Once there was a man who thought to cross America on foot.
He bought a map of the USA and carefully plotted out his course.
He would take the back roads and walk from morning till night,
viewing the beautiful land all around him as he went, stopping
at wayside inns and spending the night, rising the next morning
to begin his journey again.

On the morning of the beginning of his journey, he walked
outside on his porch and viewed the beautiful sunrise.

As he headed back into his house, his foot caught on a loose
board and a splinter wedged in the ball of his right foot.
The man sat down and lifted his foot and yelled at the splinter,
"Out! Get out of my foot! Out, I say!"

Rising, he went inside and finished preparing for his journey.
Heavy socks and thick walking shoes were to be his protection
against the hard earth. T-shirt and shorts would be his main
clothing. A backpack with a change of clothes and trail mix, a
map and plans for the trip, identification and a first aid kit
along with various other items completed his gear. A full belly
and plenty of sunscreen and he was off on his journey.

The man had not gone very far from home when he started to limp.
The splinter seemed to grow larger and larger. But the man was
determined and continued on his way.

That night he stopped at a little Bed and Breakfast Inn and got
a room for the night. After eating supper at a local diner, he
prepared for the morning before going to sleep. Finishing his
shower, the man sat on the side of his bed, lifted his right
foot and yelled at the splinter, "Out! Get out of my foot!
Out, I say!" And then he went to bed.

The following morning, the man rose up and started dressing for
the day. He lifted his foot and yelled at the splinter, "Out!
Get out of my foot! Out, I say!" Then he renewed his journey.

The sun rose with a spectacular view as the world shimmered
awake, but the man limped by with his eyes on his right foot,
glancing up only now and then, missing a lot of the views.

The roadside bloomed in wonderful shades of blues, greens, reds,
yellows, purples, oranges and burgundies. Rabbits hopped and
deer cropped in the fields all around. The birds sang and flew
all around the man, but he was unaware. The splinter was bigger
now, of that he was sure, as big as a two by four or maybe
more.

The sunset came that evening in glorious hues of purples, reds,
oranges and blues, but the man did not notice. He focused on the
painful throbbing of his right foot.

His mornings and nights started rolling together as the splinter
grew and grew and grew, and his limp got bigger and bigger and
bigger. His views got smaller and smaller as he focused more and
more on his right foot.

Each morning and each night, the man would lift his foot and yell
at the splinter, "Out! Get out of my foot! Out, I say!"

Halfway across America he went, inch by painful inch. Finally he
could stand it no longer, caught a bus and went home.

Calling his best friend along the way to tell him he was coming
home, the man settled into the swaying of the bus. Every so
often, he would take off his right shoe, remove his right sock
and yell at the splinter, "Out! Get out of my foot! Out, I say!"

Home at last, the man limped down his driveway to find his best
friend waiting for him on his doorstep. All excited, his friend
asked him about what he had seen, where he had gone and what he
had done.

The man had nothing to tell him but the splinter that was lodged
in his right foot. It hurt so much that he didn't feel like
looking at the view. It hurt so much that he didn't feel like
walking, much less going anywhere special. It hurt so much that
he didn't feel like doing anything exciting. It hurt so much
that he came home with his journey incomplete.

Then his friend asked the man,

"Why didn't you remove the splinter?"

So many times in life, we let splinters get in our way.
Instead of removing them and enjoying the rest of our journey,
we simply yell at them thinking they will respond to our
complaining and fussing. Then we cut the trip short.

What splinters do you carry?

~Author Unknown~

A Church goer wrote a letter to the editor of a newspaper and
complained that it made no sense to go to church every Sunday.
"I've gone for 30 years now," he wrote, "and in that time I have heard
something like 3,000 sermons.

But for the life of me, I can't remember a single one of them. So, I
think I'm wasting my time and the pastors are wasting theirs by giving
sermons at all."

This started a real controversy in the "Letters to the Editor" column,
much to the delight of the editor.

It went on for weeks until someone wrote this clincher: "I've been
married for 30 years now. In that time my wife has cooked some 32,000
meals. But, for the life of me, I cannot recall the entire menu for a
single one of those meals.

But I do know this... They all nourished me and gave me the strength I
needed to do my work. If my wife had not given me these meals, I would
be! physically dead today.

Likewise, if I had not gone to church for nourishment, I would be
spiritually dead today!" When you are DOWN to nothing.... God is UP to
something! Faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible and
receives the impossible! Thank God for our physical AND our spiritual
nourishment!

The Lord is my real boss, and I shall not want.
He gives me peace, when chaos is all around me.
He gently reminds me to pray and do all things without
murmuring and complaining.

He reminds me that he is my source and not my job.
He restores my sanity everyday and guides my decisions
that I might honor him in all that I do.

Even though I face absurd amounts of e-mails, system
crashes, unrealistic deadlines, budget cutbacks, gossiping
co-workers, discriminating supervisors and an aging body
that doesn't cooperate every morning, I still will not stop---
for He is with me! His presence, His peace, and His power
will see me through.

He raises me up, even when they fail to promote me.
He claims me as His own, even when the company threatens
to let me go. His Faithfulness and love is better than any bonus

check.

His retirement plan beats every 401k there is!
When it's all said and done, I'll be working for Him a whole lot

longer and for that, I BLESS HIS NAME!!!!!!

Story Number One:

Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago.
Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for
enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and
prostitution to murder.

Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie." He was his lawyer
for a good reason. Eddie was very good! In fact, Eddie's skill
at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of Jail for a long time.
To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well.

Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends.
For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion
with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day.

The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City
block. Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave
little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him.

Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he
loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had the best
of everything: clothes, cars and a good education. Nothing was
withheld. Price was no object.

And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even
tried to teach him right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be
a better man than he was. Yet, with all his wealth and
influence, there were two things he couldn't give his son; that
he couldn't pass on a good name and a good example.

One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision.

Easy Eddie Wanted to rectify wrongs he had done. He decided he
would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al
"Scarface" Capone, clean up his tarnished name and offer his son
some semblance of integrity.

To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he
knew that the cost would be great. So, he testified.

Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire
on a lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes, he had given his
son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he
would ever pay.

Story Number Two:

World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant
Commander Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to the
aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was
airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone
had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have
enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship.
His flight leader told him to return to the carrier.

Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the
fleet. As he was returning to the mother ship he saw something
that turned his blood cold.

A squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding their way toward
the American fleet. The American fighters were gone on a
sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn't
reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the
fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.

There was only one thing to do.
He must somehow divert them from the fleet.

Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the
formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed
as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then
another.

Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at
as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally
spent. Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dived at the
planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as
many enemy planes as possible and rendering them unfit to fly.

Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another
direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered
fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival he reported in
and related the event surrounding his return.

The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale.
It showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his
fleet. He had in fact destroyed five enemy aircraft.

This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch
became the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval
Aviator to win the Congressional Medal of Honor.

A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29.

His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to
fade, and today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute
to the courage of this great man.

So the next time you find yourself at O'Hare International, give
some thought to visiting Butch's memorial displaying his statue
and his Medal of Honor. It's located between Terminals 1 and 2.

SO WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH OTHER?

Butch O'Hare was Easy Eddie's son.

In Order to Download this Information into Your System
you need to open your Mind and Heart.

How to be Happy:
Stop Complaining
Stop Blaming
Stop Judging
Stop Worrying
Stop Worrying about Worrying
Stop Putting Yourself Down
Stop Anticipating Trouble
Stop It!
Stop and Listen
Stop and Look
Stop and Feel
Stop and Smile

Start Life Now
Start Listening
Start Looking
Start Feeling
Start Smiling
Start Loving
Start Loving Yourself
Start Feeling Grateful
Start to be More Adventurous
Start to do the Things You Want to Do
Stop taking anything seriously
Start seeing the light side of everything
Start Having Fun