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From time to time, you might find a story, a quote or a message that is heartfelt and inspiring. Here are Holding Hands "Hands2Heart" inspirations that we would like to share with you

Little Eyes See A Lot
The Starfish Story

Simplicity

God has given us a gift; the gift of life We have the opportunity to create, to love and to just simply be. Yet we torment our being to the core, with lies and untruth. We convince we are unable, we are not loved and we are not good enough. That is simply untrue, that is a negative creation of our own minds and ego.

We are capable, we are good and we are able to love. Be true to WHO you are, do kind acts and simply be a good person. When in doubt don’t do, when in love show the love but foremost be true to the core of the feeling, be true to the truth and be true to YOU.

When negativity knocks don’t answer, when people tempt walk away and when the truth hurts still listen. It is when we are quiet with oneself and hear the sounds of nature the birds singing, the crickets chirping and the wind blowing a sweet melody, that we are able to hear.

Allow the time to be, take the time to purely breathe and take the time to be together with the ones you love and love you back. Forgive the simple mistakes, forgive yourself for the past and live in today soaking in the birth of each sunrise and sunset.

It is with our soul and pure being that we can create miracles. The power of the love given to you and the truth of your heart can heal the wounds and can mend the hopes of your soul. Fear is an obstacle of the mind, let it go and the freedom of the true you will excel to the depths of the sea.

You are the best gift ever given to you! SIMPLY love you, be true to you and just be YOU!

By: Alyson Lee Hawkins

The Sandpiper
By Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.
I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world
Begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something
And looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said.

I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

"I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.

A sandpiper glided by.

"That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"

"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself,
Hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed
Completely out of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.

"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."

"Hi, Wendy."

She giggled. "You're funny," she said.

In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.

"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings,
And an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out
Of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.

The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was
Chilly b ut I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.

"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't know. You say."

"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."

"Then let's just walk."

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.
"Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.

Strange, I thought, in winter.

"Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was
0AOn other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no
Mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt
Like demanding she keep her child at home.

"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd
Rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.

"Why?" she asked.

I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought,
My God, why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."

"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt?" she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding,
Wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up
To the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. ; A drawn looking
Young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today
And wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance,
Please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing
that I meant what I had just said.

"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia.
Maybe she didn't tell you."

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.
She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left
something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment whi le I look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young
woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold
childish letters. Inside was a drawing i n bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach,
a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully pr inted:

A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love
opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,
I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little
picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year
of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.

A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand
-- who taught me the gift of love.

NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20
years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder
to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.
The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.

Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas
can make us lose focus about what is truly important
or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.

This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means,
take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses .
May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences!

Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside
anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
I wish for you, a sandpiper.

 

 

People are often unreasonable and self-centered
Forgive them anyway

If you are kind people may accuse you of ulterior motives
Be kind anyway

If you are honest people may cheat you
Be honest anyway

If you find happiness people may be jealous
Be happy anyway

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow
Do good anyway

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough
Give your best anyway

For you see in the end it is between you and God
It never was between you and them anyway

- Mother Teresa -