For mE ReaL LOVE is..

Real love for me is seeing the person happy with or with out you in their life. You don't have to be always there to make them happy and if its not you who can make them happy then set them free. Being with someone whom can't make you happy is more lonely than being alone. Setting someone free in your heart or leaving the people whom you really love is not being hard or selfish, for me it's the right thing to do and it would be the best for the both of you. My point here is: 

-if the one you love, loves someone else just let go don't run after someone who love's another one it could only hurt you and the other person involve.

At first it would be really sad for you because letting someone go in your life is not really easy as what you think. Not seeing them again, not doing the usual things you do and finally the mere fact that your out of his life will really hurt you but if you really love him what makes him happy would make you realize that what you did was great. 

One thing I always put in mind is 

"If someone is in a relationship, respect their status don't be the reason why they end up being single"

I know you love her.. just go that would really hurt but if that really makes you happy I will be happy too. I have done that twice in my life(letting go of someone special), I know I can do it again. I know you wont notice if I decided to go. I respect your happiness and more enough I respect you. Always be happy.. I hope we could always still be friends.. :D :D :D

Birthday Wish List

I don't like expensive gifts as what many other people wants. I just want to be with the best people on my birthday. I also want something like this ohhh!! hahahaha.. Last year I was able to get my gift (riding a small boat). I hope this year someone could give me a helium baloon for my birthday!! hahahaha.. 

Simple things can always make me happy.

March 04, 2013

Mr. U

I’m not asking you to stay forever in my life. Just stay as long as you like no whys, no hows, no buts, no promises. Basta nandyan ka, it’s more than enough.

-you really make me happy in a way that no any other can. Amping Permi!!! :D

Counting DAYS' !!!! :D

Good Friends will always remember your Birthday with or with out notifications!! :D

WOMAN AND A FORK

From Sandy, author unknown

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live.

Therefore, as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.

" What's that?" the Pastor's reply.

"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement.

In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.'

It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming ... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!

So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, What's with the fork?'

Then I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork, the best is yet to come.'

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death.

But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge.

She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket, they saw the cloak she was wearing, and the fork placed in her right hand.

Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over, he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her.

He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.

THE GIFT

Here is a true story about a nine year old boy who lived in a rural town in Tennessee.

His house was in a poor area of the community.  A church had a bus ministry that came knocking on his door one Saturday afternoon.  The kid came to answer the door and greeted the bus pastor.  The bus pastor asked if his parents were home, and the small boy told him that his parents take off every weekend and leave him at home to take care of his little brother.  The bus pastor couldn't believe what the kid said and asked him to repeat it.  The youngster gave the same answer, and the bus pastor asked to come in and talk with him.  They went into the living room and sat down on an old couch with the foam and springs exposed.  The bus pastor asked the kid, "Where do you go to church?"  The young boy surprised the visitor by replying, "I've never been to church in my whole life."  The bus pastor thought to himself about the fact that his church was less than three miles from the child's house.  "Are you sure you have never been to church?" he asked again.  "I sure haven't," came his answer.  Then the bus pastor said, "Well, son, more important than going to church, have you ever heard the greatest love story ever told?", and then proceeded to share the Gospel with this little nine year old boy.  The young lad's heart began to be tenderized, and at the end of the bus pastor's story, the bus pastor asked if the boy wanted to receive this free gift from God.  The youngster exclaimed, "You bet!"  The kid and the bus pastor got on their knees and the lad invited Jesus into his little heart and received the free gift of salvation.  They both stood up and the bus pastor asked if he could pick the kid up for church the next morning.  "Sure," the nine year old replied.

The bus pastor got to the house early the next morning and found the lights off.  He let himself in, snaked his way through the house, and found the little boy asleep in his bed.  He woke up the little boy and his brother and helped get them dressed.  They got on the bus and ate a donut for breakfast on their way to church.  Keep in mind that this boy had never been to church before.  The church was a real big one.  The little kid just sat there, clueless of what was going on.

A few minutes into the service, these tall unhappy guys walked down to the front and picked up some wooden plates.  One of the men prayed and the kid, with utter fascination, watched them walk up and down the aisles.  He still didn't know what was going on.  All of a sudden, like a bolt of lightning, it hit the kid what was taking place.  These people must be giving money to Jesus.  He then reflected on the free gift of life he had received just twenty-four hours earlier.  He immediately searched his pockets, front and back, and couldn't find a thing to give Jesus.  By this time the offering plate was being passed down his aisle and, with a broken heart, he just grabbed the plate and held on to it.  He finally let go and watched it pass on down the aisle.  He turned around to see it passed down the aisle behind him.  And then his eyes remained glued on the plate as it was passed back and forth, all the way to the rear of the sanctuary.

Then he had an idea.  This little nine year old boy, in front of God and everybody, got up out of his seat.  He walked about eight rows back, grabbed the usher by the coat and asked to hold the plate one more time.  Then he did the most astounding thing I have ever heard of.  He took the plate, sat it on the carpeted church floor and stepped into the center of it.  As he stood there, he lifted his little head up and said, "Jesus, I don't have anything to give you today, but just me.  I give you me!"


- AUTHOR UNKNOWN -

THE PEARLS

The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five.  Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them:  a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.  "Oh please, Mommy.  Can I have them?  Please, Mommy, please!"

Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face.  "A dollar ninety-five.  That's almost $2.00.  If you really want them, you can save enough money to buy them for yourself.  Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies.  After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents.   On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill, and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls.  They made her feel dressed up and grown up.  She wore them everywhere -- Sunday School, kindergarten, even to bed.  The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath.  Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story.  One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?"  Oh yes, Daddy.  You know that I love you."  "Then give me your pearls."  "Oh, Daddy, not my pearls.  But you can have Princess -- the white horse from my collection.  The one with the pink tail.  Remember, Daddy?  The one you gave me.  She's my favorite."  "That's okay, Honey.  Daddy loves you.  Good night."  And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"  "Daddy, you know I love you."  "Then give me your pearls."  "Oh Daddy, not my pearls.  But you can have my baby doll.  The brand new one I got for my birthday.  She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."  "That's okay.  Sleep well.  God bless you, little one.  Daddy loves you."  And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style.  As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.  "What is it, Jenny?  What's the matter?"

Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy.  And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace.  With a little quiver, she finally said, "Here, Daddy.  It's for you."

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a stand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.  He had had them all the time.  He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.


So like our heavenly Father, what are you  hanging on to?


- WRITTEN BY ALICE GRAY -

TO REMEMBER ME

The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying.  At a certain moment, a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped. 

When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine.  And don't call this my deathbed.  Let it be called the Bed of Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.

Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.  Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.

Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.  Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist.  Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body, and find a way to make a crippled child walk.

Explore every corner of my brain.  Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat, and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.

Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.  If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses and all prejudice against my fellow man.

If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you.  If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.


- WRITTEN BY ROBERT N. TEST -