He was a very rich aristocrat. 

He said, “Mr. Lincoln, you should not forget that your father used to make shoes for my family.” 

And the whole Senate laughed; they thought that they had made a fool of Abraham Lincoln.```

But certain people are made of a totally different mettle.

```Lincoln looked at the man directly in the eye and said,``` “Sir, I know that my father used to make shoes for your family, and there will be many others here because he made shoes the way nobody else can.

He was a creator.

His shoes were not just shoes; he poured his whole soul into them. I want to ask you, have you any complaint?

Because I know how to make shoes myself. If you have any complaint I can make you another pair of shoes.

But as far as I know, nobody has ever complained about my father’s shoes. He was a genius, a great creator and I am proud of my father”.

```The whole Senate was struck dumb. They could not understand what kind of man Abraham Lincoln was.
                                             

He was proud because his father did his job so well, with so much enthusiasm, such a passion, and perfection.

It does not matter what you do.

What matters is how you do it – of your own accord, with your own vision, with your own love.

Then whatever you touch becomes gold.```

Moral: ```No one can hurt you without your consent. It is not what happens to us that hurts us. It is our response that hurts us.```

“Ships don’t sink because of the water around them; ships sink because of the water that gets in them. Don’t let what’s happening around you get inside you and weigh you down”





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The Giving Tree

The Giving Tree

Once upon a time, there lived a big mango tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the tree top, ate the mangoes, took a nap under the shadow… He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time went by, The little boy grew, and he no longer played around the tree.
                                         

One day, the boy came back to the tree with a sad look on his face. “Come and play with me,” the tree asked the boy. “I am no longer a kid, I don’t play around trees anymore.” The boy replied, “I want toys. I need money to buy them.” “Sorry, I don’t have money… but you can pick all my mangoes and sell them so you will have money.” The boy was so excited. He picked all the mangoes on the tree and left happily. The boy didn’t come back. The tree was sad.

One day, the boy grown into a man returned. The tree was so excited. “Come and play with me,” the tree said. “I don’t have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?” “Sorry, I don’t have a house, but you can chop off my branches to build your house.” So the man cut all the branches off the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy didn’t come back afterward. The tree was again lonely and sad.
                                         

One hot summer day, the man returned and the tree was delighted. “Come and play with me!” The tree said. “I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?” “Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy.” So the man cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and didn’t come back for a long time.

Finally, the man returned after he had been gone for so many years. “Sorry, my boy, but I don’t have anything for you anymore. No more mangoes to give you.” The tree said. “I don’t have teeth to bite,” the man replied. “No more trunk for you to climb on.” “I am too old for that now,” the man said.

“I really can’t give you anything, the only thing left is my dying roots,” the tree said with sadness. “I don’t need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years,” the man replied. “Good! Old tree roots are the best place to lean on and rest. Come sit down with me and rest.” The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled.

                                            
                                             

The tree in the story represents our parents. When we are young, we love to play with them. When we grow up, we leave them and only come back when we need help. Parents sacrifice their lives for us. Never Forget their sacrifices. Give them Love and Care before its too late.





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Faith can Move the Mountain

                                                          Faith can Move the Mountain

In the country of Armenia, in 1988, Samuel and Danielle sent their young son, Armand, off to school. Samuel squatted before his son and looked him in the eye. "Have a good day at school, and remember, no matter what, I’ll always be there for you." They hugged and the boy ran off to school.

Hours later, a powerful earthquake rocked the area. In the midst of the pandemonium, Samuel and Danielle tried to discover what happened to their son but they couldn’t get any information. The radio announced that there were thousands of casualties.  Samuel then grabbed his coat and headed for the schoolyard. When he reached the area, what he saw brought tears to his eyes. Armand’s school was a pile of debris. Other parents were standing around crying.

                                              

Samuel found the place where Armand’s classroom used to be and began pulling a broken beam off the pile of rubble.  He then grabbed a rock and put it to the side, and then grabbed another one.

One of the parents looking on asked, "What are you doing?"   "Digging for my son," Samuel answered. The man then said, "You’re just going to make things worse! The building is unstable," and tried to pull Samuel away from his work.

Samuel just kept working. As time wore on, one by one, the other parents left. Then a worker tried to pull Samuel away from the rubble.  Samuel looked at him and said, "Won’t you help me?"   The worker left and Samuel kept digging.

All through the night and into the next day, Samuel continued digging.  Parents placed flowers and pictures of their children on the ruins.  But, Samuel just kept working.  He picked up a beam and pushed it out of the way when he heard a faint cry. "Help! Help!"  Samuel listened but didn’t hear anything again.  Then he heard a muffled voice, "Papa?"

                                         

Samuel began to dig furiously.  Finally he could see his son.  "Come on out, son!" he said with relief.
"No," Armand said.  "Let the other kids come out first because I know you’ll get me."  Child after child emerged until, finally, little Armand appeared.  Samuel took him in his arms and Armand said, "I told the other kids not to worry because you told me that you’d always be there for me!"

Fourteen children were saved that day because one father was faithful.

LUV UR CHILDERN !!
THEIR FAITH CAN MOVE THE MOUNTAIN !!!!

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