As the fifth of seven children, I went to the same public school as my three older sisters and brother. Every year, my mother went to the same pageant and had parent/child interviews with the same teachers. The only thing different was the child. And every child participated in an old school tradition – the annual plant sale held in early May, just in time for Mother’s Day.
Third grade was the first time that I was allowed to take part in the plant sale. I wanted to surprise my mother, but I didn’t have any money. I went to my oldest sister and shared the secret, and she gave me some money. When I arrived at the plant sale, I carefully made my selection. I agonized over that decision, inspecting each plant to ensure that I had indeed found the best geranium. Once I had smuggled it home, with the help of my sister, I hid it on the upstairs neighbor’s porch. I was very afraid my mother would find it before Mother’s Day, but my sister assured me that she wouldn’t, and indeed she did not.
When Mother’s Day arrived, I was bursting with pride when I gave her that geranium. I remember how bright her eyes were, and how delighted she was with my gift.
The year I was fifteen, my younger sister reached third grade. In early May she came to me full of wonder and secrecy and told me that there was going to be a plant sale at school, and she wanted to surprise our mother. Like my older sister did for me, I gave her some money and off she went. She arrived home full of nervous excitement, the geranium hidden in a paper bag under her sweater. “I looked at every plant,” she explained, “and I know I got the best one!”
With a sweet sense of deja vu, I helped my little sister hide that geranium on the upstairs neighbor’s porch, assuring her that our mother would not find it before Mother’s Day. I was there when she gave my mother the geranium, and I watched them both bursting with pride and delight. It was like being in a dream I had already dreamed. My mother noticed me watching, and she gave me a soft, secret smile. With a tug at my heart, I smiled back. I had been wondering how my mother could pretend to be surprised at this gift from her sixth child, but as I watched her eyes light up with delight as she was presented with that most precious gift, I knew she was not pretending.
Think what a remarkable, unduplicatable, and miraculous thing it is to be you! Of all the people who have come and gone on the earth, since the beginning of time, not ONE of them is like YOU!
No one who has ever lived or is to come has had your combination of abilities, talents, appearance, friends, acquaintances, burdens, sorrows and opportunities.
No one’s hair grows exactly the way yours does. No one’s finger prints are like yours. No one has the same combination of secret inside jokes and family expressions that you know.
The few people who laugh at all the same things you do, don’t sneeze the way you do. No one prays about exactly the same concerns as you do. No one is loved by the same combination of people that love you – NO ONE!
No one before, no one to come. YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY UNIQUE!
Enjoy that uniqueness. You do not have to pretend in order to seem more like someone else. You weren’t meant to be like someone else. You do not have to lie to conceal the parts of you that are not like what you see in anyone else.
You were meant to be different. Nowhere ever in all of history will the same things be going on in anyone’s mind, soul and spirit as are going on in yours right now.
If you did not exist, there would be a hole in creation, a gap in history, something missing from the plan for humankind.
Treasure your uniqueness. It is a gift given only to you. Enjoy it and share it!
No one can reach out to others in the same way that you can. No one can speak your words. No one can convey your meanings. No one can comfort with your kind of comfort. No one can bring your kind of understanding to another person.
No one can be cheerful and lighthearted and joyous in your way. No one can smile your smile. No one else can bring the whole unique impact of you to another human being.
Share your uniqueness. Let it be free to flow out among your family and friends and people you meet in the rush and clutter of living wherever you are. That gift of yourself was given you to enjoy and share. Give yourself away!
See it! Receive it! Let it tickle you! Let it inform you and nudge you and inspire you! YOU ARE UNIQUE!
I am GOD.
Today I will be handling all of your problems.
Please remember that I do not need your help.
If life happens to deliver a situation to you that you cannot handle, do not attempt to resolve it.
Kindly put it in the SFGTD (something for GOD to do) box. It will be addressed in My time, not yours. Once the matter is placed into the box, do not hold on to it.
If you find yourself stuck in traffic, don’t despair. There are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.
Should you have a bad day at work, think of the man who has been out of work for years.
Should you despair over a relationship gone bad, think of the person who has never known what it’s like to love and be loved in return.
Should you grieve the passing of another weekend, think of the woman in dire straits, working twelve hours a day, seven days a week to feed her children.
Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance, think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.
Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror, think of the cancer patient in chemotherapy who wishes she had hair to examine.
Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all about, asking “What is my purpose?”, be thankful. There are those who didn’t live long enough to get the opportunity.
Should you find yourself the victim of other people’s bitterness, ignorance, smallness or insecurities, remember, things could be worse. You could be them!
Mary and her husband Jim had a dog named "Lucky." Lucky was a real character. Whenever Mary and Jim had company come for a weekend visit they would warn their friends to not leave their luggage open because Lucky would help himself to whatever struck his fancy. Inevitably, someone would forget and something would come up missing.
Mary or Jim would go to Lucky's toy box in the basement and there the treasure would be, amid all of Lucky's other favorite toys. Lucky always stashed his finds in his toy box and he was very particular that his toys stay in the box.
It happened that Mary found out she had breast cancer. Something told her she was going to die of this disease....in fact, she was just sure it was fatal.
She scheduled the double mastectomy, fear riding her shoulders. The night before she was to go to the hospital she cuddled with Lucky. A thought struck her.... what would happen to Lucky? Although the three-year-old dog liked Jim, he was Mary's dog through and through. If I die, Lucky will be abandoned, Mary thought. He won't understand that I didn't want to leave him. The thought made her sadder than thinking of her own death.
The double mastectomy was harder on Mary than her doctors had anticipated and Mary was hospitalized for over two weeks. Jim took Lucky for his evening walk faithfully, but the little dog just drooped, whining and miserable.
Finally the day came for Mary to leave the hospital. When she arrived home, Mary was so exhausted she couldn't even make it up the steps to her bedroom. Jim made his wife comfortable on the couch and left her to nap. Lucky stood watching Mary but he didn't come to her when she called. It made Mary sad but sleep soon overcame her and she dozed.
When Mary woke for a second she couldn't understand what was wrong. She couldn't move her head and her body felt heavy and hot. But panic soon gave way to laughter when Mary realized the problem. She was covered, literally blanketed, with every treasure Lucky owned! While she had slept, the sorrowing dog had made trip after trip to the basement bringing his beloved mistress all his favorite things in life. He had covered her with his love.
Mary forgot about dying. Instead she and Lucky began living again, walking further and further together every day. It's been 12 years now and Mary is still cancer-free. Lucky? He still steals treasures and stashes them in his toy box but Mary remains his greatest treasure.
Remember . . . live every day to the fullest. Each minute is a blessing from God. And never forget.... the people who make a difference in our lives are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care for us.
When I bought my Blackberry I thought about the 30-year business I ran with 1800 employees, all without a cell phone that plays music, takes videos, pictures and communicates with Facebook and Twitter. I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouses, and others in our far-flung family could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.
That was before one of my kids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twitterific, Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting world.
My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bathroom habits of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.
The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Bluetooth [it's red] I am supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line at the book store talking to my wife and everyone within 50 yards was glaring at me. I had to take my hearing aid out to use it, and I got a little loud.
I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, "Re-calc-ul-ating." You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then if I made a right turn instead, oh well, it was not a good relationship.
When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.
To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven't figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.
The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on something themselves, but this sudden "Paper or Plastic?" every time I check out just knocks me for a loop. I bought some of those cloth reusable bags to avoid looking confused, but I never remember to take them in with me.
Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me, "Paper or Plastic?" I just say, "Doesn't matter to me. I am bi-sacksual." Then it's their turn to stare at me with a blank look.
There is always a big difference between faith and doubt and each one of these differences is one that can be changed to one of faith. It may not always be easy to do and you may fail occasionally, but then that is not a big issue as long as you are always striving forward.
A person with doubt inevitably sees obstacles standing in their way whereas a person of faith sees that there is a way forward and moves accordingly.
A person of doubt sees the dark of the world where everything appears to be doom but those of faith see only the brightest of the day where the future is looked upon as a new beginning.
Those who are mired in doubt fear to take action, to take any meaningful steps to go beyond. But those of faith see only possibilities where obstacles are viewed as the necessary hurdles to go beyond.
The person of doubt never fully knows the answer to “who believes,” but the person of faith is the first to say “I do."
Much of these same principles apply to every aspect of life. It is a matter of simply looking around your own environment, your own family, your neighborhood or community to see who does and who doesn't believe.
The ones who have faith and belief are the ones who seem to respond consistently to those who seek help, or the first to ask for assistance from authorities to eradicate a problem within their neighborhood, or the first to be there in emergencies even if they do not know anyone.
Faith in yourself is one of the prime ingredients in order to help others and to be of importance while you spend your time here on earth.
If you do not have faith – faith in God or in yourself – it is never too late to move beyond whatever chains you have placed on your life. Take the first step and never look back.
I recall as a young child bringing bouquets of brilliant yellow flowers to my mother. It didn't matter that the stems felt sticky or that both my parents cursed the presence of these flowers in the lawn. I thought they were beautiful!
And there were so many of them! We spent hours picking the flowers and then popping the blossoms off with a snap of our fingers. But the supply of dandelions never ran out. My father or brothers would chop off all the heads with the lawn mower at least once a week, but that didn't stop these hardy wonders.
And for those flowers that escaped the honor of being hand-delivered to my mother or the sharp blades of the lawn mower, there was another level of existence.
The soft, round puffs of a dandelion gone to seed caused endless giggles and squeals of delight as we unwittingly spread this flower across the yard.
As I worked in my garden last week, pulling unwanted weeds out of the space that would become a haven for tomatoes, corn, peas and sunflowers, I again marveled at the flower that some call a weed. And I thought, "If only I had the staying power of a dandelion."
If only I could stretch my roots so deep and straight that something tugging on my stem couldn't separate me completely from the source that feeds me life. If only I could come back to face the world with a bright, sunshiny face after someone has run me over with a lawnmower or worse, purposely attacked me in an attempt to destroy me. If only my foliage was a nutritious source of vitamins that help others grow. If only I could spread love and encouragement as freely and fully as this flower spreads seeds of itself.
The lawns at my parents' homes are now beautiful green blankets. The only patches of color come from well-placed, well-controlled flowerbeds. Chemicals have managed to kill what human persistence couldn't.
I hope you and I can be different. I hope that we can stretch our roots deep enough that the strongest poison can't reach our souls. I hope that we can overcome the poisons of anger, fear, hate, criticism and competitiveness. I hope that we can see flowers in a world that sees weeds.
The Sign by Leanne Petty,posted Apr 12 2012 8:04AM
By Roger Dean Kiser
"Feel like driving a car today?" I asked my son on the telephone.
Several minutes earlier, one of the local car dealers had telephoned and asked if I might pick up a new car in Vidalia and bring it back to Brunswick.
"Always use a little extra Christmas money," replied Roger Junior. "Let me change clothes and I'll be over in a few minutes," he said.
It was about 6:30 in the morning when we made our way onto I-95 interstate, heading northbound.
As we traveled along it was suggested that I buy breakfast for the two of us. Being a little hungry, I agreed and pulled off at the next exit.
Very carefully, I pulled into a parking space located right next to a handicap spot. I smiled back as one of the two women said "Good morning" to us, as they were unloading a wheelchair from the side of a large white van.
Sitting in the wheelchair was a gentleman dressed in a military uniform. I looked down and noticed that both his pant legs were folded beneath his knees. I also noticed officer's bars on his uniform.
"Good morning, Captain," I said as I saluted him.
"And a good morning to you, sir," he replied back.
The five of us traveled up the narrow walkway to the door of the small restaurant. Not thinking, I stepped up a three inch cement curb and opened the door for the Captain and the two women.
"There's a wheelchair ramp located on the other side of the building," said a large man, with a name tag, who came walking very quickly out the front door.
"In the last two years I've scaled walls higher than this building, ran up and down rubble piles higher than three of my vans piled atop one another. I think I can make it over this curb," said the officer.
"I'm sure you can, sir," said the man, as he also saluted the Captain.
Roger Jr. and I grabbed hold of the wheelchair handles and as the soldier pushed forward on the wheels of his chair, Roger and I pushed forward. Up and over the cement hump he went, with no difficulty, whatsoever.
As one of the women pushed him through the doorway of the restaurant, the large man wearing a name tag snatched a small sign down, which had been taped to the glass door.
"I saw that," said the Captain, as he laughed.
"This sign was never meant to include heroes," said the manager, as he hid the sign behind himself. "In fact this sign will never appear in this doorway, ever again," he continued, as he wadded up the piece of paper.
"I am a writer. May I have that, please?" I asked the man.
Slowly, he handed me the wadded up piece of paper, which I stuck into my pants pocket.
For some time an old farmer had been plowing with an ox and a mule teamed together, working them pretty hard. The young ox said to the mule, “Let’s play sick today and rest a little while.” But the old mule said, “No, we need to get the work done, for the growing season is short.”
But the ox played sick, and the farmer brought it fresh hay and corn and made the ox comfortable. When the mule came in from plowing, the ox asked how it went in the fields. “We didn’t get as much done,” answered the mule, “but we did a fair stretch.”
Then the ox asked, “What did the old man say about me?” “Nothing,” said the mule.
The next day the ox, thinking it had a good thing going, played sick again. And when the mule returned from the field very tired, the ox asked, “How did it go today?” “All right, I guess,” the mule replied, “but we didn’t get much done.” Then the young ox asked, “What did the old man say about me?” “Nothing to me,” the mule answered, “but he did stop and have a long talk with the butcher.”
When I was nineteen, I thought that I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I was engaged to a twenty-one-year-old young man, whom I had been dating for over three years; and we were planning a wedding. We truly loved each other.
Then doubts began to wiggle their way into my thinking, and I started to wonder if I were making the right decision. A college scholarship was available, if I wanted to apply for it. I was a good student, ranking in the upper ten percent of my senior class. I had half-heartedly considered pursuing a career in the fields of art or writing. I possessed a measure of talent in both areas, but I had lacked incentive to really work at either of them. And that's where the doubts began.
Without telling my fianc?, I struggled for weeks with my dilemma. I knew that I could not go away to college and still get married. I also knew that my heart belonged to him, would always belong to him. I tried to count the cost of both losses, tried to project what my life would be like in both scenarios. I was in a quagmire of indecision.
Late one night, as I tossed and turned, I heard my dad cough lightly from the next room. He was only thirty-nine; but he was very ill with lupus, and had many sleepless, pain-filled nights.
"Dad, is Mom asleep?" I called softly.
"Yes," he answered.
"Daddy, I have a problem," I told him. For a long time, there was no answer; and I thought that he had fallen asleep. He was a man of few words, at best. So I resigned myself to receiving no help from that quarter.
"Maybe you're using the wrong figures."
When his answer floated gently into my room, it was as if a cartoon light bulb appeared over my head. How simple my father had made it. All I had to do was eliminate one set of figures from the equation, and my problem was solved!
A few weeks later I married my young man. And, no, it hasn't always been a "happily-ever-after" fairy tale existence. It has been, however, a life filled with love, even in the midst of "dislike" for each other. Untold riches have been mine, through the lives of my daughter and my son, and now through the lives of their children.
Down all the years, I have used my "talents" in art projects for my children, both at school and church, as a means to decorate my own house and houses of friends and relatives with my own oil paintings, and my years of association with a writer's roundtable, both with writing content and designing covers for our books. I have finally seen another of my dreams materialize in the form of my first book, which [was] released in May, 2003.
My young dad died just two short years after giving me the words I needed to make the correct choice for my life. My daughter, the only grandchild he would ever hold, was only seven months old when he died.
I wish my dad could know how often I have used his one-line philosophy. I have discovered that, usually, when confronted with a choice or problem or dilemma, the easiest solution is simply to delete one set of "figures" from the equation.
This is a story within a story that starts out from a wholesaler in New York who sent a letter to the postmaster of a small Midwestern town. He asked for the name of an honest lawyer who would take a collection case against a local debtor who had refused to pay for a shipment of the wholesaler's goods. He got this reply:
I am the postmaster of this village and received your letter. I am also an honest lawyer and ordinarily would be pleased to accept a case against a local debtor. In this case, however, I also happen to be the person you sold those crummy goods to. I received your demand to pay and refused to honor it. I am also the banker you sent the draft to draw on the merchant, and I sent that back with a note stating that the merchant had refused to pay. And if I were not, for the time being, substituting for the pastor of our local church, I would tell you just where to stick your claim."
Unlike the postmaster, not many of us are multi-talented. We cannot do ALL things well, or even fairly well. You may be a skilled chef, for example. Or, on the other hand, your motto may be more like mine: "Where there's smoke, there's dinner."
As gifted as the great mathematician was, even Albert Einstein experienced feelings of inadequacy. In 1948 Einstein was offered the first presidency of the new nation of Israel. He turned it down with this statement: "I know little about the nature of people.... And I am saddened and ashamed that I cannot accept it... I lack both the natural aptitude and the experience to deal properly with people."
Einstein knew plenty about the nature of the universe, but this wise and sensitive man also knew that he lacked the necessary political skill for such a demanding position. Is there really any shame in knowing our limitations?
Einstein focused on that which he did well and the world is the better for it. Madame Marie Curie said, "Life is not easy for any of us, but what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained."
Be confident! You may not recognize it, but you are gifted for something! Whether it be big or small, do what you are gifted to do and you will be happy.
At the time of Our Lord’s Crucifixion, the dogwood used to have the size of the oak and other forest trees. Because the wood was so firm and strong and there were few trees in the Middle East that were very large, it was chosen to be the wood for the crosses used in crucifixions of criminals.
Thus, the wood of the cross that would bear Our Lord and Savior was made from the dogwood tree. To be used thus for such a cruel purpose, however, greatly distressed the tree. Sensing this, the crucified Christ said to it:
“Because of your compassion and pity for My suffering, never again shall the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used as a cross. Henceforth, you shall be slender and bent and twisted and your blossoms shall be in the form of a cross.
“On the outer edge of each petal there will be nail prints, and the center of the flower will resemble the cruel crown of thorns placed on My head, with bright red clusters once again recalling the blood I shed. Thus, all who see this will remember Me.”
I had a very special teacher in high school many years ago whose husband died suddenly of a heart attack. About a week after his death, she shared some of her insights with a classroom of students. The class was nearly over, and as the late afternoon sunlight came streaming in through the classroom windows, she moved a few things aside on the edge of her desk and sat down there. With a gentle look of reflection on her face, she paused and said, "Before class is over, I would like to share with all of you a thought that is unrelated to class, but which I feel is very important."
"Each of us is put here on earth to learn, share, love, appreciate and give of ourselves. None of us knows when this fantastic experience will end. It can be taken away at any moment. Perhaps this is God's way of telling us that we must make the most out of every single day." Her eyes beginning to water, she went on, "So I would like you all to make me a promise. From now on, on your way to school, or on your way home, find something beautiful to notice. It doesn't have to be something you see - it could be a scent - perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting out of someone's house, or it could be the sound of the breeze slightly rustling the leaves in the trees, or the way the morning light catches one autumn leaf as it falls gently to the ground."
"Please look for these things, and cherish them. For, although it may sound trite to some, these things are the 'stuff' of life. The little things we are put here on earth to enjoy. The things we often take for granted. We must make it important to notice them, for at any time...it can all be taken away."
The class was completely quiet. We all picked up our books and filed out of the room silently. That afternoon, I noticed more things on my way home from school than I had that whole semester. Every once in a while, I think of that teacher and remember what an impression she made on all of us, and I try to appreciate all of those things that sometimes we all overlook.
Take notice of something special you see on your lunch hour today. Go barefoot. Or walk on the beach at sunset. Stop off on the way home tonight to get a double-dip ice cream cone. For as we get older, it is not the things we did that we often regret, but the things we didn't do.
Long ago an Eastern monarch called his wise men together and asked them to invent a motto, a few magic words that would help him in time of trial or distress. It must be brief enough to be engraved on a ring to be ever present. It must be appropriate to every situation, as useful in prosperity as in adversity. It must be a motto wise and true and endlessly enduring, words by which a man could be guided all his life, in every circumstance, no matter what happened.
The wise men finally came to the monarch with their magic words. They were words for every change or chance of fortune … words to fit every situation, good or bad … words to ease the heart and mind in every circumstance. The words they gave for the ring were:
My Grandmother was always encouraging me to set goals and work hard to achieve them. She would tell me not to be a follower and not to set limits on what I could achieve. She truly believed that there were no limits; that you could achieve whatever you wanted.
A farmer won a first prize at the country fair for his huge radish that was the exact shape and size of a quart milk bottle.
Many were curious as to how the farmer was able to grow this radish in the exact shape of a milk bottle.
Finally one gentleman went up to the farmer and asked the question. The farmer replied, "It was easy. I got the seed growing and then I put it into the milk bottle. It had nowhere else to go."
You can use this story as an analogy to life - our lives are shaped by the kind of surroundings we place ourselves in, the people that we allow to influence us, and the goals we give ourselves.
If we only dream and take no action then we get no further. But if we plan, set a goal and take action then our life takes a different shape.
Goals and actions can help us accomplish more in a year than what some people will accomplish in a lifetime. To prove this point read the biographies of successful people and you will see that goals and actions did in fact play a big role in their success.
To use the words of wisdom from Max DePree, "We cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are."
Mary Kay Ash said, "Don't limit yourself. Many people limit themselves to what they think they can do. You can go as far as your mind lets you. What you believe, remember, you can achieve."
In summary, don't put yourself in a bottle; move out of what is comfortable and secure if you want to move forward.
Imagine there’s a beautifully wrapped gift on your kitchen counter waiting to be opened. By you. The gift is intriguing and it begs for your attention. But first … before you tear it open like a 4-year-old with no self-control, here are a few things to know about the gift:
1.It’s unique because you give this gift to yourself. No one can give this to you. Oh, they might like to, but they can’t. You are the only person who can give this gift, and you can give it only to yourself.
2.It’s free. Even if you want to purchase it, you can’t. It’s not for sale. You can’t buy it anywhere. Not from a neighborhood department store, a tiny boutique or a catalog.
3.It may be the perfect gift. It’s a WOW gift! Special. One you’ll always remember.
How’s that for sweetness? A perfect gift that is free that you give to yourself. Does it get any better than that? Plus, you don’t need a special occasion to give this gift; you can give it at any time.
So … what is the gift? I don’t know. It’s different for each of us because this package represents: the gift of a goal. And that’s why only you can answer the question. Only you know what your goal is. Only you know your innermost desires, what motivates you and what gives you strength. The gift of a goal is a unique gift because we give it to ourselves and, in turn, it gives back to us. A good goal gives us energy.
It’s not always easy to discover and develop your goal. But you’ll know when you have it. You’ll see it, know it and feel it in your heart. Mostly, you feel it in your heart.
It’s a little bit like falling in love. Think about the time(s) you were in love. Remember that glorious feeling of being alive? When your senses were highly refined? The colors … brilliant. Sounds … radiant. Feelings … intense.
Like falling in love, a good goal will dazzle, amaze, tantalize and tease. A good goal will make your heart pound! It’s like magic … the transformation, that greater meaning we have when we are motivated and charging after our goals in an unstoppable manner.
All that can be yours if you give yourself this powerful gift. It’s an awesome, magical, life-enhancing gift.
Now is the time to claim the radiant vitality, the joyous passion and the magnificent obsession that is yours, and yours alone. Now is the time to give yourself the gift of a goal. Your goal. Your gift. Your gift to yourself.