Cipher in the Snow.

A True Story

It started with tragedy on a biting cold February morning. I was driving behind the Milford Corners bus as I did most snowy mornings on my way to school. The bus veered and stopped short at the hotel, which it had no business doing, and I was annoyed as I had to come to an unexpected stop. The boy lurched out of the bus, reeled, stumbled, and collapsed on the snow bank at the curb. The bus driver and I reached him at the same moment. The boy’s thin, hollow face was white even against the snow.

"He's dead," the driver whispered.  

It didn't register for a minute. I glanced quickly at the scared young faces staring down at us from the school bus. 

"A doctor! Quick! I'll phone from the hotel . . ." 

"No use, I tell you, he's dead." The driver looked down at the boy's still form. 

"He never even said he felt bad," he muttered. "Just tapped me on the shoulder and said, real quiet, 'I'm sorry. I have to get off at the hotel.' That's all. Polite and apologizing like."

At school the giggling, shuffling morning noise quieted as news went down the halls. I passed a huddle of girls. "Who was it? Who dropped dead on the way to school?" I heard one of them half-whisper. "Don't know his name. Some kid from Milford Corners," was the reply. It was like that in the faculty room and the principal's office. 

"I'd appreciate your going out to tell the parents," the principal told me. 

"They haven't a phone, and anyway, somebody from the school should go there in person. I'll cover your classes." 

"Why me?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be better if you did it?" 

"I didn't know the boy," the principal admitted levelly. "And in last year's sophomore personalities column I noted that you were listed as his favorite teacher."

I drove through the snow and cold down the bad canyon road to the Evans' place and thought about the boy, Cliff Evans. His favorite teacher! I thought. He hasn't spoken two words to me in two years! I could see him in my mind's eye all right, sitting back there in the last seat in my afternoon literature class. He came in the room by himself and left by himself. "Cliff Evans," I muttered to myself, "a boy who never talked." I thought a minute. "A boy who never smiled. I never saw him smile once."

The big ranch kitchen was clean and warm. I blurted out my news somehow. Mrs. Evans reached blindly toward a chair. 

"He never said anything about bein' ailing." His stepfather snorted. "He ain't said nothin' about anything since I moved in here." 

Mrs. Evans pushed a pan to the back of the stove and began to untie her apron. 

"Now hold on," her husband snapped. "I got to have breakfast before I go to town. Nothin' we can do now, anyway. If Cliff hadn't been so dumb, he'd have told us he didn't feel good."

After school I sat in the office and stared blankly at the records spread out before me. I was to read the file and write the obituary for the school paper. The almost bare sheets mocked the effort. Cliff Evans, white, never legally adopted by stepfather, five young half-brothers and sisters. These meager strands of information and the list of "D" grades were all the records had to offer.

Cliff Evans had silently come in the school door in the mornings and gone out the school door in the evenings, and that was all. He had never belonged to a club. He had never played on a team. He had never held an office. As far as I could tell, he had never done one happy, noisy kid thing. He had never been anybody at all.

How do you go about making a boy into a zero? The grade-school records showed me. The first and second grade teachers' annotations read, "Sweet, shy child," "timid but eager." Then the third grade note had opened the attack. Some teacher had written in a good, firm hand, "Cliff won't talk. Uncooperative. Slow learner." The other academic sheep and followed with "dull," "slow-witted," "low I.Q." They became correct. The boy's I.Q score in the ninth grade was listed at 83. But his I.Q. in the third grade had been 106. The score didn't go under 100 until the seventh grade. Even the shy, timid, sweet children have resilience. It takes time to break them.

I stomped to the typewriter and wrote a savage report pointing out what education had done to Cliff Evans. I slapped a copy on the principal's desk and another in the sad, dog-eared file. I banged the typewriter and slammed the file and crashed the door shut, but I didn't feel much better. A little boy kept walking after me, a little boy with a peaked, pale face; a skinny body in faded jeans; and big eyes that had looked and searched for a long time and then had become veiled.

I could guess how many times he had been chosen last to play sides in a game, how many whispered child conversations had excluded him, how many times he hadn't been asked. I could see and hear the faces that said over and over, "You're nothing, Cliff Evans."

A child is a believing creature. Cliff undoubtedly believed them. Suddenly it seemed clear to me. When finally there was nothing left at all for Cliff Evans, he collapsed on a snow bank and went away. The doctor might list "heart failure" as the cause of death, but that wouldn't change my mind.

We couldn't find ten students in the school who had known Cliff well enough to attend the funeral as his friends. So the student body officers and a committee from the junior class went as a group to the church, being politely sad. I attended the services with them, and sat through it with a lump of cold lead in my chest and a big resolve growing through me.

I've never forgotten Cliff Evans nor that resolve. He has been my challenge year after year, class after class. I look for veiled eyes or bodies scrounged into a seat in an alien world. "Look, kids," I say silently. "I may not do anything else for you this year, but not one of you is going to come out of here as a nobody. I'll work or fight to the bitter end doing battle with society and the school board, but I won't have one of you coming out of there thinking himself a zero."

Most of the time -- not always, but most of the time -- I've succeeded.

(This true story was written by Jean Mizer, a teacher and guidance counselor from Idaho.  I have had this story for 30 years and still cry each time I read it and ponder over the fact that a child died from loneliness.)

The Power of One.

I have been in the powerful presence of many great people that I have had the honor of associating with and intrigued in the moral attributes they possess.  You know... those noble souls who walk into a room and their presence elevates the level of integrity; a magnificence that people gravitate toward like moths fluttering to a more brilliant light.  

I am not talking about the dull imitations coming from the Paris Hilton's of the world or about the parasites who ride upon the coat tails of another person's hard work and labor.  I am referring to those giant individuals who constantly replenish hope and inspire others with their human positive ion and sterling characters.  

One of these individuals was President Ronald Reagan, whom I had the honor of meeting when he was campaigning for Senator Orrin Hatch, a few years before he was elected to be our 40th president.  It was a privilege for me to hear him speak and I knew that I was in the presence of a great and noble man.   

I would love to see the history and moral fibers that bind integrity to self worth in the lives of many great leaders such as George Washington, Mother Teresa, Ghandi and many other valiant human beings.   What was the turning point that made these individuals into leaders of genuine uniqueness and how did they attain the brilliant light that caused others to gravitate into their presence?  I would love to know exactly when and how they became the change that they wanted to see happen in the world.    

I have drawn my own conclusions and I believe there are three characteristics that these people have in common.  One, they are constantly giving.  Two, they have the genuine ability to love without fears, limits, or conditions and three, they constantly strive to overcome all the challenges and obstacles placed before them.  

Being a giver doesn't mean that you walk around handing out money to strangers or people in need; although, this is a genuine gift of its own.  A giver is someone who has developed the ability to constantly replenish all things.  They are those gifted individuals who find "the good in dire circumstances" and gratitude is one of their greatest attributes.  Givers do not believe that the world owes them a living, in fact, they feel they cannot give back enough and are constantly looking for ways to make a difference.  They are never "down on their luck" for it's not luck that they believe will bring them prosperity, it's faith!   They neither borrow, nor steal for they are not the "takers"  they are the "givers"!  They help others understand the priceless value of life and are constantly sharing their light, wisdom, and appreciation in all things. 

Those gifted people in this world, who have the perpetual ability to love others without fears, limits, or conditions are the pillars of brilliant light that attract the lessor light, and they lead through their example.  They are constantly elevating others to a higher plain.  When donating their time and talents, they are the first to arrive and the last to leave, and they serve with an unlimited supply of positive energy.  They do not seek after accolades or acknowledgments for they believe it's redundant to receive recognition for doing what is right.  These great individuals understand the meaning of unconditional love and are loyal and committed to their country and fellowman.  They accept whole heartedly the responsibility to continually strive to become the full measure of their potential.  

These are they, who have achieved greatness because of the challenges in life, not in spite of them, and it was not affluence that made these people successful, it's their countenance! They used obstacles as stepping stones and courageously climbed each step until they were high enough to see what was on the other side!  They do not think about who they are... rather, they focus on what they are to become within the time frame God has granted.  What do you suppose would happen if we stopped thinking about who we are and started focusing on what we are to become?  I believe our lives would rapidly change. 

Anything in this life that is worth having, comes by virtue of wise choices, hard work, and perseverance.  Those who stand head and shoulders above the rest didn't get there by sleeping in, standing on their laurels, or dodging the challenges in life.  They hit the road running and the many scars of disappointment gradually faded into the savory taste of victory.  Written by, Linda Sumner Urza, One Fine Day 

Good Timber

by Douglas Malloch

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,
The stronger wind, the stronger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
The more the storm the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.

The Miracles in Christmas.

It was December 10, 1994, and I was suffering from the demands of too many responsibilities with so little time to accomplish my tasks.   It was Saturday evening and I knew it would take the rest of the night to prepare my Sunday school lesson, but I was exhausted from the busy day.   My lesson was on faith, hope, and charity and I had planned to share a Christmas story that was meaningful in my life.  

The story was about a young shepherd boy who had an encounter with the Savior, while he tended sheep along the hillside.  The young boy didn't know that the tall man he had welcomed into his camp was the Messiah.  He was eager to share the food his mother had prepared and reached into his bag bringing forth nuts, dried fruits, and a few wild berries -  but he carefully withheld the sweet bread she had made for his birthday gift.  It was a rare occasion to have such a treat.  

They sat together upon the hillside sharing the meager portions, but the shepherd boy felt sorrowful and ashamed that he was unwilling to share the gift that was tucked away inside his bag.   He humbly confessed that he had withheld the "best portion for himself" and as he brought forth the savory gift, he placed the small bundle before the Savior.  This time the shepherd boy gave all that he had and with a willing heart.  It was more than enough and it seemed fit for a king.

As the night progressed, it was time for the kind stranger to leave, but the shepherd boy begged his new friend to stay longer.  The Savior reached out,  placed His hand upon the boy's crooked and curved shoulders and healed the physical afflictions that the boy had since birth.  The Master disappeared into the night and tears of joy flowed from the shepherd boy's eyes, as he began to understand the miracles of this magnificent visit.

I knew the lesson would take a tremendous amount of preparation, but I had no idea what my efforts would call forward.  My intentions were to compile a small book containing the story of 'The Little Shepherd Boy' for each person in the class and place it in a brown paper bag with a small bundle of sweet cake for the lesson on faith, hope, and charity.  It was simple, but poignant in celebration of Christmas.

I worked late into the evening and I felt somewhat overwhelmed and alone.  I drove to the store to buy the sweet bread and noticed it was already half past nine.  I didn't know how I was going to finish the project  before midnight.  Tired and discouraged, the tears began to welt up in my eyes and in faith I offered a prayer for a little miracle to prevail on my behalf.  I had 36 books to compile (20 pages each) and I still had a lesson to prepare.  I collected my thoughts and entered the store.

When I was leaving through the front doors of the market, I caught a glimpse of a man standing a short distance from the entrance.  He was a tall thin man who's clothing seemed unusual and his appearance gave me the impression he was not from this country.  He was wearing a long shawl draped over his head that lay loosely upon his shoulders, hardly enough to keep him warm, and a robe of sorts that came down around his feet.  I could see that he was cold from this winter's night.

An elderly man was talking to this man and although, I couldn't hear what was being discussed, I felt drawn toward them.  When I approached the two men, I could hear broken English being spoken in a soft and reverent tone by the elderly man and then he addressed me.  "This man is hungry and he needs money to buy some food."  Before I could respond, he began searching through all of his pockets for whatever change he could find and placed everything into the strangers hand.  "I am sorry, this is all that I have." He humbly said. 

I began fumbling through my purse and found a few dollars and laid them in the man's hand beside the coins.  There was a genuine spirit of warmth that surrounded the bitter cold night.  Suddenly, the story of the young shepherd boy flashed through my mind,  "was I withholding the best portion for myself"?  Without hesitation, I reached back into my purse and gave all the money that I had.  Tears flooded my eyes and I quickly turned away to hide my overflow of emotions.  

I was walking toward my car when I heard someone calling.  "Lady...!"   I turned around to see the elderly man standing behind me, but I couldn't quite hear what he was saying.  "Excuse me," I replied and moved closer in his direction.  "Thank you for being so generous to the stranger."  He said with tears dripped from his eyes.  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and I whispered, "Thank you for being so kind to me!"    

In the parking lot of a grocery store, just off main street, the world seemed a little kinder, a little warmer, and a little more like Heaven than earth.  Three strangers witnessed the powerful miracles of faith, hope, and charity as peace prevailed on a cold and dreary night.

There is something magical about giving.  The world would have us believe that if something is given away, it's no longer apart of your life, but that's not true.  Heaven teaches that when something is given away it belongs to the lives of the giver and the receiver and all those who witness the spirit of the gift.  I've had a lot of money pass through my hands in my lifetime and have little or no recollection where much of it was spent, but I will never forget the gift that it afforded me that magnificent night on December 10, 1994.  by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day.

Seeing Beyond The Walls.

It's important to have gratitude in all things.  Even through the trials in life there is a divine purpose for developing gratitude, but it requires faith.  Faith is the virtue that allows us to building the spiritual muscles to stand before God and gratitude is the home where all virtues safely reside.

Many years ago I was driving to work when Paul Harvey came on the radio station.  Mr. Harvey's commentaries have graced the airwaves for decades; bringing the finest journalism into the hearts of millions.  On this particular morning he was narrating a story about positive thoughts and actions versus the negative in the lives of two men.   

The men were both recovering from surgeries and sharing the same room in the hospital.  One man had a bed by the window and the other was on the opposite side of the room.  As days passed by, the man next to the window could feel the despair and unhappiness of his roommate.  He felt compelled to brighten this man's life, so he pulled opened the curtain by his bedside and began to share the lovely view of the world below.   He described the beautiful park filled with children playing on the swings, the lovers arm in arm and beautiful swans gliding gracefully over the glassy pond.  Each day he described these wonderful things happening in the park with vivid details. 

The man on the opposite side of the room was intrigued and waited every morning with great anticipation to hear more about the outside world.  Soon his despair and unhappiness was replaced with the enthusiasm to live.  Although, he was unable to leave his bed or to see what was beyond the window pain, he imagined the beauty as it was being described by his new friend.  He imagined himself walking in the park, feeding the pigeons and sitting in the sun along the edge of the pond. 

One day he allowed selfishness to enter into his heart.  'Why does he have the bed by the window, I deserve my turn!'  He grumbled bitterly to himself.  Each day this bitterness grew until it consumed him and he could think of nothing else, but the guile of envy.  One night the man by the window seemed to be restless and he was having difficulties sleeping.  Hearing his friend's discomfort, the man on the other side of the room turned over with his face to the wall and mumbled, 'it serves him right' and he rolled over and fell asleep.

In the morning he awoke, he noticed that the bed by the window was empty and inquired about his friend.  He sat in sorrow as the nurse informed him that his roommate had died in the middle of the night.  After moments of sadness, he asked if he could have the bed by the window.  The nurse promptly moved him across the room and a few inches from the curtain, then she left the room.  He quickly reached over to the tassel hanging from the curtain and pulled it open with one swift motion.  There - just beyond the glass window was a solid brick wall.

Gratitude is the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation and willingness to return kindness.  It comes quietly when we listen with our hearts and desire to see with deserving eyes.  It has the power to change evil into good and a chaotic world into a heavenly place.   Anger and disdain surrender in the presence of gratitude and the world surrounding becomes an oases of peace.  by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day.

The Christmas Orange.

When my children were young, one of our Christmas traditions was to visit family and friends during the holiday season.  We picked a night in December, prepared a basket of treats, and headed out into the snow covered streets to celebrate the spirit of Christmas.  

We always brought along a messages to share and one of our favorite short stories was “The Christmas Orange”.  This tender story reveals the innocent hearts of little children and their desire to create the true meaning of Christmas.  

The origin of this story is unknown and although, there are several interpretations, after 50 years, the message still rings true.  This is my version of this classic story. 

                                                

The Christmas Orange.

Jake lived in an orphanage with nine other boys his entire life.  During the wintertime any extra money went for coal to heat the old buildings.  Times were tough, but throughout the holiday season the buildings always seemed a little warmer and the food more plentiful.   

With Christmas approaching, excitement filled the orphanage.  The boys were anticipating a special gift and a treasure that was greatly desired.

On Christmas morning each child received an orange.  It was the only time of the year such a rare treat was provided and it was coveted like no other thing that they possession.  Each boy would save his orange for several days and admire the special gift.  It would be savored until the moment it would be eaten.  

Some would keep their orange until New Year's Day or later, much like many of us admire our Christmas tree and decorations until after the New Year to remind us of the joy of Christmas.

This particular Christmas Day, Jake had broken an orphanage rule by pushing one of the other boys.  The orphanage mother immediately took away Jake's orange and he was sent to his room as punishment for his actions. 

Jake spent Christmas Day empty and alone.  Nighttime came and he could not sleep.  Silently he sobbed thinking that this year he would not have an orange to cherish with the other boys.  

A soft hand placed on Jake’s shoulder had startled him and an object was quickly shoved into his hands.  Then the child disappeared into the dark and leaving Jake alone to discover a strange looking orange resting in the palms of his hands.  It was an orange made from the segments of nine other oranges and ever so carefully placed back into the orange peel.  There were nine highly prized oranges that had to be eaten that Christmas night, instead of admired and cherished until a later date.

Jake held in his little hands the true meaning of Christmas, the ultimate gift - a touch of human kindness.  It wasn’t delivered in a fancy package or tied with a bow, for it came in the quiet hours of the night and expecting nothing in return.  This simple little gift was given with the genuine love and intent to mend the heart of a wounded child, with a silent whisper that others care.  Revised by Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day.

Food For Thought.

The happiest people in life don't necessarily have the best of everything, but they make the most of everything they have.

It will take a lifetime to become the person you deserve to be.

Sometimes education doesn't always lead to intelligence.

You can do something hastily in an instant that will bring on a lifetime of heartache.

Always leave with kind words, it may be the last time you see that person.

Be kind to all those you pass on the way up the latter of success for they will be the very same people you will pass on your way down. 

Heros do what has to be done regardless of the consequences. 

Sometimes you have the right to be angry, but never the right to be mean or cruel.

Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something entirely different. 

Your life can be changed in the twinkling of an eye by people who don't know you.

When you think you have nothing left to give, you have given up!

It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice. 

A soldier doesn't fight because he hates what's in front of him, he fights because he loves what's behind him. 

To error is human, to forgive is divine.

Sometimes the answer to a prayer is not that it changes life, but that it changes you. 

The only human institution that rejects progress is the cemetery.

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.

What matters is not the idea a person holds, but the depth at which he believes it.  

Seeing is not believing; believing is seeing!  You see things, not as they are, but as you are.

Do what you want to do as if you knew you couldn't fail!

If you want to be remembered borrow some money, it you want to be forgotten lend some!

The mind's job is to validate what it thinks.

You are only one thought away from happiness.

If the only prayer you ever had was in your heart, that would suffice. 

Thanks For Giving.

Somewhere, there is a single mother standing in a checkout line at the grocery store.  There are three small children by her side, a crying baby in her arms and she's struggling for much more than the small change at the bottom of her purse.  Everyday is a new challenge for her and she believes if she'd been just a little thinner, maybe her husband would have stayed...

Somewhere, there is a man at the side of the road and carrying all his belongings upon his back.  He doesn't want anything except a little human kindness.  He never meant to offend anyone by his appearance, he's just down on his luck and would like to believe that tomorrow will be a brighter day...   

Somewhere, there is another lost teenager wandering the streets.  The pain is etched upon her face.   She is the one with the colorful hair and all the piercing through her skin.  Her look is hard and cold, but it was placed there by fear and to hide the real truth!  She cries alone in her room at night where no one can see, and strives to cover up the years of abuse that nobody would believe.  She is waiting for someone to show her what love really means... 

Somewhere, there is a child that sits at the back of the classroom.   He is forced to hide a painful secret deep inside and threatened by the very hands of someone he once trusted.  While the other children taunt and tease him, he struggle to carry the burdens placed upon his innocent soul and sometimes it too heavy to bare....   

There may be times when the challenges in our lives seem overwhelming, but one doesn't have to look far to see the faces of those who endure the impossible every day of their lives.  We have witness the destruction of natural disasters and the tragedy of human loss, but it's more difficult to see the silent death taking place in the hearts of those less fortunate.  

This holiday season is a wonderful time to reflect upon our blessings and seize the opportunity to make a difference in the world.  We may never know the source of someone's burdens and I believe we are chosen to ease the pain and lighten the load of the weary.  It may only require a moment in time, a little spare change, or kind words of encouragement.  These random acts of love can make all the difference in the world to someone who is suffering.  

What would happen if everyone made a conscious effort to look for opportunities to serve mankind?  I believe that we would change in the twinkling of an eye.  We would provide hope for the helpless, rest for the weary and love for the broken hearted to begin the healing of a troubled world. by, Linda Sumner Urza, One Fine Dad

Little Laughing Matters

The day I became seriously religious.

"You better pray that comes out of the carpet!"

The day I learned about the weather.

"It looks like a tornado went through this house."

The day I found total confusion. 

"This hurts me, more than it will hurt you!"

The day I learned about the science of osmosis.

"Keep your mouth shut and eat your dinner!"

The day I understood how to tell time.

"I'll just take a minute............................................................."

The day I learn about respecting others. 

"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside, I just cleaned this house!"

The day I understood behavior modification.

"You're acting just like your father!"

The day I was taught the art of logic.

"Because I said so, that's why!"

The day I learned about time travel.

"Pay attention or I'll knock you into next week!"

The day I realized I had stamina.

"Eat all your peas."

The day I learned about extra sensory perception.

"Where's your report card?"

The day I thought twice about envy.

"There are millions of kids in the world that would love to have your life!"

The day I learned about exaggeration.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times."

The day I became a contortionist.

"Look at all that dirt on the back of your neck?"

The day I was taught about foresight.

"Make sure you have on clean underwear in case you're in an accident."

The day I mastered the art of negotiation.

"Did you hit your sister?"

The day I understood the circle of life.

"I brought you into this world, I can certainly send you out."

by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day

The Worth of A Soul.

When I was growing up, my dad taught me and my siblings to, “do unto other as you would have them do unto you” and he instilled in us the great worth of a soul!  My mother followed up with the phrase, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!”  As a child, my conscience was sealed with three distinct principles that my parents taught in our home: be your brother’s keeper, strive to leave things better than when you found them, and when you do good, you get good!

It didn’t take me long to realize how valuable those simple principles were to me and that they would govern the rest of my life.  I assumed that all people lived by these same principles, but was surprised to learn the world is not exactly as I had expected.  There were many challenging experiences that caused me to draw upon those precepts and in my quieter moments, I humbly appreciated the wisdom and counsel of my parents.  

Several years ago, I was in the park having a family picnic when I witnessed a man beating a child.  He was dragging this child across the grass by one arm, hitting him with a belt, and yelling obscenities.  Without hesitation, I ran across the park, with every intention of stopping what I had just witnessed!  

I demanded that he let go of the child’s arm and I asked him why he was hurting the little boy.  First, he delivered a string of very colorful metaphors and then replied, “He acts like an animal and I’m gonna treat him like one!  Mind your own blanking business!”  My reply to him was, “This has become my business!”

Immediately, I called the police.  They arrived within minutes and while they detained the man for questioning, I sat on the grass beside this little boy.  I could see by his broken spirit that he had been shattered by the terrible experience.  I felt impressed to do everything possible to comfort him, but there was so little time, and I wanted desperately to give him something of great value.  I began by telling him how special he was, that he was a good boy - that no one could take that away from him.  When his bottom lip started quivering with a wave of emotions, my tears surfaced, but I continued.  

I told him that I loved him and sometimes bad things happen to "really good people" and if this ever happened to him again, to tell someone that he trusts.  I told him that he didn't deserve to be hurt by anyone and that he was child of great worth to all the good people in this world!  He listened to every word that I said and when it came time for him to leave with the police officers, he understood clearly that a complete stranger cared about him.  As the police officers opened the door to the backseat of their vehicle, this little boy turned around and looked right at me, he waved goodbye with such innocence.

I don’t know what happened to the rest of this little boys life, but I know in the short time we had together, he knew there were others watching over him and that he was of great value.  Over the years, I have wondered many times about this boy and I hoped that he could used his bad experiences to remind him of how good he wanted to become.

A few years later, our family was traveling northbound on I-15, on our way to a reunion in Idaho.  It was in the middle of July and screaming hot outside.  Suddenly, and without warning, a man jumped from an overpass above us and landing on the pavement directly in front of our motor home!  We stopped so abruptly that everything inside our vehicle came crashing to the floor, including our children.

This man was seriously injured and lay unconscious on the freeway a few feet away from the wheels of our motor home.  His gaping head wounds were frightening and he had a broken bone protruding from his right arm (where he had instinctively put his hand out to break the fall) and  these were just the visible injuries.  Someone in the crowd had called for an ambulance, but it took fifteen very long and frightful minutes for them to finally arrive.  

We gently placed blankets underneath his body to protect him from the burning pavement and applied compressions to his open wounds; this slowed down the bleeding considerably.  When he started to come out of the unconscious state, he panicked and tried to get up.  With gentle restraints we persuaded him to lay still and to be calm.  I was down on both knees (holding the man’s shoulders with my hands) and attempting to keep him focused on the conversation, to reassurance him that everything was going to be alright. 

I can’t begin to express the urgency that everyone felt in saving this man’s life!  I had strong impressions that his family loved him dearly and that they had no idea of his desire to end his life!  We were consumed with his well-being and as more people stopped to assist, it was comforting to see the love and concerns that everyone had for this stranger.  

When the ambulance finally arrived, he was quickly loaded on a stretcher and rushed away.  We stood on the side of the freeway in shock from the ordeal and wondering how this man had gotten to a point in his life, where he thought this would be the only option.

Several month passed by and we were traveling in the same direction on I-15.  We had thought of this man many times, but didn’t know if he survived the trauma of his severe injuries.  We stopped by the police department of the closest town to the scene of the accident and they informed us he had lived!   His family had no idea that he was suffering from such deep depression and they were so grateful that he survived.  The officer knew the man personally and told us that he is a good man, just down on his luck.

Over the span of my lifetime I have worn out the principles that my parents taught me and with great respect and honor.  I understand what it means to be my brother’s keeper, strive to leave things better than when you found them, and when you do good, you get good!  There is one more principle that I have added for my children, “If not me then who, if not now then when?” by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day

Can You Spare Some Change?

Not the kind of change that is found in the bottom of your pockets or in the kitchen drawer, but the change that is found deep within.  This is the celebration of a child’s courage that caused one of the greatest changes in the history of our country.

Today is the 50 year anniversary of a little girl named Ruby Bridges.  Ruby was one of the first colored children to integrate into an all white public school on November 14, 1960.  Under federal court order, New Orleans public schools were forced to desegregate and Ruby was one of six colored children to integrate (she was the first colored child to ever attend William Frantz Elementary).

The tiny six year old was surrounded by federal marshals when she walked up the steps of William Frantz Elementary and entered into the school building.  Ruby’s parents had counseled with her, but she was not prepared for the outrage coming from the screaming crowd.  The following day, someone had placed a coffin containing a back doll on the front lawn of the school and she was terrified!  

The protesting parents refused to allow Ruby to have any contact with their children during school hours.  When she entered the classroom, her private teacher asked her to pick any desk in the "empty room".  Ruby spent that entire year alone!  

It’s shocking to learn the prejudice throughout the history of our country, but it’s equally inspiring to celebrate the courage of great souls who made a difference and to witness the walls of ignorance and unconsciousness tumble to the ground.  Ruby is still making contributions with her life and continues to be a exemplary role model in her community and in our country.  She works with troubled teens and donates her time to William Frantz Elementary (the school where her touching story began).


There are many things in the world in need of change and if a six year old child can make all the difference in our world, perhaps we can all spare a little change?   by. Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day

Things do not change; we change. ~Henry David Thoreau

Dying to Live! (Let's end bullying.)

Dear Diary, today is Thursday. It was not a good day!  I got on the bus again, but no one would let me sit down and as I walked through the isles, I became the human punching bag.  It’s awful how one kid starts something and the others follow behind, like they have no conscience of their own. They are mean to me and I wish they knew, just for one day, how bad it hurts!  Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. 

Mom asked me how school was going, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth!  I don’t want her to know; She’s too sensitive right now with Dad gone and everything! It would crush her if she found out what they were doing to me and Mom has too many things to worry about right now!  Nine month have passed since Dad left for Afghanistan and it's hard not having him here.  I’ll never forget the fear that I saw in Mom’s eyes when he boarded the airplane, for a split second she hesitated and let down her guard.  She pretended to be brave, but I could see that she was really frightened!   

Sometimes, I am afraid - so afraid that I can't sleep at night.  I feel like the world is closing in on me.  I want to be brave and strong like my parents, but at times it’s just too hard! Tomorrow is school and I’m trying to focus on my grades.  If there’s anyway the kids at school wouldn’t happen to notice me...that would be really great!  Goodnight diary,  Janni 

Journal Entry, Friday

It’s been months since I boarded the plane to Afghanistan.  This is a different world over here and believe me Dorothy was right, "there's no place like home!"  The people of this country are striving to make ends meet, much like the folks back in the states, but there’s a hidden darkness of oppression and despair that surrounds us.  There’s nothing more priceless than freedom, but freedom didn’t come without a price and the debt has been paid by many! 

This morning a bomb exploded not far from where we are stationed, it killed several civilians and three American soldiers.  War is not a friendly place and there are nights when I fear that I will not see the break of dawn - or my family again.  This is hell being in a strange world and millions of miles away from home.  I miss my wife and daughter Janni!  To me, they are the light reflecting off the sun and I know that everyday I’m here, I’m one day closer to going home! 

Dear Diary, today is Friday.

Someone stole my purse and dumped my things all over in the hallway.  I guess they wanted to feel really important!!!  All the pictures in my wallet were torn up and scattered on the floor, including the picture of my dad! It made me so mad and it was hard to fight back the tears.  How do people grow up to become so cruel? 

Mr. Tanner, my History teacher, helped me pick up all my things.  He was so kind and I was glad that he was there.  He apologized to me, even though it wasn’t his fault and I got the feeling that if he could have made it all go away, he would have done that for me.  

He told me not to let the bad things that other people do determine who I am and that I’m a person of great worth!  It made me feel better to know that he cared about my feelings.  Today, it was my favorite day of all and I was glad to be alive.  I hope tomorrow will be just as great. Goodnight diary,  Janni

Journal Entry, Sunday

It was a long night without any sleep.  My division was in charge of a reconnaissance mission and we were up for 36 hour straight, but one good thing, the mail sack was distributed this morning and I had three letters from home.  Maryanne and Janni, if you ever get a chance to read this journal, I love you both and it's hard to live each day without you!  Janni, I read your letters today and you have a marvelous way of making life seem so much better.  I'm grateful for your support!  I know you’re taking good care of your mother and I'm glad you have each other. If anything happens to me, I want both of you to know that my world was a better place when it was surround by the two of you!

Everyday, there are many children that leave the safety of their homes and enter into a hostile environment where they are abused by bullies.   They walk through the war zones of  our schools, but they are not alone.  Their teachers are forced to walk among the land mines that are set by those who terrorize the innocent with their ignorance.   

What will it take for our society to shed the evilness of bigotry, prejudice and hatred?  There are many children just like Janni, who dodge the bullets daily and who are fighting to survive in a place that should be a safe zone for our children. 

Janni’s dilemma is not much different from the world where her father is serving in Afghanistan, only she comes face to face with bullies every day!   Children's fears are real and it's expressed through the passion and intensity of their tears.  They get extremely depressed, frightened, and lonely.   When their world is threatened, they carry that weight upon their shoulders and in many cases never share the burdens with anyone!

I wrote this story for my granddaughter, who had an experience similar to this in school. Fortunately, it was brought to the attention of her teacher, but only because another student had the integrity to tell his parents.  The teacher questioned each students, made those involved write a letter to their parents admitting their actions and then she called their parents individually.   The teacher also reassured my daughter that she would monitor this situation throughout the year and with a sincere desire to prevent this from ever happening again.  

We commend the dignity of those noble teachers who walk upon the unsteady and shifting ground in our schools, and we honor those children who have the courage and integrity to stand up for what is right - "for this is the wisdom and courage of  greatness!"

Dear Diary, today is Monday.

Some of the bullies were picking on the new girl during lunch hour.  At first I was relieved because it took some of the pressure off me. Then I remembered how I felt when my teacher, Mr. Tanner, showed up in my life!  I moved my tray over to her table and introduced myself.  She’s so cool, I think we're going to be best friends!  It felt good to do the right thing and there’s power in numbers!  

Maybe one fine day there will be no wars, everyone will be accepted for their individual beauty and people won't have to die in fear, so that others can live in peace!
by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day


"We have the ability to change the world through our actions. The light from one small candle can illuminate the entire world when it's shared with others!"