What are the best gifts that you get?

[RodISHI]

I am wondering what you all believe are the best gifts that you get?


Our family is not big on the traditional gift giving. Yet my children give me gifts on a continual basis.


Every year my daughter sends me this email story to remind me how precious the gift of truly giving your heart to others means.

Teddy Stoddard


As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an ex cellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his moth er has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken.."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy... He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's deg ree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it.. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? tomorrow? just "do it".

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!

"Believe in Angels, then return the favor"

 

[RodISHI]

Another email my daughter sent me.


God doesn't make mistakes. He puts us where we are to be. They say there are no mistakes, for everything there is a purpose. Makes you think. We'll never know where our paths will take us!


THE WRONG FUNERAL

Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend-my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.
When mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her.
I counted it an honor. 'What now, Lord?' I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand.
My sister sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone.
My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor.
An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. 'I'm late,' he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, 'Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret?'' 'Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her 'Mary,'' I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?
'No, that isn't correct,' he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, 'Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.' 'That isn't who this is.' 'Isn't this the Lutheran church?'
'No, the Lutheran church is across the street.' 'Oh.' 'I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir.'
The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.
The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.
I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.
At the final 'Amen,' we darted out a door and into the parking lot. 'I do believe we'll be the talk of the town,' he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.
That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor.
This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.

In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, 'Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's truly a match made in heaven.'


What a precious story of hope for each of us. Who would have ever thought that God would use a funeral to get two people together! God is big and he cares about us so intimately. Don't ever give up, but expect God to work in ways that will thrill your heart! Send this note of hope to those who need encouragement today to continue believing that God is working and He cares about their lives! I love my God. He is my source of existence, my Lord and Savior. He keeps me functioning each and everyday. Without Him, I would be nothing. Without him, I am nothing, but with Him I can do all things, through Christ that strengthens me. (Phil. 4:13)

Have a Blessed Day!

 

[Zoom-boing]

Thank you so much for posting these stories. My throat is still achy from reading the first one.

I have always believed that things happen for a reason, even though at the time we may not be able to see it. My daughter is a freshman at college and also feels strongly about this. She recently wrote this after being 'tagged' in facebook notes. She's a terrific kid!

"I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason. I can never explain it fully to someone who doesn't get it, but I know that if something crappy happens it's because something good can come from it. People need to take the time to stop whining about their problems and look closer at their lives to see how these so called problems are really changing it. I would bet money (if i had any) that most people would realize that many of the things--good things-- they've experienced in life would not have happened without something bad happening to them first. Open your eyes."

Thanks again for sharing these stories -- I will be passing them along. Merry Christmas to you and your family!

 

[tigerbob]

Every year my daughter sends me this email story to remind me how precious the gift of truly giving your heart to others means.

Beautiful.

Please pass on my thanks to your daughter.

 

[RodISHI]

You are both very welcome.

Thank you for sharing Zoom.

Will do Bob.

 

[catzmeow]

I am wondering what you all believe are the best gifts that you get?


Our family is not big on the traditional gift giving. Yet my children give me gifts on a continual basis.


Every year my daughter sends me this email story to remind me how precious the gift of truly giving your heart to others means.

One of my first clients was a boy who was nicknamed Casper by his gang because he was so lily white. I knew him for five years. Over the course of those five years, I learned that:

1) His father had burnt his brain out years ago with drugs.
2) Casper had never eaten a meal in a restaurant with a fork and knife. In fact, what food he ate was mostly out of cans and he prepared it himself. His father never worked during the time that I knew him, and they survived on the father's social security payments.
3) His mother was psychotic and had been institutionalized for most of his life.
4) Casper had been kicked out of 3 schools for behavior issues.
5) He'd never been to the dentist in his life. Many of his teeth were rotting out. That's why he never smiled. He must have been in nearly constant pain.
6) He was intellectually gifted, according to one secure facility he was placed in for about a year. He could have been an engineer or something requiring high level math skills.

In 1999, he went to prison for playing a role as an accessory in a double homicide. I moved from my state then to Florida that same year. In 2003, his family called me to tell me that he'd taken my advice and graduated from high school while in prison. He told me to tell them that I was the only person who ever believed in him in his life. He was released from prison in 2005.

I haven't seen him, but I still think about him nearly every day.

In this country, there are literally millions of kids just like Casper.

 

[random3434]

One of my first clients was a boy who was nicknamed Casper by his gang because he was so lily white. I knew him for five years. Over the course of those five years, I learned that:

1) His father had burnt his brain out years ago with drugs.
2) Casper had never eaten a meal in a restaurant with a fork and knife. In fact, what food he ate was mostly out of cans and he prepared it himself. His father never worked during the time that I knew him, and they survived on the father's social security payments.
3) His mother was psychotic and had been institutionalized for most of his life.
4) Casper had been kicked out of 3 schools for behavior issues.
5) He'd never been to the dentist in his life. Many of his teeth were rotting out. That's why he never smiled. He must have been in nearly constant pain.
6) He was intellectually gifted, according to one secure facility he was placed in for about a year. He could have been an engineer or something requiring high level math skills.

In 1999, he went to prison for playing a role as an accessory in a double homicide. I moved from my state then to Florida that same year. In 2003, his family called me to tell me that he'd taken my advice and graduated from high school while in prison. He told me to tell them that I was the only person who ever believed in him in his life. He was released from prison in 2005.

I haven't seen him, but I still think about him nearly every day.

In this country, there are literally millions of kids just like Casper.

Yes there are. All it takes sometimes is that ONE person to show interest, and to show that they care.

I hope you can somehow find out what he's up to now.....



reresents from students....that first post about the student giving his teacher a gift...I had a boy wrap up a half bottle of lotion and bubble bath, and was so excited for me to open it...I was THRILLED that he took the trouble to do that. He kept telling me to put on the lotion (no Silence of the Lambs jokes please! ) and I kept it on my desk and made sure he saw me put on the lotion everyday. He was one of those boys labeled a "trouble maker" by society, but he was the sweetest boy in my classroom. He knew how much I cared about him and believed in him.

 

[editec]

My son tried to palm off a heart warming story on me last Christmas, that cheap bastard.

If the little cheapskate doesn't give me foot warming wool socks this Christmas, he'll be looking for another place to sleep come Dec 26th!

 

[RodISHI]

KURTIS THE STOCK BOY AND BRENDA THE CHECKOUT GIRL

In a supermarket, Kurtis the stockboy, was busily working when a new voice came over the loud speaker asking for a carry out at register 4.


Kurtis was almost finished, and wanted to get some fresh air, and decided to answer the call. As he approached the check-out stand a distant smile caught his eye, the new check-out girl was beautiful. She was an older woman (maybe 26, and he was only 22) and he fell in love.

Later that day, after his shift was over, he waited by the punch clock to find out her name. She came into the break room, smiled softly at him, took her card and punched out, then left. He looked at her card, BRENDA. He walked out only to see her start walking up the road. Next day, he waited outside as she left the supermarket, and offered her a ride home. He looked harmless enough, and she accepted. When he dropped her off, he asked if maybe he could see her again, outside of work. She simply said it wasn't possible.

He pressed and she explained she had two children and she couldn't afford a baby-sitter, so he offered to pay for the baby-sitter. Reluctantly she accepted his offer for a date for the following Saturday. That Saturday night he arrived at her door only to have her tell
him that she was unable to go with him. The baby-sitter had called and canceled. To which Kurtis simply said, "Well, let's take the kids with us."

She tried to explain that taking the children was not an option, but again not taking no for an answer, he pressed. Finally Brenda, brought him inside to meet her children. She had an older daughter who was just as cute as a bug, Kurtis thought, then Brenda brought out her son, in a wheelchair. He was born a paraplegic with Down Syndrome.

Kurtis asked Brenda, "I still don't understand why the kids can't come with us?" Brenda was amazed. Most men would run away from a woman with two kids, especially if one
had disabilities - just like her first husband and father of her children had done. Kurtis was not ordinary - - - he had a different mindset.

That evening Kurtis and Brenda loaded up the kids, went to dinner and the movies. When her son needed anything Kurtis would take care of him. When he needed to use the restroom, he picked him up out of his wheelchair, took him and brought him back. The kids loved Kurtis. At the end of the evening, Brenda knew this was the man she was going
to marry and spend the rest of her life with.

A year later, they were married and Kurtis adopted both of her children. Since then they have added two more kids.

So what happened to Kurtis the stock boy and Brenda the check-out girl? Well, Mr. & Mrs. Kurt Warner now live in Arizona , where he is currently employed as the quarterback of the National Football League Arizona Cardinals and has his Cardinals playing in the Super Bowl. Is this a surprise ending or could you have guessed that he was not an ordinary person?

It should be noted that he also quarterbacked the Rams in Super Bowl XXXVI. He has also been the NLF's Most Valuable Player twice, and the Super Bowl's Most Valuable Player.


AND THE REST OF THE STORY:

Today at church our minister mentioned that when Kurt, his wife and 7 children go out to eat he has one of his children pick out a family eating at the restaurant. Kurt then tells the wait staff he is picking up the tab for that family's dinner anonymously. He remembers the days he was working nights in the grocery store and feeding his family on food stamps.

Makes it hard not to root for the Cardinals IN THE SUPER BOWL since they won today...doesn't it?

 

[Sky Dancer]

Human life is a gift. Realizing it's potential is a gift. Having the capacity to give and recieve love is a gift. Being present in the moment is a gift.

 

[Againsheila]

I like homemade gifts the best. I have a curio cabinet my father made and a beautiful cedar chest that my uncle in law made for my mother in law and I inherited. I have a homemade and home decorated jewelry box. I even have a homemade matchbox that was made by a relative in 1815 or 1816, it's kind of hard to read the date on the bottom as I get older. No, it wasn't made for me, I'm not THAT old, I inherited it.

 

[RodISHI]

Little reminders along the way.

MAGNOLIAS..........By Edna Ellison I spent the week before my daughter's June wedding running last-minute trips to the caterer, florist, tuxedo shop, and the church about forty miles away.

As happy as I was that Patsy was marrying a good Christian young man, I felt laden with responsibilities as I watched my budget dwindle . .

So many details, so many bills, and so little time. My son Jack was away at college, but he said he would be there to walk his younger sister down the aisle, taking the place of his dad who had died a few years before. He teased Patsy, saying he'd wanted to give her away since she was about three years old!

To save money, I gathered blossoms from several friends who had large magnolia trees. Their luscious, creamy-white blooms and slick green leaves would make beautiful arrangements against the rich dark wood inside the church.

After the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, we banked the podium area and choir loft with magnolias. As we left just before midnight, I felt tired but satisfied this would be the best wedding any bride had ever had! The music, the ceremony, the reception - and especially the flowers - would be remembered for years.

The big day arrived - the busiest day of my life - and while her bridesmaids helped Patsy to dress, her fiance Tim walked with me to the sanctuary to do a final check. When we opened the door and felt a rush of hot air, I almost fainted; and then I saw them - all the beautiful white flowers were black. Funeral black. An electrical storm during the night had knocked out the air conditioning system, and on that hot summer day, the flowers had wilted and died.

I panicked, knowing I didn't have time to drive back to our hometown, gather more flowers, and return in time for the wedding.

Tim turned to me. 'Edna, can you get more flowers? I'll throw away these dead ones and put fresh flowers in these arrangements.'
I mumbled, 'Sure,' as he be-bopped down the hall to put on his cuff links.

Alone in the large sanctuary, I looked up at the dark wooden beams in the arched ceiling. 'Lord,' I prayed, 'please help me. I don't know anyone in this town. Help me find someone willing to give me flowers - in a hurry!' I scurried out praying for four things: the blessing of white magnolias, courage to find them in an unfamiliar yard, safety from any dog that may bite my leg, and a nice person who would not get out a shotgun when I asked to cut his tree to shreds.

As I left the church, I saw magnolia trees in the distance. I approached a house...No dog in sight. I knocked on the door and an older man answered. So far so good. No shotgun. When I stated my plea the man beamed, 'I'd be happy to!'

He climbed a stepladder and cut large boughs and handed them down to me. Minutes later, as I lifted the last armload into my car trunk, I said, 'Sir, you've made the mother of a bride happy today.'
'No, Ma'am,' he said. 'You don't understand what's happening here.'
'What?' I asked.
'You see, my wife of sixty-seven years died on Monday. On Tuesday I received friends at the funeral home, and on Wednesday. He paused. I saw tears welling up in his eyes. 'On Wednesday I buried her.' He looked away. 'On Thursday most of my out-of-town relatives went back home, and on Friday - yesterday - my children left.'
I nodded.
'This morning,' he continued, 'I was sitting in my den crying out loud. I miss her so much. For the last sixteen years, as her health got worse, she needed me. But now nobody needs me. This morning I cried, 'Who needs an eighty-six-year-old wore-out man? Nobody!' I began to cry louder. 'Nobody needs me!' About that time, you knocked, and said, 'Sir, I need you.'
I stood with my mouth open.
He asked, 'Are you an angel? The way the light shone around your head into my dark living room...'
I assured him I was no angel.
He smiled. 'Do you know what I was thinking when I handed you those magnolias?'
'No.'
'I decided I'm needed. My flowers are needed. Why, I might have a flower ministry! I could give them to everyone! Some caskets at the funeral home have no flowers. People need flowers at times like that and I have lots of them. They're all over the backyard! I can give them to hospitals, churches - all sorts of places. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to serve the Lord until the day He calls me home!'

I drove back to the church, filled with wonder. On Patsy's wedding day, if anyone had asked me to encourage someone who was hurting, I would have said, 'Forget it! It's my only daughter's wedding, for goodness' sake! There is no way I can minister to anyone today.'

But God found a way. Through dead flowers.

'Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.'

If you have missed knowing me, you have missed nothing.
If you have missed some of my emails, you may have missed a laugh. But, if you have missed knowing my LORD and SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST, you have missed everything in the world.

May God's blessings be upon you.

THIS IS SO TRUE, BEING NEEDED IS SO UPLIFTING TO EACH OF US..

This story is too beautiful not to send...

 

[editec]

My son bought me an oversized skillet a few years back that was a great gift.

Every time I use it (which is pretty frequently since it's just such a great cooking surface for eggs and so forth) I am reminded of who gave it me.

Tools, tools that people will actually use regularly, are great gifts for most men, I think.

Women? Well they're a little harder to buy for since one cannot buy them clothes (exception scarves and gloves) and KNOW they'll fit or they'll really like them.

Since I am something of a coward, I tend to buy expensive perfume if I can figure out before-hand what kind of expensive perfume the woman likes.

Somewhere around my house there's a beautiful cigarette case and matching lighter I bought my mother when I was about 16.

I have those, now, because thirty years later she died of lung related illness.

In retrospect, I sort of wish I'd bought her perfume..or for that matter, a really good skillet.

 

[random3434]

My 13 year old daughter made me a Valentine Card and gave it to me yesterday. It said:

To Mom:

Happy Valentines Day

Thanks for all you do for me

I love you!


she had made colored hearts all over it. See, 13 year old girls aren't so bad!



It was wonderful, she's a sweetie!

 

[RodISHI]

Originally written as a story for inspiration by Jonathan Butts and was originally published in September, 1998.

The Price of A Miracle?

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick..and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

" I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money."

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago .

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly.

"And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of a miracle for little brothers. "

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

"That surgery," her Mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost...one dollar and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.

In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need.

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.

 

[Cecilie1200]

Life is full of little gifts, if you bother to look for them and appreciate them.

I was supposed to go to a camping event in Flagstaff this last weekend with two of my friends. We were going to take my van, since one of them has no vehicle, and the other only has a compact car. Two days before we were supposed to live, my van went belly up. The mechanic said I shouldn't even drive it in town, let alone all the way from Tucson to Flagstaff. So I called my friends and told them I couldn't go, and they could probably manage the trip without me in David's car if they packed simply. Instead, David spent the day on the phone, calling all of his relatives until he found one with an SUV she was willing to loan him for the weekend. I haven't known David for very long, so it was very kind of him to be that determined that I get to go along.

My 19-year-old daughter and I had a troubled relationship through most of her adolescence. Lately, we've started to repair it and spend more time together. She doesn't have a lot of money right now, so for Mother's Day, she gave me a card she made that said, "Thanks for always loving me. I'm so glad that you're back in my life and we're getting back together." A couple of weeks ago, she was over at our house and her 13-year-old brother was complaining about me making him do his schoolwork (He's homeschooled). Sarah said, "You should listen to Mom and do your work. She's right, and you're going to regret it if you don't listen and get an education."

There's no greater gift for a mother than the day her kids realize and admit that she was right all along.