God has plans

By Shammi.

Once there was a sweeper in a well known temple and he was very sincere and devoted. Every time he saw thousands of devotees coming to take worship the Lord, he thought that the Lord is standing all the time and giving help and He must be feeling very tired.

So one day very innocently he asked the Lord whether he can take the place of the Lord for a day so that the Lord can have some relief and rest. The Deity of the Temple replied, “I do not mind taking a break. I will transform you like Myself, but you must do one thing. You must just stand here like Me, smile at everyone and just give benedictions. Do not interfere with anything and do not say anything. Remember you are the deity and you just have faith that I have a master plan for everything.” The sweeper agreed to this.

The next day the sweeper took the position of the deity and a rich man came and prayed to the Lord. He offered a nice donation and prayed that his business should be prosperous. While going, the rich man inadvertently left his wallet full of money right there. Now the sweeper in the form of deity could not call him and so he decided to control himself and keep quiet.

Just then a poor man came and he put one coin in the Bowl and said that it was all he could afford and he prayed to the Lord that he should continue to be engaged in the Lord’s service. He also said that his family was in dire need of some basic needs but he left it to the good hands of the Lord to give some solution. When he opened his eyes, he saw the wallet left by the rich man. The poor man thanked the Lord for His kindness and took the wallet very innocently. The sweeper in the form of the Deity could not say anything and he had to just keep smiling.

At that point a sailor walked in. He prayed for his safe journey as he was going on a long trip. Just then the rich man came with the police and said that somebody has stolen his wallet and seeing the sailor there, he asked the police to arrest him thinking that he might have taken it. Now the sweeper in the form of Deity wanted to say that the sailor is not the thief but he could not say so and he became greatly frustrated. The sailor looked at the Lord and asked why he, an innocent person, is being punished. The rich man looked at the Lord and thanked Him for finding the thief. The sweeper in the deity form could no more tolerate it, and he thought that even if the real Lord had been here, he would have definitely interfered, and hence he started speaking and said that the sailor is not the thief but it was the poor man who took away the wallet. The rich man was very thankful as was the sailor.

In the night, the real Lord came and He asked the sweeper how the day was. The sweeper said, “I thought it would be easy, but now I know that Your days are not easy, but I did one good thing.” Then he explained the whole episode to the Lord. The Lord became very upset on hearing this whereas the sweeper thought the Lord would appreciate him for the good deed done.

The Lord asked, “Why did you not just stick to the plan? You had no faith in Me. Do you think that I do not understand the hearts of all those who come here? All the donations which the rich man gave was all stolen money and it is only a fraction of what he really has and he wants Me to reciprocate unlimited. The single coin offered by the poor man was the last coin he had and he gave it to Me out of faith. The sailor might not have done anything wrong, but if the sailor were to go in the ship that night he was about to die because of bad weather and instead if he is arrested he would be in the jail and he would have been saved from a greater calamity. The wallet should go to the poor man because he will use it in My service. I was going to reduce the rich man’s karma also by doing this and save the sailor also. But you canceled everything because you thought you know My plan and you made your own plans.”

God has plans and justice for everyone….we just have to have patience!!!!!

Neale Donald Walsh – A Messenger from God

Neale Donald Walsch is a modern day spiritual messenger whose words continue to touch the world in profound ways. With an early interest in religion and a deeply felt connection to spirituality, Neale spent the majority of his life thriving professionally, yet searching for spiritual meaning before beginning his now famous conversation with God. His With God series of books has been translated into 27 languages, touching millions of lives and inspiring important changes in their day-to-day lives.

Neale began his journey in the most ordinary way. Overstressed and overextended by modern day life when the options ran out and frustration reached its peak, he turned to God. Desperate questions scratched on a legal pad in the middle of a long, sleepless night, began a precious dialogue which changed Neale’s life forever and eventually changed the lives of millions. This process began over 10 years ago and became the much loved Conversations with God Series.

Today the books have been translated into 37 languages, and Book One remains to this day in the 100 top selling spiritual books on Amazon.com.

Neale was born into a Roman Catholic family living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. His first spiritual teacher was his mother, who taught him not to be afraid of God, as she believed in having a personal relationship with the Divine. She taught Neale to do the same. A non-traditional believer, Neale’s mother hardly ever went to church, and when he asked her why, she told Neale, “I don’t have to go to church-God comes to me. He’s with me and around me wherever I am.” This view of God in his childhood would open Neale fully as an adult to transcend the traditional views of organized religion and bring to the world the message found in Conversations with God.

An insatiably curious child, Neale’s comments about life seemed to possess a wisdom far beyond his years, and caused relatives and family friends to often ask, “where does he come up with this stuff?” While attending a Catholic grade school, Neale would often pose questions in Catechism class that would extend past the traditional grade school curriculum. Finally, the parish priest invited Neale to his rectory to answer questions. This meeting turned into a once-a-week visit that blossomed into an open forum where Neale learned not to be afraid to ask questions about religion and spirituality-and also learned that his asking these types of questions did not mean that he would offend God.
By the age of 15, Neale’s involvement with spiritually-based teachings led him to begin reading a variety of spiritual texts, including the Bible, the Rig Veda, the Upanishads and Divine revelation according to Sri Ramakrishna. He noticed that when people got involved in religion they seemed less joyful and angrier, exhibiting behaviors of prejudice and separateness. Neale concluded that the collective experience of theology was not positive.

After graduating from high school, he enrolled at the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee, but academic life could not hold his interest and he dropped out of college after two years to follow an interest in radio broadcasting that eventually led to a full-time position at the age of 19 at a small radio station far from his Milwaukee home, in Annapolis, Maryland.

Restless by nature and always seeking to expand his opportunities for self-expression, Neale in the years that followed became a radio station program director, a newspaper reporter and, ultimately, managing editor, public information officer for one of the nation’s largest public school systems, and, after moving to the West Coast, creator and owner of his own public relations and marketing firm. Moving from one career field to another, he could not seem to find occupational satisfaction, his relationship life was in constant turmoil and his health was going rapidly downhill.

He had relocated in Oregon as part of a change-of-scene strategy to find his way, but Fate was to provide more than a change of scene. It produced a change in his entire life. A car driven by an elderly gentleman made a left turn directly into his path, Neale emerging from the auto accident with a broken neck. He was lucky to escape with his life.

Over a year of rehab threw him out of work. A failed marriage had already removed him from his home, and soon he couldn’t keep even the small apartment he’d rented. Within months he found himself on the street, homeless. It took him the better part of a year to pull himself together and get back under shelter. He found, at first, modest part time jobs, once again in broadcasting, then worked his way into full time employment and an eventual spot as a syndicated radio talk show host.

He had seen the bottom of life, living in the weather, gathering beer and soda cans in the park to collect the return deposit-but now he seemed to be on a roll again. Yet, once more Neale felt an emptiness in his life. In 1992, following a period of deep despair, Neale awoke in the middle of a February night and wrote an anguished letter to God. “What does it take,” he angrily scratched across a yellow legal pad, “to make life work?”

Now well chronicled and widely talked about, it was this questioning letter that received a Divine answer. Neale says that he heard a voice, soft and kind, warm and loving, that gave him an answer to this and other questions. Awestruck and inspired, he quickly scribbled these responses onto the tablet.

More questions came, and, as fast as they occurred to him, answers were given in the same soft voice, which now seemed placed inside his head. Before he knew it, Neale found himself engaged in a two-way on-paper dialogue. He continued this first “conversation” for hours, and had many more in the weeks that followed, always awakening in the middle of the night and being drawn back to his legal pad. Neale’s handwritten notes would later become the best-selling Conversations with God books. He says the process was “exactly like taking dictation,” and that the dialogue created in this way was published without alteration or editing.

In July, 2005 Neale completed the final CwG dialogue book, HOME WITH God in a Life that Never Ends, to be released in March, 2006 by Atria Books, a division of Simon and Schuster. The book covers areas never before discussed in any of the previous CwG texts, of which there are nine, including Conversations with God-Book 1, Conversations with God-Book 2, Conversations with God-Book 3, Friendship with God, Communion with God, Conversations with God for Teens, the New Revelations, Tomorrow’s God, and What God Wants.

In 2001 Neale founded Humanity’s Team, which he has described as a worldwide civil rights movement for a soul (HumanitysTeam.com). In 2005 he began work on putting into place a global education program, The School of Theology of the New Spirituality (Schooofthenewspirituality.com). In early 2006 he created The Group of 1000, a community of supporters who seek to place Schools of the New Spirituality in cities, towns, and villages from around the world.

The Pickle Jar

By: Shammi.

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents’ bedroom.

When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy, I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar.

They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar to admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate’s treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the Jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.


Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. ‘Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You’re going to do better than me. This old mill town’s not going to hold you back.’

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. ‘These are for my son’s college fund. He’ll never work at the mill all his life like me.’

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for a nice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. ‘When we get home, we’ll start filling the jar again.’ He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. ‘You’ll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,’ he said. ‘But you’ll get there; I’ll see to that.’

No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me ‘When you finish college, Son,’ he told me, his eyes glistening, ‘You’ll never have to eat beans again – unless you want to.’

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words: he never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad’s arms. ‘She probably needs to be changed,’ she said, carrying the baby into my parents bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.

She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. ‘Look,’ she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.

This truly touched my heart. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life, for better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other’s lives to impact one another in some way. Look for GOOD in others.

“The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched – they must be felt with the heart”  ~ Helen Keller

– Happy moments, praise God.
– Difficult moments, seek God.
– Quiet moments, worship God.
– Painful moments, trust God.
– Every moment, thank God.

Thank you God and bless this person and his family who is reading this article with Love and Wisdom!

Properiety

By: R.Hundoo.

I am Rajeev Hundoo, and today I would like to write my own personal story about an incident that occurred in my young age and that changed me to a better person.

I remember when I was 17 and it was my first year of graduation, when my father received guests at home, the guests were my father’s colleague and his family and this kind of event was very usual, every Sunday this family would visit us and together both families would enjoy good moments.  Beans and rice was the usual spread.

On one of such Sunday, I remember coming home after completing some chores and entered the room.

Instead of greeting the guests with folded hands and say Namaste or Sat Sri Akaal (as he was a Sikh), I simply said, “Hello Uncle”.

My father’s immediate reaction was of anger. He started scolding me for saying “Hello” instead of proper salutations. Uncle tried to pacify my father that it was not such a grave matter. My father responded that I had to be taught a lesson so that next time I may not come forward to shake his hands.

He ordered me to go out and return again, to do proper salutation. So I did as per his order, I went out, returned and greeted uncle with Sat Sri Akaal and left the room immediately.  I was annoyed for being humiliated.

My father was a very loving person. In the evening when family friends had left, my father found me still sulking. He took me out to a Coffee shop and gave me a nice treat. This was his usual treatment after he had given me a dressing which though was rare.

After four decades as I reflect on it, I feel proud that my father had tried to inculcate proper upbringing at that time. Never in my life, have I forgotten to pay proper respects according to age or relationship.

My father expired in 2010, with age of 87. Even though when he was alive I may have disagreed with him on many situations, but after his departure, now I realize his teaching and all his words of wisdom. I truly miss you Dad, and you will be always alive inside my heart!

How many parents now days try to inculcate proper upbringing to their children by ignoring small issues? I think it is proper duty of parents to instill propriety in their children from any wrong they feel.

Robby’s Night

By: Shammi.

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines , Iowa .. I’ve always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons-something I’ve done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical ability…. I’ve never had the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have taught some talented students.

However I’ve also had my share of what I call ‘musically challenged’ pupils. One such student was Robby. Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single Mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby.

But Robby said that it had always been his mother’s dream to hear him play the piano.. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel but he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.

Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he’d always say, ‘My mom’s going to hear me play someday. But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons.

I thought about calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming.. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student’s homes a flyer on the upcoming recital.. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify… He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing ‘Miss Hondorf, I’ve just got to play!’ he insisted.

I don’t know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right. The night for the recital came The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my ‘curtain closer.’

Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed then Robby came up on stage.. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he’d run an eggbeater through it. ‘Why didn’t he dress up like the other students?’ I thought. ‘Why didn’t his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?’

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart’s Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys; they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo. From allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause.

Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. ‘I’ve never heard you play like that Robby! How’d you do it? ‘

Through the microphone Robby explained: ‘Well, Miss Hondorf, Remember I told you my Mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning and well. .. She was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.’

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I’ve never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy…Of Robby’s. He was the teacher and I was the pupil for it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don’t know why.

Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995.

Which Stool is More Stable?

By: Vinay Kumar.

Naturally, the 3-legged stool is more stable and more difficult to knock over.  Same applies to those who sell. Too many sales people rest on their laurels thinking they have a strong foot hold when they have an excellent relationship with their contact at their customer’s organization. But what happens when that person leaves, or has a change of heart?

If your relationship with a customer rests on a single contact, you could easily be pushed out. While certainly enjoy the relationship, be sure to also cultivate additional relationships.  Do this both vertically and horizontally, going high, deep and wide. This will give you a much stronger foot hold, as well as potentially lead to additional revenue opportunities.  And the more people you know, the more referral potential as well.

I strongly urge you to review your client list and ask yourself, in which organizations is your relationship like a 1-legged stool and then identify steps can you begin take to convert those to more like a 3-legged stool.  It’s well worth the investment.  Don’t delay.  Do today, as if your future depends on it, cause it very well may.

PS Similarly, actively strive to get more and more of your products and services into your customers organizations for this too makes it harder for a competitor to enter your space as well as for your customer to displace you. Moreover, it’s easier to sell more to your existing clients then to get new ones.

Touching Message

By: R.Hundoo.

One day Maths teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

 
On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. “Really?” she heard whispered. “I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!” and, “I didn’t know others liked me so much,” were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn’t matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students who joined the Army was killed in action and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never attended Funeral of a serviceman before. He looked so handsome, so mature.
The place was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk. The teacher was the last one to bless.

As she stood there, one of the pallbearer came up to her. “Were you Sanjay’s math teacher?” he asked.

She nodded: “yes.”

Then he said: “Sanjay talked about you a lot.”
After the funeral, most of Sanjay’s former classmates were there. Sanjay’s mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.
“We want to show you something,” his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket “They found this on Sanjay when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.”
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Sanjay’s classmates had said about him.
“Thank you so much for doing that,” Sanjay’s mother said. “As you can see, Sanjay treasured it.”

All of Sanjay’s former classmates started to gather around. Arjun smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It’s in the top drawer of my desk at home.”
Prithwiraj’s wife said, ” Prithwiraj asked me to put his in our wedding album.”

“I have mine too,” Rashmi said. “It’s in my diary”

Then Deepali, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Deepali said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: “I think we all saved our lists”.
That’s when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Sanjay and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don’t know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

And One Way To Accomplish This Is: Forward this message on. If you do not send it, you will have, once again passed up the wonderful opportunity to do something nice and beautiful. But its up to U to fwd this one.
If you’ve received this, it is because someone cares for you and it means there is probably at least someone for whom you care.

Remember, you reap what you sow. What you put into the lives of others comes back into your own.

May Your Day Be Blessed As Special As You are.

Non-Violence In Parenting.

By: R.Hundoo.

Dr. Arun Gandhi, grandson of Mahatma Gandhi and founder of the M.K. Gandhi  Institute for Non-violence, in his June 9 lecture at the University of Puerto Rico , shared the following story as an example of “non-violence in parenting”

“I was 16 years old and living with my parents at the institute my grandfather had founded 18 miles outside of Durban, South Africa, in the middle of the sugar plantations. We were deep in the country and had no neighbors, so my two sisters and I would always look forward to going to
town to visit friends or go to the movies.

One day, my father asked me to drive him to town for an all-day conference, and I jumped at the chance. Since I was going to town, my mother gave me a list of groceries she needed and, since I had all day in town, my father ask me to take care of several pending chores, such as getting the car serviced. When I dropped my father off that morning, he said, ‘ I will meet you here at 5:00 p.m., and we will go home together.’

 

After hurriedly completing my chores, I went straight to the nearest movie theatre. I got so engrossed in a John Wayne double-feature that I forgot the time. It was 5:30 before I remembered. By the time I ran to the garage and got the car and hurried to where my father was waiting for me, it was almost 6:00.

He anxiously asked me, ‘ Why were you late? ‘I was so ashamed of telling him I was watching a John Wayne western movie that I said, ‘ The car wasn’t ready, so I had to wait, not realizing that he had already called the garage. When he caught me in the lie, he said: ‘There’s something
wrong in the way I brought you up that didn’t give you the confidence to tell me the truth. In order to figure out where I went wrong with you, I’m going to walk home 18 miles and think about it. ‘

So, dressed in his suit and dress shoes, he began to walk home in the dark on mostly unpaved, unlit roads. I couldn’t leave him, so for five-and-a-half hours I drove behind him, watching my father go through this agony for a stupid lie that I uttered. I decided then and there that I was never going to lie again.

I often think about that episode and wonder, if he had punished me the way we punish our children, whether I would have learned a lesson at all. I don’t think so. I would have suffered the punishment and gone on doing the same thing. But this single non-violent action was so powerful that it is still as if it happened yesterday. That is the power of non-violence.”

“Forgiveness is giving up my right to hate you for hurting me”

The Priest & The Mallu

By: Shammi.

A Priest dies and is awaiting his turn in line at the Pearly Gates. Ahead of him is a guy, fashionably dressed, in dark sun glasses, a loud shirt, leather jacket & jeans.

God asks him: Please tell me who you are, so that I may know whether to admit you into the kingdom of Heaven or not.

The Guy replies: I am Malayalee , KSRTC driver from Kerala!!!

God consults his ledger………….. smiles and says to the Mallu: Please take this silken robe & gold scarf and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

Now it is the Priest’s turn. He stands erect and speaks out in a booming voice: I am Pope’s Assistant so & so, Head Priest of the so & so Church for the last 40 years.

God consults his ledger & says to the Priest: Please take this Cotton Robe & enter the Kingdom of Heaven…

‘Just a minute’ says the agonized Priest.  ‘How is it that a foul mouthed, rash Driver is given a Silken robe & a Golden scarf  and me, a Priest, who’s spent his whole life preaching your Name & goodness has to make do with a Cotton robe?’

‘Results my friend, Results,’ shrugs God. ‘While you preached, people SLEPT; but when he drove, people PRAYED’

It’s PERFORMANCE & not POSITION that ultimately counts…

Your personality, when you undress?

By: R.Hundoo.

Amazing but true…. How you get undressed reveals your personality ……..!!

1) If you throw your clothes all over the place, you are a friendly, life-of-the- party type. You are free with your thoughts and opinions, not caring much about what others think of you. Your parents might think your room looks like a cyclone hit it? But it actually represents your happy, individualistic nature!

2) If you remove each piece of clothing and put it away carefully, you are a serious person who likes her life to be very calm. You are comfortable with routine, and you believe that the best way to deal with life’s problems is to prevent them in the first place. You are a perfectionist. By nature you are quite shy. You are observant and you know more about some people than they think, just because you’ve watched them. You are dependable and sometimes intense. You think carefully before making decisions. You go about your tasks methodically, with concentration. You know how to pay attention.

3) If you take off the shirt, and ten minutes later get around to the pants, you are an extremely self-confident person. You are naturally bright and intellectual. You are also a deep thinker who loves to ask questions and ponder the meaning of things. You hate being rushed and you do not like to be hassled. Usually you like a lot of free time for yourself.

4) If you get out of your clothes as quickly as possible, you are concerned about others and what they expect from you, but you’re worried about your own needs. You are family-oriented, and stay extremely busy. You often feel stressed, but most of those heavy expectations come from your own head! Give yourself a break; you don’t have to be perfect.

5) If you take off your rings, earrings, necklace, watch, etcetera before anything else, you are a warm and sensitive person. You are considerate and thoughtful, and you give good advice to your friends. You are a natural born romantic.

6) If you don’t have an undressing routine and you never do it the same way twice, you are a very curious and interesting person. You enjoy a broad range of activities. You take risks and enjoy fun and adventure. You are very social.

So which option describes your personality? Don’t be shy, I will reveal mine, once you start commenting.