Father and Son

Father and Son A Real-Life Love Story Every once in awhile someone sends us a story that's so beautiful we are forever changed by it. This is one of those stories. It started in Winchester, Massachusetts, 43 years ago, when Rick Hoyt was born. Somehow his umbilical cord became wrapped around his neck, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. The doctors told Rick's parents that he would be a vegetable for the rest of his life. But Dick Hoyt, Rick's father, didn't believe it. He noticed the way Rick's eyes followed him around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.'' "Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that.'' Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.'' That day changed Rick's life. "Dad,'' he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!'' And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon. "No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyt's weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. So, for the first few years, Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway. Later, they would find a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year. Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?'' How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried. Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironman Competitions in Hawaii. This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992 - only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time. But to really appreciate the greatness of this love story, you have to watch the following video... presented here... (And be prepared to be inspired! ;-)

You Are Enough

You Are Enough The root of most of our problems is a faulty self-image. But three little words can help us have a happier life... By David J. Walker Undoubtedly, the catalyst behind many successes in the world is a need to prove something because one feels inadequate, but the best path, the path that satisfies the soul, is one of completeness at every step of the way. Taking this path makes living a joy, because it doesn't postpone that feeling of being enough. Being enough is not something we achieve. It's something we are. The most satisfying path, then, isn't so much what we are accomplishing as what we get to be, while we are accomplishing. We get to be the creative power of the Universe, conscious of itself. We get to be whole, complete, enough! The purpose of life is to satisfy the soul, and though acknowledging your accomplishments can help in this effort, it cannot take you the full distance. The only thing that can satisfy your soul is an answer to the question, who am I? You are an individualized expression of Life, of greater consequence and magnitude than anything you will ever accomplish. When we focus on the fact that we are enough now, the beginning, the middle and the end of every journey—whether it's finding a mate or getting a better job—is filled with a sense of well-being. We may complete an experience and even be thrilled by the outcome, but we know that we are no more complete than when we started out. You see, we are either enough right now or we're not; and if we are, then we're challenged by our enough-ness to live that way. The problem is, most of us don't listen to the inner voice that says, "You're enough because you exist." We ignore it because being enough doesn't fit the image we have of ourselves. We have spent so much time thinking of ourselves as not being enough that enough-ness seems very far away. We may have a sense of being surrounded by the Life Force, but we forget that the Life Force is also within us. And if the Life Force is within us, we are enough. How easy it is to be Bible-oriented and still gloss over one of its most important statements, "Man was made in the image and likeness of [the Life Force we call] God." And if the Life Force is enough, we must be enough. Being made in the image and likeness of God isn't something we have to strive for. It's something we must have the courage to accept. The root of all of our problems, then, is a faulty self-image, because the natural tendency of mind is to surround itself with whatever it has embodied. If I embody fear and doubt, I will surround myself, to one degree or another, with people and circumstances that reflect fear and doubt. If, however, I embody faith and trust, I will surround myself with people and circumstances that reflect faith and trust.

Provoking Words...

Bamboo Inspiration

THE ERASER

THE ERASER by John Gaudet-Aubichon My life as a boy was filled with violence, blood and hiding places. My siblings and I were shuffled back and forth between our violently alcoholic parents and a horribly abusive convent. We were living in a small Saskatchewan town called Swift current with my parents during these rough periods and school was just a blur of new teachers, taunting faces and lonely lunches. I carried the abuse inside me like a brick. I just felt like I had so many bad secrets that I wasn't supposed to tell anyone and I was so scared to let them slip that I stopped talking. I was also in perpetual mourning for my brothers and sisters. We had made so many promises to each other hiding under the bed crying while real monsters roared and no heroes came to the rescue. We promised that no matter what we would always be together. Well this was easier whispered from a terrified child than done and we were inevitably split up and thrown to the mercy of the convent again. At best you could say I was barely surviving when I met a very special lady. You have to understand that with all that was going on with my mom and the nuns at the convent I had never had any positive contact with women in my life. That's why I was filled with dread when she asked me to stay after school. Her name was Mrs. Shannon and she was my second grade teacher. I spent the afternoon filled with anguish as the clock ticked the seconds by. What new torture was I in for now? What ever had I done? I remembered taking a half empty milk carton and a carrot off another child's desk at lunch and eating them. (I was so desperate for milk and real food that I just couldn't help myself.) I thought that this may be what I was to be detained for. At the end of the day the final bell found me numb with fear and anguish. I sat at my desk as kids bustled by me with taunts of "you're really gonna get it this time" and " what kinds of flowers you want at your funeral," etc... The classroom soon emptied and it was just her and I. She smiled and said that I wasn't in any kind of trouble and that she just needed some help cleaning up. I was only slightly relieved as we started tidying the classroom up. While we worked she talked to me about everything. Somehow she seemed to know that I was afraid to talk so she talked for both of us. She told me what it was like on her family farm and of the animals there. She talked about school, her love for kids and and how she became a teacher. I heard with loving detail stories of family and friends that I secretly longed for. She began to keep me after school every day and I began to look forward to these sessions with this kind woman. Once she gave me a sparkly eraser and I kept it in my pocket for weeks fingering it with a smile on my face. She encouraged me to read and showed me that not all adults were monsters. I was told that I could be someone, and if I really tried I could do anything that I wanted. She gave me hope. Well I would like to say that was the start of a new life for me but it wasn't. I was soon moved back to the convent and I lost touch with Mrs. Shannon. Eventually the department of social services moved me back with my dad as he and my mother had finally divorced. This proved to be a bad mistake and soon he began to drink and get violent. It all escalated until one June day when he took his own life in a fit of depression. I kicked around after that, moving aimlessly through life until one day my sister called and said she found some things in the attic. In them were boxes of old toys and in one I found the sparkly eraser Mrs. Shannon had given me. I started to cry for this woman and the gift of kindness she had given me as a child. I changed my life that day. I stopped drinking and started to write. I found God and have turned my life around completely now. I am married with a thirteen year-old daughter who also loves to write. I owe it to a lady who gave me my greatest gift as a child, kindness, hope and a sparkly eraser.