NO GOD

by: Author Unknown, inspirationalstories.com

A college student was in a philosophy class, where there was a class discussion about whether or not God exists,  The professor had the following logic:

"Has anyone in this class heard God?"  Nobody spoke.

"Has anyone in this class touched God?"  Again, nobody spoke.

"Has anyone in this class seen God?"  When nobody spoke for the third time he simple stated.  "Then there is no God."

The student did not like the sound of this at all, and asked for permission to speak.  The professor granted it, and the student stood up and asked the following questions of his classmates:

"Has anyone in this class heard our professor's brain?"

Silence.

"Has anyone in this class touched our professor's brain?"

Absolute silence.

"Has anyone in this class seen our professor's brain?"

When nobody in the class dared to speak, the student concluded, "Then, according to our professor's logic, it must be true that our professor has no brain!"

LESSONS LEARNED

by: Author Unknown, inspirationalstories.com

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.

On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad."

"Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked.

"Oh yeah," said the son.

"So, tell me. what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.

The son answered:  "I saw that we have one dog and they had four.  Whe have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have creek that has no end.  We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.  Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.

We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.

We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.  We buy our food, but they grow theirs.

We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them."

The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, "Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are."

HUMAN'S CAN LICK TOO

from: urbanlegendsonline.com

Once there was a beautiful young girl who lived in a small town just south of Farmersburg.  Her parents had to go to town for a while, so they left their daughter home alone, but protected by her dog, which was a very large collie.

The parents told the girl to lock all the windows and doors after they had left.  And at about 8:00pm the parents went to town.  So doing what she was told the girl shut and locked every window and every door.  But there was one window in the basement that would not close completely.

Trying as best as she could she finally got the window shut, but it would not lock.  So she left the window, and went back upstairs.  But just to make sure that no one could get in, she put the dead-bolt lock on the basement door.

Then she sat down had some dinner and decided to go to sleep for the night.  Settling down to sleep at about 12:00 she snuggled up with the dog and fell asleep.

But at one point, she suddenly woke up.  She turned and look at the clock... it was 2:30.  She snuggled down again wondering what had woken her... when she heard a noise.  It was a dripping sound.  She thought that she had left the water running, and now it was dripping into the drain of her sink.  So thinking it was no big deal she decided to go back to sleep.

But she felt nervous so she reached her hand over the edge of her bed, and let the dog lick her hand to feel safe, knowing he would protect her.  Again at about 3:45 she woke up hearing dripping.  She was slightly angry now but went back to sleep anyway.  Again she reached down and let the dog lick her hand.  Then she fell back to sleep.

At 6:52 the girl decided that she had enough... she got up just in time to see her parents were pulling up to the house.  "Good," she thought.  "Now somebody can fix the sink...  'cause I know I didn't leave it running."  She walked to the bathroom and there was the collie dog, skinned and hung up on the curtain rod.  The noise she heard was its blood dripping into a puddle on the floor.  The girl screamed and ran to her bedroom to get a weapon, in case someone was still in the house... and there on the floor, next to her bed she saw a small note, written in blood, saying:  HUMANS CAN LICK TOO MY BEAUTIFUL...

JUST FIVE MORE MINUTES

by: Author Unknown, inspirationalstories.com

While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground.

"That's my son over there," she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.

"He's fine looking boy" the man said.  "That's my daughter on the bike in the white dress."

Then, looking at his watch, he called to his daughter.  "What do you say we go, Melissa?"

Melissa pleaded, "Just five more minutes, Dad.  Please?  Just five more minutes."

The man nodded and Melissa continued to ride her bike to her heart's content.  Minutes passed and the father stood and  called again to his daughter.  "Time to go now?"

Again Melissa pleaded, "Five more minutes, Dad.  just five more minutes."

The man smiled and said, "Ok."

"My, you certainly are a patient father," the woman responded.

The man smiled and then said, "Her older brother Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was ridding his bike near hear.  I never spent much time with Tommy and now I'd give anything for just five more minutes with him.  I've vowed not to make the same mistake with Melissa.

She thinks she has five more minutes to ride her bike.  The truth is, I get Five more minutes to watch her play."

Life is all about making priorities, what are your priorities?

Give someone you love five more minutes of your time today!

ACORNS AND PUMPKINS

by: Author Unknown, More Sower's Seeds

An old poem describes a woman walking through a meadow, meditating on nature. While strolling about, she came upon a field of golden pumpkins. In the corner of the field stood a majestic, huge oak tree.

She sat under the oak tree musing on the strange twists in nature which put tiny acorns on huge branches and huge pumpkins on tiny vines. She thought to herself, "God blundered with Creation! He should have put the small acorns on the tiny vines and the large pumpkins on the huge branches."

Nodding off, the woman stretched out under the oak tree for a nap. A few minutes after falling asleep she was awakened by a tiny acorn bouncing off her nose. Chuckling to herself, she rubbed her nose and thought, "Maybe God was right after all!"

THE WALLET

by: Author Unknown, A Month of Inspiration

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street.  I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner.  But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address.  I started to open the letter hoping to find some clue.  Then I saw the dateline -- 1924.  The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.  It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner.  It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it.  Even so, she wrote that she would always love him.  It was signed, Hannah.  It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified.  Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

"Operator," i began, "this is an unusual request.  I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found.  Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number."  She said, as a courtesy, she should call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me.  I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line.  "I have a party who will speak with you."

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hanna.  She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah.  Nut that was 30 years ago!" "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said.  "maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter."  She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number.

They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.  I thanked them and phoned.  the woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

This whole thing was stupid,  I thought to myself.  Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?  nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me,  "Yes, Hannah is staying with us."

Even though it was already 10 pm, I asked if I could come by to see her.  "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television."

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home.  The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door.  We went up to the third floor of the large building.  In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.  She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye.  I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.

The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael."  She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved him very much.  But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young.  Oh, he was so handsome.  He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."

"Yes," she continued.  "Michael Goldtein was a wonderful person.  If you should find him, tell him I think of him often.  And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him.  You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes,  "I never did marry.  I guess no one ver matched up to Michael..."

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye.  i took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?"  I told him she had given me a lead.  "At least I have a last name.  But I think I'll let it go for a while.  I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet."

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side.  When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey wait a minute!  That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet.  I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing.  He's always losing that wallet.  I must have found it in the halls at least three times."

"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor.  That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure.  He must have lost it on one of his walks."  I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office.  I told her what the guard had said.  We went back to the elevator and got on.

I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.  On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room.  He likes to read at night.  He's a darling old man."

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book.  The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet.  Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"

This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"  I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it!  It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon.  I want to give you a reward."

"No, thank you," I said.  "But I have to tell you something.  I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."  The smile on his face suddenly disappeared.  "You read that letter?"

"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."  He suddenly grew pale.  "Hannah?  You know where she is?  How is she?  Is she still as pretty as she was?  Please, please tell me," he begged.

"She's fine... just as pretty as when you knew her."  I said softly.  The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is?  I want to call her tomorrow."  He grabbed my hands and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that lette came, my life literally ended.  I never married.  I guess I've always loved her."

"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me." We took the elevator down to the third floor.  The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television.  The nurse walked over to her.

"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway.  "Do you know this man?"  She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.  Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael.  Do you remember me?"

She gasped, "Michael!  I don't believe it!  Michael!  It's you!  My Michael!"  he walked slowly towards her and they embraced.  The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.  "See," I said.  "See how the Good Lord works!  If it's meant to be, it will be."

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home.  "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?  Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!"  It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in th celebration.  Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful.  Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall.  They made me their best man.  The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.  A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

Babysitting is a Dangerous Job

A young couple went out to dinner one evening and left the baby-sitter in charge of their two children.  The children had been put to bed and the baby-sitter was watching the television when the phone rang.  She answered but all she heard was a man laughing hysterically and then a voice saying,  "I'm upstairs with the children, you'd better come up."  Thinking it was "one of those prank phone calls" or a practical joke she slammed down the receiver and turned the television sound up.

A short time later the phone rang again and, as she picked it up, the unmistakable hysterical laughter came down the line and the voice once again said "I'm upstairs with the children, you'd better come up."  Getting rather frightened she called the operator and was advised they would notify the police and, should he phone again, could she keep him talking in order to give them time to trace the call and have him arrested.

Minutes after she replaced the receiver the phone rang again and, when the voice said, "I'm upstairs with the children, you'd better come up," she tried to keep him talking.  However, he must have guessed what she was trying to do and he put the phone down.

Only seconds later the phone rang again, this time it was the operator who said, "Get out of the house straight away, the man is on the extension."  The baby-sitter put down the phone and just then heard someone coming down the stairs.  She fled from the house and ran straight into the arms of the pokice.  They burst into the house and found a man brandishing a large butcher's knife.  He had entered the house through an upstairs window, murdered both the children and was just about to do the same to the poor baby-sitter.

TREES THAT WOOD

by: Author Unknown

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."

Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."

Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."

After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter..." and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.

At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.

When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down.

When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.

Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time. Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.

Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.

The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for your. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

STORY TYPES

STORY : the telling of a happening or connected series of happenings, whether true of fictitious; account narration.

NARRATIVE : the broadest sense is: anything told or recounted; more narrowly, something told or recounted in the form of a story; account; tale.

SPRINGBOARD STORY : is a story that enables a leap in understanding by the audience so as to grasp how an organization or community or complex system may change. A springboard story has an impact hot so much through transferring large amounts of information, but through catalyzing understanding. It enables listeners to visualize from a story in one context what is involved in a large-scale transformation in an analogous context.

ANTI-STORY : an anti-story is a story that arises in opposition to another. Any story that has a significant impact in a group or organization will give rise to similar stories ("That reminds me...") as well as anti-stories. Anti-stories aim at undermining the original story. As often pointed out by Dave Snowden, an anti-story can arise as a negative or cynical counter to stories of official goodness. But it's not limited to the situation of stories of official goodness. It also arises in response to negative or cynical stories where again the intent is to undermine the original story.

The phenomenon of anti-story is something that one needs to be aware of when telling stories in an organization. The phenomenon will occur spontaneously and naturally, no matter how powerful the story one tells. The scene then becomes a battle between competing stories. The competing stories may co-exist for an extended period, or one story may "overcome" the other, and become the accepted account of what is goin on.

One can perhaps envisage a sequence:

Story >> Anti-story >>Eventual Story

The Eventual Story may be the same as the original story (if the original story is "triumphant"), or the same as the Anti-story (if the opponents of the story are "triumphant"), or perhaps a new story, combining elements of the original story and the anti-story.

Anti-story can be used as a powerful tool to undermine the position of one's opponents particularly where they are circulating untrue rumors or unreasonable criticism in the organization.

The anti-story doesn't work very well against a rumor that is true or a criticism that is reasonable. In those situations, one should admit the truth and say what one is going to be done about it.

In literature, stories with an anti-plot can emerge to undermine the idea that life has a plot with simple beginning, middle and ending. In Macbeth, Shakespeare powerfully expressed the anti-story viewpoint that life has no meaning (in a drama that is paradoxically full of meaning):

"Life... is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing:"
Macbeth, ActV, Scene V.

ACCOUNT : usually a reckoning of financial matters or transactions, but can also mean: an explanation, a repost; description; story. (One of the first uses of written language was to record financial transactions which might be conceived of as miniature stories.)

TALE : something told or related; relation or a recital of happenings; or a story or account of true, legendary, or fictitious events; narrative; or a literary composition in narrative form.

CHRONICLE : a historical record or register of facts or events arranged in the order in which they happened.

HISTORY : the several senses of history include: 1. an account of what has or might have happened, especially, in the form of a narrative, play, story, or tale; 2. what has happened in the life or development of a people, country, institution; 3. a systematic account of this, usually in chronological order with an analysis and explanation; 4. all recorded events of the past; 5. the branch of knowledge that deals systematically with the past; 5. the branch of knowledge that deals systematically with the past; a recording, analyzing, correlating, and explaining of past events; 6. a known or recorded past.

NEWS : new information about anything; information previously unknown; or reports, collectively, of recent happenings, especially those broadcast over radio or TV, printed in a newspaper.

REPORT : to give an account of, often at regular intervals; give information about (something seen, done).

STORIES THAT ARE TYPICALLY ORAL AND EPHEMERAL

ANECDOTE : originally, an anecdote was a little-known, entertaining facts of history or biography; now, a short, often entertaining account of some happening, usually personal or biographical.

RUMOR : general talk not based on definite knowledge; mere gossip; hearsay; an unconfirmed report, story, or statement in general circulation.

HEARSAY : something one has heard but does not know to be true.

GOSSIP : idle talk and rumors, especially about the private affairs of others, and usually recounted with a pejorative tone.

JOKE : anything said or done to arouse laughter; such as a funny anecdote with a punch line or an amusing trick played on someone.

FORMS OF STORY THAT ARE ORIGINALLY ORAL AND TO SOME EXTENT ENDURING EITHER THROUGH BEING TOLD AND RETOLD, OR THROUGH BEING WRITTEN DOWN

FABLE : a fictitious story meant to teach a moral lesson: the characters are usually talking animals, such as fables written by Aesop (ancient Greece, 6th Century B.C.) or Jean de La Fontaine (French poet and writer of fables, 1621-1695)

PARABLE : short, simple story, usually of an occurrence of a familiar kind, from which a moral or religious lesson may be drawn.

MYTH : a traditional story of unknown authorship, ostensibly with a historical basis, but serving usually to explain some phenomenon of nature, the origin of man, or the customs, institutions, religious rites of a people: myths usually involve the exploits of gods and heroes.

LEGEND : a story handed down for generations among a people and popularly believed to have a historical basis, although not verifiable.

STORIES IN WRITTEN LITERATURE

SHORT STORY : a fictitious literary composition in prose or peotry, shorter than a novel; narrative; tale.

NOVELLA : a relatively long fictional prose narrative with a more or less complex plot or pattern of events, about actions, feelings, motives of a group of characters.

EPIC : a long narrative poem in a dignified style about the deeds of a traditional or historical hero or heroes; such as Homer's Iliad or the Odyssey, with certain formal characteristics (beginning in medias res, catalog passages, invocations of the muse, etc.)(called classical epic); b. a poem like Milton's Paradise Lost, in which such characteristics are applied to later or different materials (called art epic or literary epic); c. a poem like Beowulf, considered as expressing the early ideals and traditions of a people or nation (called folk epic or national epic)

DRAMA : a literary composition that tells a story, usually of human conflict, by means of dialogue and action, to be performed by actors; play; now often any play that is not a comedy

TRAGEDY ; a serious play or drama typically dealing with the problems of a central character, leading to an unhappy or disastrous ending brought on, as in ancient drama, by fate and a tragic flaw in this character, or, in modern drama, usually by moral weakness, psychological maladjustment, or social pressures (often seen as requiring catharsis, and a tragic flaw.)

COMEDY : originally, a drama or narrative with a happy ending or non-tragic theme, for example Dante's Divine Comedy; more recently, any various types of play or motion picture with a more or less humorous treatment of characters and situation and a happy ending.

HIGH COMEDY : comedy appealing to, and reflecting the life and problems of the upper social classes, characters and situation and a happy ending.

LOW COMEDY : a comedy that gets its effect mainly from action and situation, as burlesque, farce, slapstick, and horseplay rather than from witty dialogue and characterization.

FARCE : an exaggerated comedy based on broadly humorous or highly unlikely situations.

PARODY : a literary or musical work imitating the characteristic style of some other work or of a writer or composer in a satirical or humorous way, usually by applying it to an inappropriate subject.

SATIRE : a literary work in which vices, follies, stupidities or abuses, are held up to ridicule and contempt.

Reference:
Stevedenning.Com
What are the main type of stories and narrative?